“And he is so interesting, too,” Winsome said. “Imagine, he has a cat named Blueberry.”
“I was surprised that he admitted to being petrified of the tiger,” Verity said thoughtfully. “It seemed brave to admit it, somehow.”
“I really do not know what to think,” Felicity said. “It is almost as if there are two different Mr. Strattons. The one I do not give a toss for… and the other one.”
“Goodness, this is a circumstance we never discussed,” Grace said. “We spent hours and hours talking about what might happen in Town, but never about a gentleman with two personalities.”
“It is not quite that,” Felicity said. “Though I cannot put my finger on it.”
“No need to, my girl,” Mrs. Right said comfortably. “Time is often the answer to a question. Just see what happens next—whatever your final opinion on Mr. Stratton is to be, it need not be settled this minute.”
As always, Mrs. Right was full of sensible advice.
“That’s very true, Felicity,” Grace said. “When do you suppose you will see him next?”
“Lady Lewellyn’s ball,” Felicity said. “It is the day after next and he did say he would attend it.”
“Or even sooner, Felicity,” Winsome said. “You did mention to him that we were to go to Lackington & Allen on the morrow. If he were determined to see you, he would make his way there.”
“I read a novel where the gentleman was determined to see a lady behind her father’s back and began haunting all the shops,” Verity said. “It seemed to be a very usual thing.”
Felicity could not be sure if Verity had invented that or not. It certainlycouldbe true. How would she view it if Mr. Stratton were seen lurking in Lackington & Allen?
Mrs. Right set down her cup and rose. “See what you think when next you see him, that’s my advice. Now, I’d best go and keep your father company in the drawing room, else he drinks that entire decanter of port by himself. Mr. Sykes-Wycliff will find my presence shocking, which is another advantage.”
“How does your plan to encourage him out of the house proceed, Mrs. Right?” Felicity asked.
“See for yourself in the morning. Mr. Sykes-Wycliff has taken to running round the square of a morning, to build himself up for the servants’ hunt that never was. I keep telling him he’s not near fast enough—and then I hurry away and laugh and laugh.”
“That is excellent news,” Grace said. “Perhaps we all ought to hint that he’s going rather slow.”
“Yes, do,” Mrs. Right said, “every bit helps. Now, Felicity, do recall that you are to dress for Lady Cyprion’s dinner on the morrow and then claim a headache at the very last minute. Right before you are all to get into the carriage.”
“I remember,” Felicity said. Of course, she would never let Mrs. Right down regarding one of her plans.
“There’s my girl,” Mrs. Right said. “We’ll play lottery tickets in the evening, while your aunt is getting the surprise of her life.”
With that interesting information, Mrs. Right departed the room to keep their papa entertained and stop him from getting too drunk.
After her sisters eventually left for their own beds, Felicity spent a good amount of time staring into the darkness and tryingto work out her changed feelings regarding Mr. Stratton. She did not come to any firm conclusions.
*
Percy reasoned withhimself that he went to Lackington & Allen simply because he must have an escape from the house. His father had trailed him from room to room, asking questions and making comments about his dining at the duke’s house the evening before.
“How was it that you accepted his invitation and had no memory of doing so?” the viscount asked. “Did he slip into Lady Albright’s house in the middle of the night and shake a promise from you?”
“No, he made the whole thing up,” Percy had answered.
“I knew it! Of course he did! Just like him to do it, too. Don’t you see what this is? It’s maneuvering. He’s trying to maneuver you into Lady Felicity’s clutches.”
“I do not believe Lady Felicity wishes to clutch anybody, sadly. You know I am set on her, though she seems to prefer Wiles.”
“What do you know about it—you’re too naïve! The old lunatic is trying to get some sanity into the blood. That’s what he’s trying to do. He knows he’s as mad as a horde of bees—he’s thinking of future generations.”
Percy did not let on that he found that theory wildly amusing. As well, he did not think his father knew who was to carry on the family line of the dukedom, as the duke had no sons—it was probably a cousin somewhere. He would not get sanity in the line through a son-in-law.
“Did he dare refer to me as Sir Pineapple?” the viscount asked. “If he did, I will see him on a green!”
