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It warmed her to see the way they fussed over the dowager countess with love. She smiled when her grandson kissed her cheek and poured her what looked like whisky in a glass.
“Phineas!” the countess scolded. “I do not think Dr. Greaves would approve your grandmother drinking strong spirits.”
“Bah,” the dowager countess said, “my grandson knows me best.”
The countess came over to the pianoforte. “Would you like to play with me, Jane?”
That name jolted her, but she hastily moved from in front of the bench. “Oh, no, my lady, I assure you I am not that very skilled.”
The countess’s eyes crinkled in a smile, but she did not bear any pressure on Felicity to play. Instead, she sat before the pianoforte and started a piece. The breath left Felicity’s throat on a gasp. The countess’s playing was exquisite. Walking over to the sofa, she sat on the cushions and basked in the beauty of the music with the rest of the occupants. She could feel Phineas’s stare on her face.
She was afraid to look directly at him but was aware of his moving about the room. Surely, everyone will see how wickedly intimate they had been with only a mere glance. The memory of his mouth on her most intimate place heated her skin, and with a silent groan of despair, Felicity feared she blushed. She met his gaze across the room. His lips quirked in a decidedly sensual smile, and there was a challenging gleam in his blue orbs. Felicity hurriedly looked away into the delighted gaze of his nanna.
The old lady lifted her cup of tea to Felicity in a toast, and she almost laughed. The dowager countess was beyond incorrigible. His grandmother then enquired with meticulous civility about her day. Felicity engaged in a light conversation with the dowager countess, keenly aware of the earl’s scandalous regard upon her person. Her heart slapped hard in her chest, and butterflies fluttered in her belly. When she could endure it no longer, she excused herself, suddenly recalling she had not written her mother.
Felicity rushed from the music room and down the hallway. As she started ascending the stairs, the sound of her name halted her. Swallowing, she gripped the banister and glanced over her shoulder. Phineas languidly strolled toward her, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
He made atuttingsound. “How curious. You are running, Miss Harrington.”
A nervous laugh rose in her throat. “Yes,” she said, then sprinted up the stairs, laughing at the surprise that had flittered on his face.
She greatly enjoyed that she could surprise him. Entering her room, she sat before the small writing table and retrieved a few pieces of paper. She wrote a letter to her mother, informing her of her safe arrival in the countryside. Then she wrote one to Perdie.
Dearest Perdie,
On our travels to Scotland, I spoke to you of a gentleman I had met, one who evoked confusing longings in my heart. I did not tell you that the man’s name is Phineas Lambton, the Earl of Wyndham. I have observed him from afar while I tried to understand how a chance meeting in the rain could twist me up so inside. Whether fate is conspiring against me or just natural coincidence, our paths crossed again. He needed a pretend fiancée for reasons that are his own. I have agreed to it for a tidy fortune of five thousand pounds. I am smiling because I heard you gasp.
I cannot say money was the only reason I agreed, but I am indelibly drawn to Lord Wyndham, even more so than before. I know it is foolish, but I cannot help the feeling. It brings to my mind the similar desperate need you had felt as you fell in love with your Scottish earl. This is not a confession that I am falling in love. I do hope I am smarter than that. However, I am falling into something that feels inexplicable. I have also felt safe in the world I created for myself because I did not allow myself to dare or hope or dream. After all, without those, there can be no dashed expectations.
I do not want to feel safe when I am with the earl, Perdie. I only want to feel, even as I suspect should I allow it, in the end, my heart will be irrevocably broken. I shall return to town soon to visit the club and pay my past dues.
I look forward to seeing you when you return to London.
Your friend,
Felicity.
Miss Felicity Harringtonhad been at his estate in Hertfordshire for nine days. They were in the second week, and nary a kiss had passed between their mouths—public chaste pecks or deep and wicked private ones. With an odd sense of discomfort, he did observe something he had not anticipated in his planning. His family loved her, especially his nanna. Phineas had organized lawn games and picnics for his grandmother, for she loved the outdoors.
He did not like seeing her reduced to staying indoors and only looking through the windows with wistful longing. So he ensured that since Miss Harrington arrived, they picnicked twice on the eastern lawns, and even yesterday, they arranged a fun game of croquet with his sisters and their husbands. They played quoits and attempted to play cricket, although servants filled in their numbers and ran for the ladies. When it rained, they played cards, fox and geese and spillikins as if they were young children together. Nanna insisted that ‘Jane’ read to her and in between chapters, would shoot a few incisive questions at her, which Felicity managed to turn sweetly and return to the readings without actually revealing much.
Felicity fitted in with his family. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a natural loveliness and kindness about her that tugged people to her side. His grandmother’s antics amused her while it would have frustrated another. And his nanna loved books and found in Felicity, a fellow enthusiast. Several days he watched them, amused as they discussed themes of books they had read in the past.
Do not let her get away, his nanna had said yesterday.I like her.
Truly high praise from the old biddy.
The truth he could no longer ignore, not that he truly wanted to, was that he wanted Felicity Harrington more than he had ever wanted anything in his whole life. He wanted her in his bed with a gnawing ache that set his teeth on edge. At first, he had thought surely it was because he had been without a lover so long.
But it was the woman herself.
He paced the library with Oskar curled contentedly inside his jacket pocket. Soon his movement roused his pet, who chattered sleepily at him.
“I have a problem, Oskar,” Phineas said, “a sensual, bewitching, sweet, enticing problem, and she is under this very roof.”
A lady who had been so sensually mortified after he licked her cunny had hidden in her room the next day. It had made him feel amused and also regretful. Phin had berated himself for moving too fast, of letting passion get away from him. She was innocent. He could see it in her eyes, taste it on her lips, and hear it in her eager and untutored moans.
Oskar made a sound as if he understood, and Phineas nodded. “You are right. There is no need to beat around the bush as if I am a lad of inexperience. Simply speak to her of my thoughts.”
