Wendy Soliman
Authors: Duty's Destiny
Duty’s Destiny
Wendy Soliman
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Aurora Regency
An imprint of
Musa Publishing
Duty’s Destiny, Copyright © Wendy Soliman, 2011
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
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Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood Ave
Lancaster, OH 43130
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Published by Musa Publishing, November, 2011
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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-61937-046-3
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Editor: Celina Summers
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
“F
ELIX
, Y
OU’RE
A V
ERITABLE
B
RUTE!
”
Flat on his back, hands propped behind his head, Felix watched his wild, unpredictable mistress pace about the room with the lithe grace of a disgruntled gazelle, as totally at ease with her nakedness as only the truly self-assured ever can be.
“Which particular aspect of my brutish behaviour meets with your displeasure on this occasion, Angelica?”
Her responding pout would once have set his pulse racing and mind veering in the direction of further intimacies. Today it left him completely unmoved.
“Nothing. Everything.” She swirled to face him. “Oh, I don’t know…something. You’re holding back from me, I can tell. It’s as though your mind is somewhere else, which is most insulting.”
She ran a hand across one of her breasts, examining it for imperfections that didn’t exist, looking for the tell-tale signs of his energetic attentions that he’d been careful not to leave. This time her actions did reignite his interest. There was something about a woman touching her own body that he found incredibly erotic. She glanced at him with a knowing smile, just as he moistened his lips and contemplated his next move. She made his mind up for him when she grasped her other breast as well, moulding them together with her hands, her eyes not once leaving his face.
Felix laughed at tactics so artlessly designed to focus his attention on her, and caught her round the waist, tumbling her down on top of him. There was only one way to deal with Angelica when she was in this sort of mood, and it didn’t require conversation.
“My husband returns tomorrow,” she said, breathlessly, as she rode him, her blonde hair falling in tangled disarray almost down to her waist. “I can’t bear the thought of it.”
Felix twisted his body from beneath hers and tossed her onto her back. “Now isn’t the time to discuss your bloody husband.”
“Ah, darling, you’re jealous, but there’s no need to be.”
“You didn’t need to sacrifice your pleasure,” she said afterward. “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”
Felix wasn’t sure of any such thing. He might have borrowed the Marquis of Towbridge’s wife, but he didn’t intend to fill his nursery for him as well. That would be taking the spirit of camaraderie too far.
“I won’t be able to see you for an age,” she said, “not with Simon standing guard, watching my every movement. It’s so unfair.”
“If you’re unequal to the reconciliation, then you’d best plead an indisposition,” Felix drawled, his mind already elsewhere.
“Huh, you don’t care at all! The prospect of our separation doesn’t appear to distress you one jot.”
“On the contrary, I’m desolate.”
She stretched out a hand to prevent him from leaving the bed. “Stay a little longer and just talk to me.”
Felix arched a brow. “You want to talk?”
“Why not? We won’t have another opportunity for intimate conversation for an age.”
“Not possible, Angelica, I’m afraid. I have to see my father this afternoon.”
As he levered himself from the bed and reached for his clothes, he was aware of her gaze lingering on his naked torso. He chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“I wouldn’t look at me like that at the duchess’s ball tomorrow night, if I were you, m’dear, or you’ll set the tabbies’ tongues a-wagging for sure.”
“Huh! What do I care about that? I enjoy being the subject of salacious gossip.” Angelica tossed her dishevelled blonde mane, as though being talked about, envied, and admired was an everyday occurrence. For her, it probably was. “Felix, you’re too cruel, leaving me so soon.”
She leapt from the bed and plastered her naked body against his now fully-clothed one. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she sunk her fingers into his thick curls, twining them playfully around her fingers.
“Angelica, be careful not to let your heart rule your head. You’ll be fully occupied with Towbridge’s concerns now.”
“Oh, don’t remind me! Whatever possessed me to marry such a man?”
Felix grinned. “What indeed? You had the entire
ton
worshipping at your feet, and yet you chose Towbridge.”
“Not the entire
ton,”
she reminded him with another petulant pout. They both knew she was alluding to the fact that Felix and his best friend, the Earl of Newbury, were two of the few eligible gentlemen who’d made no attempt to ensnare Angelica.
“Leaving aside the material gains to be derived from Towbridge’s vast wealth, you married him because you wanted to be the Marchioness Towbridge, and to benefit from the social privileges which accompany that elevated rank.”
In another of her abrupt changes of mood, she smiled spherically at him, her heart reflected far too clearly in her eyes for Felix’s comfort. “Maybe so, but those privileges are already starting to pale. Simon is more than thirty years older than me — ”
“You knew that when you married him.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know that he has no conversation and no interests other than hunting and serving the Prince Regent. He’s a selfish lover who pants and sweats over me like a filthy pig and never thinks of my pleasure. But, worse, he revels in parading me in front of his dreary friends, like some new addition to his wretched art collection, to be admired and drooled over, but never touched.” She prowled, catlike, around the room, still totally naked and clearly spoiling for a fight, picking objects up at random and weighing them in her hands, as though considering them for use as weapons.
“Well, m’dear,” Felix said, bored with a conversation that had been played out between them on countless previous occasions, “you — ”
“Before I met you I had no idea what I was missing, and could endure Simon’s attentions, but now — ”
Her voice trailed off, and she fell into a chair and a sulk simultaneously. Felix watched her impassively, tired of her juvenile games. Angelica had been spoiled and indulged for her entire life, never more so than since meeting her doting husband. Felix had known as soon as he set eyes on her that he didn’t wish to marry such a creature, and had simply watched from the sidelines, biding his time.
He may not have wanted to marry her, but there was no denying her quite exceptional beauty, and there was another vacancy in his life that she was well-qualified to fill. He’d sensed that she’d be ripe for the plucking, after six months of Towbridge’s clumsy mauling, and he approached her. It was disappointingly easy, her initial reticence having more to do with lack of opportunity than with any unwillingness on her part. It hadn’t been long before Towbridge, as equerry to the Prince, had been obliged to travel to Ireland on behalf of his royal master. Felix grasped the opportunity, and it was only then, after Angelica’s sensuality had been properly awakened beneath his tutelage, that the full extent of her folly in marrying a man such as Towbridge had become apparent to her.
Felix left her to her sulking, something the carefully selected band of sycophants she surrounded herself with would never presume to do. As soon as it became apparent that he had no intention of coaxing her into a more congenial frame of mind, her mood abruptly changed, and she offered him a glittering smile.
“Anyway, I can manage Simon; I don’t see why his return should mean us suspending our assignations.” When Felix expressed no enthusiasm for her suggestion, a calculating expression spread across her lovely face. “But what if rumours of our association should reach his ears?” she asked sweetly.
“If they do,” Felix said evenly, “he will doubtless call me out. Is that what it would take to make you happy?”
“Oh, darling, don’t say such things. I can’t bear the thought of it. I will never reveal your name. Never! I swear I’d die first.”
Felix hid his anger at her thinly veiled threat behind an attitude of casual indifference. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“You don’t love me at all.”
“You have my unreserved admiration.”
“Bah! Admiration!” She flapped a hand dismissively. “I have thousands of admirers but only one lover. But it seems he doesn’t really love me at all.”
This was definitely territory best left uncharted. “Come, m’dear,” he said, “needs must. Allow me to call your maid.”
Felix opened the door, aware that Angelica’s hatchet-faced maid would be waiting outside, staring at the wall directly in front of her, pretending not to know what had been occurring behind that door. Since Angelica couldn’t manage to as pull so much as a chemise over her head unaided, and remained naked until the devoted Celia came to her aid, her maid couldn’t possibly misunderstand the nature of their relationship. Apparently she’d been with Angelica since she was a young child and was totally loyal.
Felix fervently hoped that situation wouldn’t change. He adjusted the folds of his cravat, observing the still sulking Angelica in the mirror as Celia coaxed her into her clothing, twisted her hair into a knot, and hid the untidy results beneath her fashionable leghorn bonnet.
When she declared herself ready to leave, Felix gave her a fleeting kiss and, having first checked that the coast was clear, ushered her from the rooms he kept for the purpose of their assignations. He then sauntered the length of Park Street and let himself into his father’s residence. But his anger lingered; he didn’t care to be threatened. Their liaison had run its course. Angelica was turning into a liability and would have to go.
Felix detected the sound of feminine voices coming from the drawing room, and suppressed a groan. His mother and sisters were entertaining again. Nothing unusual about that, but Felix had no desire to be drawn into their machinations. He headed for the relative safety of the library, where he discovered his father already taking shelter.
“Ho, Father. You’re seeking refuge from the fray as well, I see.”
“Your mother’s entertaining Lord Denby and his sister, amongst others. I dare say she is procrastinating, hoping for your return.”
Felix’s responded with an eloquent shrug and headed for the decanter on the sideboard. He held it up to his father and, upon receiving a nod, poured two glasses of Madeira and handed one to the earl.
“Thank you, Felix.”
The two men sat in companionable silence, Felix’s thoughts dwelling upon the lessening of his interest in the lovely Angelica. He had initially entered into the liaison through a combination of boredom and an inability to resist the challenge she represented to every red-blooded male within the
ton
— a challenge that everyone agreed she would never risk acceding to. That she had capitulated readily had both surprised and delighted Felix, and for a while she’d held him in her thrall. But now? Well, now he was bored again; not just with his mistress, but with everything to do with life in the
ton.
“I suppose we should join them,” the earl said, with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
“If you insist.”
“Your mother will require you to charm Denby’s sister, thereby leaving Denby free to pursue your own sibling.”
Felix expelled a long breath. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.”
“We both know, of course, that she intends Maria Denby for you.”
“My mother’s subtlety is a constant source of comfort to me. However, Denby is well able to offer for my sister without any assistance from me. And as for Maria Denby…” Felix’s words trailed off as he glumly applied himself to the Madeira.
“I assume from your indifferent attitude that she’s not destined to become your viscountess?”
Felix inclined his head. “Your assumption is correct.”
“Your mother will be mortified.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I know she’s less than subtle, Felix, but she does have a point. Mothers are supposed to see their children through to good marriages. You’re her only son, and are now eight-and-twenty. She’s right to be concerned about your dilatory attitude toward matrimony.”
“Not you too, Father?”
“Fear not, Felix, I’ll say no more on the matter. Just bear in mind that two of your four younger sisters are already well married, Denby appears intent upon declaring for the third, and the fourth will come out next year, when she’ll undoubtedly make short work of charming some suitable gentleman.”
“Especially with three married sisters to offer her advice,” Felix said with a mirthless grin.
“Precisely. And your mother has a right to expect you to settle down and produce a legitimate heir.” The earl paused and settled a meaningful look upon his son. “As do I.”
His father was right, of course. Felix was guiltily aware that he had been dragging his feet, and vowed to commence the search for a suitable wife. A little intellect, a compliant nature, and naturally, some beauty, were his only requirements. Having found such a creature, Felix would dutifully beget a nursery full of heirs and continue to conduct his life as he saw fit, following his own father’s example. But he would find his spouse for himself, without any interference from his mother.
“Father, you may rest easy on that score. I will oblige you both before you’re too much older, but it’s just that at the moment I — ”
Felix was relieved to have their conversation interrupted by a discreet knock. The butler entered and handed the earl a letter on a silver salver.
“This express was just delivered from Plymouth, my lord.”
“Thank you, Rogers.”
The earl broke the wafer, frowning as he read two pages covered in a close hand.
“Trouble?” Felix asked.
“Possibly. It’s from Smithers.”
Felix quirked a brow. “What could the Preventative Waterguard possibly want?”
“He requires an urgent meeting with me. Something about extreme and unusual smuggling activities.” The earl sighed. “It would seem that I must return to Plymouth.”
“How tiresome for you.”
Felix grinned, aware that his father would seize upon this very useful excuse to escape town and head to Western Hall, the family seat outside Plymouth — and not because he was particularly concerned about the revenue officer’s fears. That smuggling was taking place wasn’t in question.
As head of the eminent Western Shipping Line, a magistrate and a squire of great influence in the South West, such matters would routinely be reported to the earl. Felix suspected that a meeting to discuss this latest uprising could easily be postponed for another month or more, until the season came to an end. His father’s sudden need to return to the country would have more to do with his desire to be reunited with the mistress he kept in Plymouth.