Page 3 of A Midwinter Wager

Chapter 2

An overnight thawmeant Fitz had had no excuse to linger at his betrothed's house. He considered Cesca his betrothed, though he hadn't yet asked Mr. Heathcote for her hand—Alicia had been most unwell on Midwinter's Day, and he feared it might have looked callous to broadcast his happiness in the face of her misery.

He'd visited Fernley Place as often as he could in January, but as Alicia’s poor health had the whole household on tenterhooks, he'd still not approached Cesca's father to offer for her. It piqued but didn't worry him. After all, Heathcote would be glad to get one daughter off his hands and well-provided for, so Fitz never doubted his suit would be acceptable.

Cesca bore the delay with the sweet patience that he loved in her. She put up with him whisking her into empty rooms for a quick and frenzied kiss, touching her knee with his when they were sitting close together, and shooting her heated looks across the card table which made her blush and roll her eyes at him.

It was purgatory, not being able to court her openly. Now he'd missed his chance, for—despite the blustery winds which characterized the February weather—he was due to depart for France, amidst rumors that Napoleon was attempting to break out of captivity on Elba.

Fitz had come to say his goodbyes. And he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Fitz!" exclaimed Cesca as the footman admitted him into the dim hallway. "How delightful to see you!"

He felt that jerk of attraction which now assailed him every time he looked at her, and wished all the servants at Fernley Place, Mr. Heathcote and the sickly Alicia to blazes, so he could be alone with Cesca for just one hour.

Even just a minute or two would be welcome.

"How's your papa?" he asked, handing his beaver hat and caped greatcoat to the footman.

Before she could answer, Fitz had stripped off his gloves, seized her hand, and kissed it fervently before releasing her. How he loved to make her blush! His heart lurched—maybe today would be the day he could make her a proper proposal.

"He hasn't left his bed today, due to the pain in his foot. But I'll tell him you asked after him."

He dragged in a deep breath, battling his disappointment. "How very regrettable. And Alicia?"

Cesca's brow furrowed. "Miserable. I do wish you could talk to her and cheer her up. All my efforts have failed."

"I can try. It would have been good to see her out of her sickbed before I had to say my goodbyes."

When Cesca blanched at this reminder of his departure, it was as much as he could do not to sweep her into his embrace and damn the consequences. But a footman lurked in the shadows, acting as chaperone, so he suggested they go up and see Alicia together. The servant melted away into the background as Fitz gave Cesca his arm to escort her up the stairs.

Oh, how he loved being near this woman. He'd known her so long, that being apart from her was like missing a limb. And now they'd discovered their mutual attraction and the promise it held, it was as much as he could do not to fall upon her and ravish her on the stairs.

He tugged at the knot of his cravat. It was chilly today, despite the sunshine, but his errant body thought otherwise. "What exactly is wrong with Alicia?" he asked Cesca, to distract himself.

"No one seems to know. None of the physicians, who, to their credit, fought their way through the winter snowdrifts, have been able to work out what's wrong with her. If she weren't full seventeen years of age and old enough to know better, I might imagine she's feigning sickness to get attention. Is that uncharitable of me?"

"I’ve never yet known you to be uncharitable, my darling. I suppose we must expect Alicia to behave selfishly—she’ll have felt very much alone after her mother’s death. She’s living with a father and sister she barely knows, in a strange house, in an area where she has no friends."

"Indeed. But she'll never feel better if she hides away moping. I want to get her out and about," Cesca said as they continued along the landing. "Here we are."

Quietly entering the chamber, she went over to the shutters, unlatched and opened them. Fitz hung back, suddenly awkward. It seemed wrong, striding into the young woman's bedroom without announcing himself. And he couldn't help but recall the temper tantrum he'd overheard as he'd left Cesca's room last Midwinter's Eve. There was something disturbing about Alicia, something that went way beyond her childish selfishness, and it repelled him.

In response to the moan of complaint from the bed, Cesca said, "Alicia, the sun's out today. You need to see it—it'll help you recover."

"What reason do I have to recover? Life holds no joy for me."

Fitz rolled his eyes. Such melodrama. He wondered how Cesca could stand it.

Settling herself on the bed, his betrothed took Alicia's thin hand between her own. "Things will get better, I promise. As soon as the weather improves, we can go visiting again, and people will come to see us. There'll be horse-riding, shopping, and country fairs in the spring."

"Who'll visit us?" Alicia inquired. "I'm sick, you never want to see anybody but Fitz, and Papa's an invalid."

"Won't you try to get up today?"

Alicia's head moved back and forth on the pillow. "I'm too tired," she complained.

"That's a pity. Because Fitz is here to say his farewells. I'd hoped you'd be able to get up for him."