The Reluctant Suitor (28 page)

Leading Ulysses behind her, Adriana approached Colton. “Lord Harcourt and I were just waiting for our friends to catch up. Once Sir Guy Dalton and Lady Berenice Carvell arrive, we’ll be joining my family for dinner. Would you care to come in and share the evening meal with us?”

“Thank you kindly for your offer, but Bentley should be returning for me shortly,” Colton explained, definitely feeling out of kilter with the young beauty. Though she smiled at him graciously, her eyes maintained their coolness. “I brought my tailor and his assistants from London, and knowing Mr. Gaines as I do, I’m sure he’s anxious to get started.” He was relieved to see his landau returning, for he was feeling at odds with the situation, and Bentley’s timeliness would allow him to make good his escape.

Though he dismissed the idea that his manly envy had been goaded by the sight of Adriana with another suitor, he realized he was definitely feeling something resembling jealousy.

“Then I shall bid you a good night,

” Adriana said and, turning about, accepted the proffered arm of her tall, broad-shouldered escort. Had he previously been puffed up by his own experience with women and their desire to please him, Colton suffered something akin to a brutal awakening as he watched the pair strolling off with their steeds in tow, for the lady never once glanced back as she smiled up at her handsome escort.

Bentley’s questioning look was the last thing Colton wanted to confront when the carriage halted beside him. “Don’t say anything,” he urged sourly. “I’m not in the mood to tolerate any of your wisdom tonight.”

Bentley glanced worriedly toward the couple. “Do you think Lady Adriana is taken with his lordship?”

“How the hell should I know! All I can say is that she’s not taken with me!”

“Maybe she’ll think better on it tomorrow,” the driver tentatively suggested.

Colton snorted likely an angry bull. “Or more likely when hell freezes over.”

Eight

F
elicity, where are you?” Jane Fairchild called from over the second-story balustrade. “Will you
please
come upstairs and help me turn your grandfather so I can tend his bedsores?”

Ensconced in the downstairs parlor with a leather-bound volume of Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice,
Felicity Fairchild wrinkled her nose in sharp repugnance as she turned another page. The
last
thing she wanted to do today, or, for that matter,
any
day, was assist in such a revolting task, especially when it entailed being a nursemaid to a dawdling old fool! Jane Fairchild may well have had that mission in mind for herself when she begged her husband to resign his position at the counting house where he had worked for more than a score of years, but such chores were hardly what her daughter had resolved to do.

Thus far, the only redemptive advantage for moving to a backward town like Bradford on Avon had been her introduction to Lord Randwulf. Her father had been greatly buoyed by the news of their meeting and had eagerly repeated his prediction that she’d marry an aristocrat one day and have wealth in abundant measure. Her mother had long deemed such talk beyond reasonable expectation, considering their own less than noble status, but it was exactly the reason Jarvis Fairchild had acquiesced to his wife’s plea to make the move to the Wiltshire town, for it was in this very area he expected his daughter to capture the interest of a certain aristocrat. While on an errand for his previous employer in London some months back, he had overheard two men of consequence expressing some hope that an unattached nobleman would soon be acquiring a marquessate near the miller’s town and, along with it, enough wealth to dispense with the notes of indebtedness each of them held. In view of the fact that his daughter turned the heads of nearly every gentleman she passed, Jarvis had foreseen great opportunity to be found in the area.

Slamming the open book down on a nearby table, Felicity muttered peevishly about her mother’s penchant to interrupt her reading. With such an irksome chore looming ahead of her, she could no longer concentrate. Vexed and restless now, she catapulted herself from the chair and stalked to the parlor door from whence she stuck her tongue out toward the upper level.

Of course, by then, Felicity deemed herself safe, since her mother had returned to the elderly miller’s bedchamber. Jane smiled at her parent and fondly patted his arm.

“Don’t bother yurself ’bout me, Jane,” Samuel Gladstone gently rumbled from his bed. “Yu’ve done enough as ‘tis. See ta yur family.”

“You
are
family, Papa, and it gives me the greatest pleasure to care for you with the same loving tenderness you once bestowed upon Mama when she was gravely ill. Never have I seen a man more dedicated to his wife than you were to Mama.”

Samuel forced a grin in spite of the gathering thickness in his throat. “Ah, there was a woman who could touch a man’s heart. At times, dearest Jane, I see a glimpse of her in you.”

His daughter heaved a forlorn sigh. “I don’t seem to have quite the same knack for touching hearts as she did, Papa.”

“Oh, yu’ve got it all right,” he reassured her. “The problem yu’re facin’ lies wit’ the sluggishness o’ the hearts yu’re tryin’ ta awake. Mayhap in time they’ll respond ta yur winsome ways. Meantime, girl, take

courage. Yur deeds are honorable an’ true. They’ll stand as a testament ta yur character long aftah yu leave this world, jes’ like yur mother’s deeds have done throughout these many years since her passing.”

Having received no further directive from upstairs, Felicity tossed her head with a flippant air as she strode to the front windows overlooking the cobblestone lane that made a meandering descent through the town after curving past the uppermost hill whereon sat the three-story Cotswold manse. In the distance, she could see the ruins of a medieval church with its lofty steeple and, farther on, the bridge that traversed the River Avon and upon which sat a medieval chapel, ofttimes used as a prison or a blind house. Longingly her gaze flitted along the cobbled streets of the area where the shops were located in search of a gallant gentleman who, if she were indeed fortunate, would present himself at her grandfather’

s stoop and salvage what was left of her day.

Hurrying footsteps, approaching from down the hall, promptly set to flight such wishful yearnings, giving Felicity immediate cause to reflect upon the folly of her defiance. She tried to brace herself for the ordeal of facing her mother, who had a way of recompensing disobedience and feeble excuses in a most effective fashion. In the short time they had been living at Stanover House, Felicity had come to realize her mother had gotten many of her ideas on integrity, hard work, and loyalty from her sire and had long ago dedicated herself to instructing her daughter in the manner in which she had been brought up. In most cases, however, Jane’s attempts were repeatedly put to naught by Jarvis Fairchild, who considered himself far more astute and knowledgeable about everything in general. Many times he undermined his wife’s valiant efforts by openly deploring them, even in their daughter’s presence. Now that he was working nearby, he was inclined to return fairly often to the house, sometimes to search through Gladstone’s ledgers or to question the elder at length about older workers, who, unbeknownst to his father-in-law, he had begun to lay off. Felicity suffered no uncertainty that she’d be saved forthwith from any chore her mother required of her if her father were to enter in the next moment or two, but as much as she yearned for that event, such timeliness seemed farfetched, even to a dreamer.

The scurrying footfalls advanced down the hall, prompting Felicity to creep hastily toward the door with the hope that she could fool her mother into thinking she had actually been about to respond to her summons. The rushing patter of feet drew near the parlor door and then, much to Felicity’s amazement, continued on toward the kitchen. Almost laughing aloud in relief, she realized her fears had been for naught. It had only been Lucy, her grandfather’s housemaid, hastening to fulfill some new directive Jane had given her.

Smiling smugly, Felicity returned to the window through which she had been contemplating the world. If she delayed long enough, perhaps her mother would even give up on her coming upstairs. After all, caring for the miller was his daughter’s responsibility, no one else’s.

Leaning near a windowpane, Felicity searched eagerly for a familiar face. Having had her head filled with fantasies of grandeur by her father for most of her life and, more recently, a wee taste of the social life aristocrats often enjoyed, she entertained lofty aspirations of rich gowns, grand balls, and regal courtships. She yearned to be out amongst the bustling shoppers, but she could think of no viable excuse that would be effective in inducing her mother to let her go out, especially now after her assistance had been requested.

Reflecting upon the aristocrats she had recently met, Felicity braced her chin on a slender knuckle and considered the odds of claiming any one of them for her own. Major Lord Stuart Burke was indeed handsome and entertaining, and if she could attract no other, he’d certainly suffice. Still, if given a choice, she’d prefer the very handsome Lord Randwulf. He was not a mere man in her opinion; he was the very essence of the perfect being, and even if debtors were nigh on his heels, she could only guess that the wealth associated with his marquessate would soon absolve him of all those minor inconveniences.

Her eyes wandered dreamily down the lane, and then she straightened with an excited gasp, recognizing the very one she had been daydreaming about . . . Lord Randwulf! At the moment, he was making his way along the thoroughfare with the aid of his elegant walking stick.

Felicity’s heart quickened with excitement, and she dashed into the hall, calling toward the kitchen, “

Lucy, I need your assistance upstairs in my room immediately! Immediately, I say!”

The servant sputtered incoherently as she stumbled to the doorway. Felicity didn’t bother glancing back as she raced toward the stairs. Although she chanced attracting her mother’s attention by going to her room, she had little choice. She just
couldn’t
let Lord Randwulf see her attired in anything less than her finest.

She was nigh breathless by the time she reached the third level, but she dared not pause. Upon entering her spacious bedchamber, she flung open the doors of the stately armoire residing near the window and began sorting through her gowns in a frantic quest to find her newest day dress. In spite of her mother’s vigorous protestations that they could not afford such extravagance, a seamstress and a milliner had been engaged shortly after Jarvis Fairchild had assumed his new position at the mill. A fashionable mauve creation, with bands of creamy silk lutestring edged with mauve cording ornamenting the skirt, small capped sleeves, and full-length sleeves, was the costliest gown she had ever owned and, without a doubt, the most fetching. A matching bonnet made the ensemble even more attractive.

Drawing forth the garment, Felicity lovingly scanned its length. As irresistible as it was, she had worn it more in a short span of time than she had first deemed wise, but the compliments that had been evoked had made it difficult to resist. She suffered no uncertainty that she’d be able to claim the nobleman’s attention garbed in such an exquisite gown.

A tiny stain on the bodice caught her eye, wrenching a gasp of dismay from her. Though Felicity had known such mishaps were bound to happen, especially with repeated wearing, she was nevertheless incensed that the spot had not been taken care of by a servant before now. In growing vexation, she whirled as the door swung open.

Clearly winded from her frantic haste to reach the uppermost level, the housemaid bolted into the room and clasped a trembling hand to her bosom as she paused to catch her breath. Her gaze met the seething glower of her young mistress, and in sudden consternation she tottered backward several steps, querying fearfully, “Is anythin’ wrong, miss?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what’s wrong, Lucy!” Advancing until they stood nearly toe-to-toe, Felicity shook the garment in front of the servant’s face. “I’ve told you repeatedly that you are to make certain my clothes are clean and fit for me to wear
before
you put them away in my armoire. You must know that this is my very best gown, and yet you put it away soiled. What is your excuse for your oversight?”

Lucy chewed her bottom lip worriedly. She had been working for the elderly miller for only a few years, yet he had seemed pleased with her efforts. Her confidence, however, had begun eroding shortly after Felicity and her father had started harping at her, making her feel as useless as a toad. “I’m dreadfully sorry, miss. I didn’t notice the stain, what wit’ it bein’ such a tiny little thing, an’ all.”

“If
I
can see it, then
others
can see it as well!” In a raging temper, Felicity whipped the garment viciously across the servant’s face, sending that one stumbling backward with sharply stinging eyes. “Do what you can to clean the spot and make the gown presentable for me to wear. Immediately, do you hear?”

“Yes, miss.” Hurriedly gathering the garment within her arms, Lucy blinked repeatedly to clear her now blurred vision as she tried to ignore the painful burning of her cheeks and eyes. Trembling, she set her cap aright and asked in some confusion, “Are yu going out, miss? Mayhap yu didn’t hear yur ma. She were