Page 2 of A Dangerous Engagement

“Tom, you will be careful, won’t you?”

“What kind of fun will it be to be careful?” Her brother grinned.

He was full of the prospect of adventure and danger and the courageous acts he would be lauded for. Felicity shook her head and went back to studying.

“Not still trying to learn Chinese, are you?” Tom snatched the book from her hands. “Father will never allow you to go to China. Besides, aren’t you afraid you’ll faint at the first sight of such a foreign place?”

Felicity took back her book and glared at him. It was embarrassing enough that she had twice fainted, but to have her brothers constantly bring it up ...

“I suppose it is all well and good for you to go get your head shot off in France, but I am not allowed to be a missionary in China.”

“Why don’t you marry a good soldier and forget about China? You don’t want to end a spinster, do you?”

Felicity held up a finger. “First of all, why would I want to marry a soldier who will only get himself killed or maimed? And secondly ...” She huffed out a breath and turned away.

Mother entered the room waving a letter.

“Lady Blackstone has invited you to Doverton Hall for a few weeks.”

“Lady Blackstone?”

“Your aunt. You remember. She was married to my brother briefly before he died. Then she married a baron. She is inviting you and your sister. Unfortunately, Elizabeth will be in Surrey for a fortnight with the Harrisons, but Aunt Agnes can accompany you.”

“Must I go?” The thought of a house party with strangers was not appealing. “I’m so tired of everyone expecting me to find a husband.” And tired of being rejected.

Mother gave a slight smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that Lady Blackstone writes that there will be several eligible young gentlemen there, including one in particular she wishes you to meet.”

Felicity heaved a sigh.

“Oh, my dear,” Mother cried, “do not look up at the ceiling in that rude way. Who has taught you that terrible habit?”

Lady Withinghall, her dear friend, often rolled her eyes, but Mother probably already knew that.

“Forgive me, Mother.” Perhaps she could try a different tactic. “But why would Lady Blackstone be having a party at her country estate at this time of year? It is the middle of the Season, and everyone will be in London.”

“I don’t know, but it will not be for the entire Season.”

“Are you certain Lady Blackstone and her parties are quite respectable?”

“Why would they not be? She is the widow of a baron, and surely at her age—she must be five and forty—she is beyond the sort of behavior that ruins reputations.”

“I suppose.”

“You must get your things packed, then, for you leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She didn’t even want to go, and now she had to leave before even getting used to the idea?

“Enough time to see me off,” Tom said cheerfully.

Mother turned her attention to Felicity’s brother, fussing about how he should take care to keep his feet dry and talking of where he might be sent and what he should take with him.

There seemed to be no help for it. She was off to Margate on the coast to engage in the kind of frivolities—card games and dancing and flirting—that were supposed to bring pleasure.

She should refuse. She should tell Mother she wanted her life to count for something, not just be an exercise in futility, standing about trying to attract the attention of someone—anyone with a shred of wealth—who would marry her.

But Mother could be quite determined, and Felicity would save her reasons for her treatise on British society’s hypocritical marriage restrictions.

Lady Blackstone’s smile lit up her entire face as she traversed the enormous entryway of Doverton Hall toward Felicity. She embraced her quite warmly.