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“I have been kissed before,” she said huskily, “by a gentleman who wanted to marry me, and it never evoked any longing inside me for a wedding night. I daresay there is a flaw with your reasoning, and you are just a libertine.”
His eyes had widened slightly, then his teeth flashed in an irresistible grin. “No one has ever called mejusta libertine.”
And suddenly, he was right there, his hands around her waist and pulling her against his body. Before Felicity could gasp, his mouth touched hers. Everything inside of her stilled. Even the very air around them ceased stirring. Her mouth trembled against his, and she lifted a hand to lightly touch his jawline. She wasn’t sure if she intended to push him away or to clasp his cheek, but that hand also frozen.
His lips parted slightly and hers followed. He pressed in a little more, and she tasted just the hint of him, brandy…and a spark. More than a spark, really, an unanticipated burst of heat went through her belly. It was the most chaste kiss she had ever received, yet it provoked a harsh lash of a desire that she felt at the secret place between her thighs. Mortified heat flushed through her entire body, and she stepped back from him, lowering her lashes and shielding her expression.
“I shall think about your offer, my lord.” She whirled around and started to walk away.
“How will I receive your answer?”
Felicity paused. “I shall be at Lady Arlington’s ball in a few days. You shall receive it then.”
“Very well, Miss Harrington.”
She almost broke into a run but tried her best to sedately walk away.
“Miss Harrington,” he said softly.
Once more, her steps faltered, but she did not turn around. “Yes, my lord?”
“One does not forget eyes like yours or the inner fire with which they burn.”
She spun, nerves and astonishment surging to life inside her. Her throat closed and no words came forth. That encounter in the rain had been over three months ago, but he had remembered her eyes. Felicity briefly averted her gaze. Of course, he would also recall she was a servant of sorts and would leap at a fortune like the one he offered. She made no reply to his words and simply turned away and returned inside to the ballroom, aware of the feel of his eyes on her shoulders the entire journey.
Two days later,unable to sleep after an exhausting day, Felicity sat up in the center of her bed, staring at the fire burning in the grate. Tomorrow she had to give Lord Wyndham an answer, and she had no earthly idea why she was still so undecided.
“Five thousand pounds,” she whispered. A fortune that she could not easily dismiss. One that would see unfulfilled dreams realized. To gain a measure of financial independence and to provide for her mother meant the world to Felicity. But to pretend to be the man’s fiancée and allow him the liberties of kisses…and touches…. Such a situation might put her into the impossible and dangerous position of falling in love with a man who would never consider her to be his wife. She was without wealth or connections, and he did not seem to value the idea of love in a match. It was silly even to think he might even fall for her, but she was irrevocably drawn to him, and she could not hide from her reaction.
That chaste kiss had haunted her sleep when kisses from Mr. Newcombe had hardly stirred her senses. Felicity had always lived with great caution, aware that should she misstep, she might topple from the careful place she had carved for herself in this uncertain world. She had no father or brother to provide for her, nor any beauty or dowry to attract a gentleman suitor. There were days she did not mind that she might never marry or have children of her own, and there were nights she would lay in her bed and desperately hope for another future for herself—one with love and laughter.
Felicity had never done anything too bold or reckless. Except for that one mad, dangerous, reckless adventure of running away with Perdie several months ago. Felicity had entrusted herself to Perdie’s desperate plan to run away from home because she loved her friend and could not bear for her to face the danger alone, and also because Felicity found life terribly mundane. An adventure, even a dangerous one, was better than how her days idled by.
This is just an adventure too, she reminded herself, dropping herself on the pillows.
It sounded simple. It is simple. Even when she had spoken with Lady Frederica earlier, she had not been alarmed when Felicity told her what she planned to do.
“I think you should be guided by the desires in your heart. Life must be lived, so we do not look back and suffer pain from the regret we feel,” Frederica had replied.
“I am only worried that I might make a deal with the devil,” Felicity had whispered, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “You do know the devil always tempts.”
“Are you afraid of temptation?”
“Very much so, especially when it calls to something inside me, something I do not even understand.”
That conversation with Frederica had viscerally tugged at all of Felicity’s hidden yearnings, and the feeling had not abated for the entire day. Worse, today, she had found her mother hastily wiping away tears when she came upon her in the duke’s library. Finally, her mother admitted she was hurt at not being able to do anything to secure a future for her daughter. She had hugged her but had not been able to reassure her mother with the words that she was happy to stay by her side. Of course, she had not been able to. They had been empty words that echoed with too many lost hopes and dreams.
I am going to do this.
Felicity would pretend to be a lady called Jane for a couple of weeks and walk away with five thousand pounds. “But I must not allow the wretched rogue any kisses,” she said to her pillow, “nor must I lead my heart to pain by falling in love with him.”
Then incredibly, Felicity laughed as anticipation wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket, pulling her down into deep sleep, where she, of course, dreamed about the Earl of Wyndham.
CHAPTERFIVE
Phineas stared at the lady who hovered on the edge of the ballroom, a glass of champagne clutched in her hand. This was her fifth, and that informed him about her nervousness. He hoped that meant she attended tonight’s ball to give him an answer that would allow him to assuage his grandmother’s fear.
“Which sweet morsel are you staring at with that contemplative look,” Thomas Blackwell, the Marquess of Townsend, asked as he came to stand beside him.
