The Second Shot (The Dueling Pistols) (16 page)

Relief swarmed through her like a hive of bees with their pesky little buzzes.
See, you needn't think they'd notice a young lady's body in the Thames. They're above such stuff. Gentry don't toss themselves into rivers.

Then the thoughts grew more pesky.
Just a matter of time before they figure out you're not the real Diana. You're an awful person for tricking them so. Even Felicity's father is not above looking his fill at what he should think of as an innocent girl's bosom. Oh, he can tell you were meant to be a whore.

Meg bit her lip until she tasted blood.

"Diana, if you are done, you should go upstairs and find a fichu. I will send my dresser to you, since your maid won't be here until later." Felicity held her son tightly by his hand.

Meg stole a glance at the table and saw that her plate was gone. These servants fluttering around taking care of everything before she even thought on it unsettled Meg.

While Felicity moved toward the door, Charles tugged at his mother's hand and stuffed the bun he had snatched from the sideboard into his mouth.

After Meg realized that Sir Edmund and Lady Greyston weren't paying her any mind, she trailed along after Felicity and her son.

She tossed her head back. She would do this. She would just have to pay better attention to Aunt Felicity's dress, demeanor, and deportment.

Meg had thought she'd done a good job of erasing the sounds of the gutter from her speech, partly by imitating her father when she was young and partly by listening to the officers and their wives when she was following the army. But speaking like a lady wasn't going to be enough.

However, as the three of them traipsed through the front hall, Felicity waved off a footman, marched to the front door, and threw it open.

Still holding Charles firmly by the hand, Felicity said, "What the devil were you thinking?"

Meg leaned sideways, trying to see around Felicity. Who was she talking to?

Charles tried to shake loose from his mother's grip. "Mama," he protested.

"Nothing more than that Charles and Phys get along famously and that Charles might enjoy a walk in the park with us. I asked your butler to inform Master Charles that he and his nanny could accompany me."

Meg could see Major Sheridan now that he had climbed the front stairs. She closed the distance and stood behind Charles. Major Sheridan only gave her a cursory glance. Instead, his pale blue eyes focused on Diana's small cousin.

"Did you ask your mother's permission?"

Charles turned his face into his mother's skirts.

Major Sheridan raked a hand through his hair.

Felicity put her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"I fear that may be my fault. I assumed Master Charles would ask you." Major Sheridan shifted from one foot to the other and back again.

"She'd just say no. She doesn't want me to have a dog," Charles said into his mother's skirts.

"Charles, we have a dozen dogs at home. I don't want one in London. That doesn't mean you can't play with Major Sheridan's dog."

The major scowled.

Meg caught sight of the animal at the center of the controversy and stepped back, "Good Lord, that's a horse."

Major Sheridan gave her more than a cursory glance this time and blinked in surprise.

Meg resisted the urge to throw back her shoulders. She tried to slip behind Felicity. Besides, he clearly had his sights set on the widow. He was even attempting to use her son. On the other hand, Meg might be able to help him out, or position herself to be scooped up as a replacement when he realized Felicity wasn't going to give in.

Meg didn't know what Major Sheridan had done to deserve her aunt's anger, but it was so thick, Meg could have cut the air with her erroneously used breakfast spoon.

Charles risked peeking out from his mother's skirts.

"I wouldn't broach a subject we haven't discussed first," the major said softly to Felicity.

She compressed her lips and gave a tiny shake of her head.

What was that all about? Meg wondered.

"You are more than welcome to come, too. You and your niece."

"I should like to go along," said Meg.

"No, you shouldn't. It is much too early for a young lady to be walking in the park, and you have your appointment with the dressmaker you must not miss."

Just then there was a shout from the street, and a pair of bucks trotted up to the door.

"There you are, Tony. Fancy meeting you here."

Meg looked the pair over. The taller one who had spoken had auburn hair and an open face full of freckles. The other—Meg didn't make it past the striking eyes, eyes the color of the Aegean Sea on a clear day. The lovely eyes dropped to her dressing faux pas and lingered there long enough that a surge of female triumph coursed through her. Then he turned to Felicity and offered her a smooth-as-glass smile and a bow—and quite ignored Meg as if she were nothing more than a bug he'd squashed under his shoe.

Tony performed the necessary introductions, although he wished his cohorts had not chosen this moment to intrude. He seemed mired in a dozen missteps with Felicity. He'd vowed to leave off the seduction attempts, but the minute she opened the door, he wanted nothing more than to step forward and claim her. But that wasn't working, so he held his distance.

Randy stepped back and signaled with his head for his major to lean toward him.

Backing away from Felicity was difficult as if he were slogging through ankle-high mud.

Randy cupped his hand and whispered, "You won't believe what we've learned about Lungren's mother."

Tony waved him off. Whatever they'd learned about his captain's mother would have to wait until Charles wasn't with them.

Now that the boy, his son, was there, Tony hardly knew what he would say or do. And there was Randy and Bedford, Felicity's niece, and a bristling Felicity to think of as well.

Bedford nicely—a bit too nicely—thanked Felicity for offering a position to the maid Molly.

Felicity gave him a bright smile and inclined her head.

Tony's jaw tightened until it ticked and he barely kept himself from grinding his teeth.

Tony stared at Bedford. The little toady was fawning over Felicity. How dare he?

Felicity knelt down and faced Charles. "Now, you must hold Major Sheridan's hand when you cross the streets, because he was injured, and you want to make sure he doesn't fall."

Charles nodded solemnly. Tony bit back his protest, only realizing at the last second that it was a ruse to get Charles to accept holding his hand while keeping the boy's pride intact. Tony's pride was apparently unworthy of consideration. Would she even have allowed Charles to accompany him if his friends weren't there?

Charles slipped his hand into Tony's.

As his fingers closed around the small palm, an unfamiliar soft warmth cut through the flash of jealousy. This was his child, his child with her. He met Felicity's soft brown eyes and whispered, "Thank you."

"Does it still hurt?" asked Charles.

"Sometimes," answered Tony.

Felicity stood and smiled prettily at Bedford and Randy. "I trust you shall have him back to me within the hour."

Tony looked at Felicity and realized she didn't trust him at all. Not with their son, not with their future, and certainly not with her affections. His explanation must not have meant anything to her. Heaven help him, he had no idea how to get through to her. Or perhaps she knew what he was now, and was right to refuse him.

Chapter Ten

Tony fought to keep his hold on Charles hand gentle and not crush the trusting fingers in his after Bedford had made a cake of himself bowing over Felicity's hand. Or more to the point, her smile for the man opened a hole inside him the size of a cannon ball.

A black thought churned in his brain. If he wanted the best for Felicity, he'd remove himself from the picture and allow her to find happiness with a man who could offer her the affection and kindness she needed. He was incapable of making her smile, making her happy. All he'd brought to her was misery.

The kinder, better parts of him had died in the bloody battles he'd fought. He'd taken too many lives, learned to be callous and unfeeling. Why would she want him now? She'd do better with a light-hearted, frippery fellow like Bedford. A man who could make her smile.

"I say, we're not taking the boy with us, are we?" Bedford had assumed the position outside of Charles, while Randleton flanked Tony on the leash side. No doubt Bedford wished to be as far away from Phys as possible.

"Back off," growled Tony.

Bedford was so startled he stopped walking and then had to trot to catch back up.

"I just meant we can't very well discuss...er..." Bedford swung his head around, scanning the potential audience. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. "...murder, around a little limb."

Tony didn't know which exasperated him more, that Bedford had just referred to his perfectly behaved son as a limb of Satan or that Bedford was doing the pretty with Felicity.

"I think he means from Mrs. Merriwether," interjected Randy.

"Oh, I say, do you mean to marry her, then?" said Bedford.

"She has another four months of mourning. Don't pester her." Had Felicity been pestered by Bedford's attentions? Or just his?

"My intentions are honorable, sir." Bedford drew up like a preening parrot. "If you intend to offer marriage, just say the word, and I'll give you a clear field."

"I did offer."

"Well, if she has spurned you than you shouldn't be so dog-in-the-mangerish."

"Grandmama says Major Sheridan is to marry my mama and that is as it ought to be."

Tony stopped and bent down to be on Charles's level. He couldn't let Charles think that everything was well and good between him and Felicity when it wasn't. So much for not broaching subjects he shouldn't talk about. "While I should like very much for that to happen, nothing is decided yet."

Charles looked puzzled a minute, and then guilty. "I 'spect I didn't hear good."

Tony tousled his son's tawny curls. "For now, this is just between your mama and me. Do you take my meaning?"

Charles nodded solemnly. "Are we to talk about murder now?"

Bedford had a dreadfully loose tongue, and Tony cast a disparaging look in Bedford's direction. "No, we shan't discuss murder."

"Well you needn't think you can't talk in front of me, because I hear everything anyhow," Charles solemnly stated.

"So, I gather," murmured Tony.

Physician took the opportunity to wander back. He wore a frown—if dogs could be said to frown—with his forehead crinkled in perplexity at these unusual delays to finding him a nice stretch of grass to water.

"Shall we make our way to the park, gentlemen?" Tony straightened. "Phys is growing impatient."

"He isn't the only one," muttered Bedford.

"Remind me, the next time I challenge you to a duel, to bring swords and cut out your tongue."

Bedford looked hurt, and Tony was instantly remorseful. Poor bounder just wasn't used to the forthright way of soldiers. And he couldn't know that when Felicity smiled at him, Tony would just as soon have killed him as not. But killing wasn't how one dealt with problems in the normal world. The urge was as much a mark of how very unsuitable he'd become for life in society. And up until Bedford made Felicity smile, Tony had enjoyed the man's company. Bad enough when he cared nothing about killing Frenchmen, but wanting to kill a friend was bad.

Randleton, ever the peacemaker, stepped into the breach. "You know, the major is excessively polite to those he dislikes."

Bedford didn't look too reassured.

"Douse it, Randy." He closed his eyes and pushed down his temper. The kind of impression he would make on his son if he let his jealousy rule him wouldn't gain him any ground with Felicity, nor could it be good for Charles. If he was to be his father, he had to bury his black heart deep.

Randleton just grinned. "See what I mean."

"You fought a duel?" squeaked Charles finally, as if he had just worked up the courage to ask.

Good God, what was Felicity going to think of him now?

* * *

"You can't mean that!" Felicity stared at her parents, her worst fears suddenly realized. She was losing control of her household, and it wasn't a husband usurping her control, but her own parents.

Lady Greyston looked at her husband, and her lips pursed. "We can't leave you alone under these circumstances."

"I've been alone for eight months, and as ill as Layton was toward the end, I might as well have been alone for the last three years or more."

"That was in the country, where we weren't more than a few miles away."

"Launching that niece of yours is going to prove harder than you've allowed," said Sir Edmund Greyston.

"In spite of that expensive Swiss school, she doesn't have the first clue how to go on," said Lady Greyston. "You will need our help."

"As long as you act like Diana's something the cat dragged in, I hardly think you will be of any help in presenting her to the ton." Felicity sat down hard on her couch. As it was, Felicity should be with Diana and the mantua maker now, to be sure that her inexperienced niece's dress choices were appropriate.

"Should have sent her to a nice Bath school, where they would have taught her good English manners," said Sir Edmund Greyston. "Those foreigners can't be trusted. Probably taught her to conjugate Latin verbs and do fearsome sums instead of embroidery and such.

"Papa, I didn't send her anywhere. Her father chose that school, and Layton chose to keep her there. By the time I had any say in the matter, the war was on and it seemed better to let her continue." Besides, the Swiss finishing school had been highly recommended.

Was it just Diana's lapses in judgment that had prompted her parents' decision to stay? Or was something else amiss?

"Shall I look into a place for you nearby? I'm sure there are several nice town homes available to let in Mayfair. Since you want to stay for the season."