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“Glen—” Daffy started to object but was pinched by her husband.
“Hush,” Freddy whispered to her. He eyed his brother-in-law and said reasonably, “Can’t go about insulting bloodline like Hartford’s, you know. Will cause your sister … discomfort.”
“Oh, as to that … well, what is done is done,” the duke answered. He ran a hand through his locks and got to his feet. “I’ll ring for coffee.”
“Felicia,” Daffy said, ignoring this. “Come sit with me on the sofa, and then we will return to Waverly. My brother’s guardianship is at an end, but you know Freddy and I wish you to remain for the season … or even longer. I love having you at Waverly.”
“You are wonderful, and I thank you so much. I would love that.” She peeped at the duke, “Tomorrow, I will be one and twenty, and do you know what that means?”
“What?” three people said at once.
“Freddy has promised to tell me … as his birthday gift to me, why he doesn’t like Reinhart,” Felicia said on a laugh.
“I didn’t say that, puss, and you know it,” Freddy returned affectionately.
“You said you would think about telling me when I am old enough to understand. So, tomorrow I will be old enough.” Felicia smiled brightly.
Scott appeared in the doorway and said, “Flip—there you are. Have you forgotten?”
“Forgotten what?”
“The balloon, girl, the balloon. We can stop by Becky’s and collect her and still make it on time if we leave now,” Scott explained.
“Oh faith,” Felicia said and ran towards him. She turned to the duke. “Do you come?”
“I think not,” the duke said.
She stomped her foot. “You must … you said yesterday that you might.”
“I find that I cannot,” he said quietly.
She put up her chin, made her farewell, picked up her cloak, and left with Scott.
Freddy turned to the duke and said, “I have never known you to be a fool.”
“I am not being one now. You must trust me in this.”
~ Thirty-Two ~
WAVERLY HOUSE WAS built, furnished, and designed with modern fashion in mind. Every room was decorated with style, elegance, and good taste. Felicia, however, meandered from room to room as she found on this, her twenty-first birthday, that she could not achieve comfort anywhere. She was restless. She was anxious. She was worried, and she was desperately in love with a man who put the proprieties first.
She had wanted him, for these past six weeks, to fling those proprieties to the wind and declare himself, but he had not. Even yesterday after they had signed all the documents that would make her a free woman on this, her birthday, he did not take her into his arms. She was heartsick and determined to be so.
She had to believe that he loved her. She had seen it in his eyes and, even in those early days, had heard it in his voice. But here it was, her birthday … and where was he?
She peeped in at the study and found Freddy.
She liked this room. It was a man’s room, warm and cozy with comfortable furniture. Yes, she would stay in here with Freddy.
She plopped on a deeply worn leather winged chair facing him and said as he eyed her doubtfully, “Go on with whatever it is you are doing. I shan’t bother you.”
He eyed her in some fascination, and she knew that was because this was Freddy’s private domain where even his beloved wife did not intrude. He had set down his quill, but as Felicia appeared to settle down with a book, he picked it up again.
Only a brief moment or two went by before she advised him conspiratorially, “I am hiding, you know.”
He eyed her and asked, though seeming to regret it as soon as the words were out, “Why? From whom?”
“From Daffy,” she answered happily.
