Dangerous Joy (42 page)

The next day, all obvious guard on Felicity was dropped, though Miles never let her out of his sight. In the morning, she walked out with a maid and footman to visit some local shops. She purchased soap, two pairs of silk stockings, and a jet clip she thought would suit her drake's-feather aigrette.

No one tried to contact her at all.

When she returned to the house, she shed her attendants and strolled around the ducal gardens, even wandering out into the mews.

Again, nothing.

The old fears returned. What if Rupert had lost patience and returned to Ireland to seize Kieran? She knew Miles had sent a warning to his mother, but was it possible for even Lady Aideen and the Earl of Kilgoran to hold the boy against the law?

In the afternoon, she circled Marlborough Square alone for an hour, hoping against hope for news.

By the time evening came, and with it a Planned trip to the theater to show off Serena an elevated company, Felicity was desperate. She was almost ready to run through the streets of London waving a sign saying `Rupert Dunsmore, come to me!"

Miles took one look at her in her second-best silk and ragged nerves and dragged her into the nearest private room. "What is it?"

"Nothing! That's what it is. A frightful amount of nothing! I can't bear it."

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "Dunsmore is bound to be a bit slower in getting here."

"What if he's gone to Ireland? Devil take it, Miles, it's what I'd do in his case. Seize Kieran, secrete him away somewhere, then wait in hiding for me to come of age."

"He's not as intelligent as you, and I don't think he has a patient nature. I'm sure those men after him don't. And, believe me, he isn't enough of a man to get your son out of Kilgoran Castle."

She hung onto him. "I'm trying to believe. I am." Then she looked over his shoulder. "Faith, do you know what room we're in?"

He relaxed his hold to look, then groaned when he saw the billiard table. "My failing willpower doesn't need this."

"Perhaps it's the scent of baize and chalk..." She slid a hand up to his cheek. "We're going to win. You believe that, don't you? In a few weeks, we can be married. So, why not..."

He swung her around so she faced away from him, but was still held against him with strong arms. "Stop tempting me." But his voice faded and his lips brushed the back of her neck. She shivered and an ache began.

"Miles, I need you so."

His arms tightened, and he rocked her slightly. "Not near as much as I need you."

Swaying with him in an entrancing rhythm, she clutched his arms. "Would you like to take odds on that?"

He pushed against her back, and she felt him, long and hard.

She laughed shakily. "You'll have to explore a bit to find my evidence, but it's there, I tell you true."

His shudder ran straight through into her. "No," he said. "We are going to wait." And she could tell from the control he'd imposed on his voice that he meant it.

She turned, almost ripping through his embrace, though he did not let her go. "You know I'm no good at waiting!"

"And you know you could tempt me into hell's fires." He rested his head against hers, quieting her. "But no, Felicity. No. We have a lifetime. I believe that. If we weaken now on this, I'll shatter. I'll be quite useless to you in what needs to be done."

She heard the truth in him and made it into strength for herself. If need be, she'd protect him from her own impatient passion. She stepped out of his arms and smoothed her dress. "Very well, then. I'm cool again."

"Oh, fortunate creature..."

She choked back laughter and achieved a level tone. "I'll believe you about Kilgoran, and Kieran's safety is the only thing that really matters." Then she gasped, "I didn't mean that!"

"Yes, you did, and it's all right." His smile was a masterpiece. He even found the strength to take her hand. "Your son must come first, for he is weak and defenseless and has no one else. I feel much the same way. Oh, not because I feel as you do for Kieran-yet-but because my love of you is as deep as yours of him."

She squeezed his hand, slowly filling with a sense of delight and wonder. "If only we can all be together, we are going to be the happiest people on earth."

His smile widened into a grin. "Barring a few fights now and then, my warrior-queen. But you'll make a fine, fierce mother to my children." He took her other hand. "You've danced me a merry dance over this, but don't ever think I like you less for it. If you could relax your care of your son for love of me, how could I ever trust you to truly care for our children?"

She raised his hands and kissed them. "And your care of me-damnable though it's been at times-shows me you'll be a wonderful father. And I know you're a wonderful lover—"

"Shush!" He turned their hands and kissed hers back, a warm, sensual devotion that nearly broke her.

Perhaps he knew, for he led her from the tempting room. They only let their loving hands slip apart when they entered the hall where guests were already arriving. With the best will in the world, they could not stop their eyes from meeting, kissing, promising, loving throughout the long meal.

After dinner, the party left for Drury Lane where most of them were accommodated in the Duke of Belcraven's box. Felicity and Miles, however, sat with some others in the boisterous pit, where it was much more likely that Dunsmore could make contact.

It also meant that Miles and Felicity were squeezed tightly side by side on a bench, which continually strained their over-stretched willpower.

What with that and waiting for contact with Dunsmore, the play could have been a tedious sermon as far as Felicity was concerned, though the people around her clearly enjoyed it.

During the intermissions, she and Miles strolled about. At one point, Miles deliberately left her unattended. Even though she knew he was watching, Felicity hated the leering looks of nearby men. Some even passed close to whisper salacious invitations. Her life at Foy had not prepared her for this, and she grew very angry that they would think some poor, unescorted female fair sport.

One man even stole a kiss. Felicity was on the point of doing him a serious injury when Miles dragged him off and pointed out the error of his ways.

"Faith, but London is a wretched place," Felicity said, trying to scrub an oniony taste from her mouth. "And if you were a proper knight in shining armor, you'd have drawn his cork."

"It would only have started a brawl," Miles said, touching her gently in comfort. "These theater crowds are always just a spark away from riot. And anyway, we may be watched. If not for that, I'd kiss away all trace of that scullion's attentions."

It was almost like a fierce kiss in the effect it had on her. "You could have called him out. Being my guardian gives you that right."

"Simmer down, you wild woman. He was a bit beneath my touch."

"But not beneath mine?"

"Then you call him out."

She scowled after her assailant. "I'm very tempted."

Miles laughed. "Swords, pistols, or fists, I'd bet on you."

As he settled her back on their bench, he murmured, "Nothing, I suppose."

"No. I'm telling myself he hasn't made his way to London yet, though what the devil could be delaying him, I don't know. Oh, Miles, I want this over!"

"No more than I do, mo chroi."

The farce was a huge success, judging from the roars of laughter around her, but Felicity was hard put to even smile. By the time they were leaving the theater, caught in the usual crush of people near the door, she felt close to tears.

Why couldn't they be like normal lovers, able to show their feelings and enjoy their happiness? Now it was within sight, within touch, within smell like a steaming pie in a baker's shop, it was agony to do without.

Miles had his arm around her to protect her from the jostling of the crowd, and she snatched what pleasure she could from it despite the sweaty crush. She envied the people in the boxes who had their own exit.

She was hopping because a heavy boot had trampled her toes when a group of brandy-soaked young men decided to charge through the packed doorway. In the shouting, screaming melee that followed, Felicity and Miles were torn apart and she ended up squeezed against a wall, her bonnet half torn off.

Seeing very real danger, Felicity let the crowd grind past her. In moments, however, the pressure grew and screams warned of people being hurt. She began to sidle back toward the relative safety of the auditorium.

Then an arm snuck around her waist and helped her. Miles. Thank God! But when she was free, she found she was in the grasp of Rupert Dunsmore.

"At last," he snarled, pulling her further away from the blocked doorway.

She had little choice but to follow, and she'd wanted this meeting anyway. She'd expected, however, to have Miles close by. A quick glance showed he was nowhere in sight.

Rupert found a quiet corner and confronted her. "I can hardly say you've been your usual resourceful self, Felicity. I've you to thank for this."

He gestured to his face, and she saw with a gasp that he had a badly blackened eye, a swollen lip, and possibly a broken nose.

"What happened?"

"I thought those Irish peasants were bad enough, but moneylenders..." Suddenly, he smiled, a smile twisted by his injured lip. "All those problems are over now, though, aren't they? This way."

He pushed her toward the stage.

Felicity looked around frantically for help. "Where are we going?"

"Behind the stage. I've bribed one of the servants here. I didn't expect it to be quite so easy to separate you from your guardian, but fate must be on our side. Fate and a few coins to those rowdy young men."

At the plain door by the side of the stage, he flashed her a black look. "I hope you're not going to turn foolish again. Do I have to remind you what will happen to my brat if you do? He'll get a beating at least as bad as this, if not worse. The doctor said I came near to losing an eye. It'd be sad to see the child blind, wouldn't it?"

Ice ran through Felicity. In truth, she could have killed him then if she'd had a weapon.

Rupert rapped on the door, and a man cautiously opened it. "Be quick then," he whispered. "We don't want any more of that lot to think there's another way out."

Felicity glanced back to see that the main exit was completely jammed. Some of the audience milled in the auditorium looking for another way out of the building.

Miles was gone, and a glance at the Belcraven box showed it was empty.

So much for the Rogues. As always, she was on her own.

The door led into a warren of corridors smelling of musty costumes and greasepaint. Actors squeezed out of the way of theater servants rushing to prevent the doorway fracas from growing worse. Rupert shoved his way through, towing Felicity.

"Where are we going?" she gasped.

"Outside. Where do you think? Since you failed to keep me informed of your movements, I've had to cobble together a plan as best I could."

"How could I keep you informed?" Felicity bumped into a plaster pillar, doing her best to impede progress without being obvious about it. "At Vauxhall, they wouldn't even let me piss unescorted after that time I gave them the slip. Here in London, I've been waiting for you to contact me."

He stopped to study at her. "I wonder if you're telling the truth. I doubt it, but it doesn't matter. There's no escape, and you know it."

Gathering all her mendacious ability, Felicity looked him in the eye. "Yes, I know it. Wasn't it I who set up that elopement? And it would have worked, damn you, if you'd not stopped to argue about a cat."

"It would have worked if you'd agreed to bring it."

"Or if you'd agreed to let it go."

"Or if you'd run to the boat not the horses when Cavanagh appeared!" His grip on her wrist turned so vicious she gasped with pain. "I killed that damned cat, and I'll kill my snivelling son if I please. The only thing that will stop me is you as my sweet and dutiful wife. Remember that!"

Bile rose to sicken her, but Felicity kept her eyes steady on his. "Then let's get it done before Miles Cavanagh comes charging along to guard me again."

Two men dashing by with a ladder crushed them back against the wall. Rupert's lips twisted in an unpleasant smile. "I hear real feeling in that. If he weren't my enemy, I could almost admire Cavanagh. He soon learned you need a firm hand."

"Except that now we've thwarted him."

He laughed. "Struth, you really do want to spite him in this, don't you? Come on, then."

He dragged her along, but she'd achieved her goal. His grip was less tight, and his suspicions lessened.

What to do now, though?

Whatever it was, she must not let Rupert guess she planned resistance unless she could take him prisoner. She knew without doubt that if he realized he'd lost his power to compel her into marriage, he'd seize Kieran at all costs.

A blast of cold air warned her they were nearing a door to the outside. God, what was she to do?

When an actress rudely elbowed her way past, Felicity took her chance and fell to the ground with a cry of pain.