“Then why are you here?” he demanded. “In my house. In my bed.”
Her eyes filled with grief. “Giles…”
“Do you love him?” he asked quietly.
“I love you,” she answered. Her eyes begged for him to believe her.
But if true, it only made him hurt worse.
He backed away from the bed until his head touched the wall and there was nowhere else to go.
She had a better offer. A titled lord with piles of gold and a collection of fancy estates. And the blackguard was nice. How was he supposed to compete with that?
“Is that what you want?” he asked hoarsely.
Of course it was. She’d told him so a hundred times.
“Is it what you still want?” he corrected. “A man who meets your criteria, but doesn’t hold your heart?”
“No,” she answered brokenly. “Not at all, but it’s the right thing to do. Even if he wasn’t the best shot at raising funds to support impoverished children, I promised my brother I would make the highest match I could get, to a man he approved of. Cole was hoping for duchess and Raymore is only a marquess, but—”
“Only a marquess,” Giles repeated, not bothering to hide his bitterness and hurt. “How will you suffer the ridicule?”
He’d meant to be sarcastic, but his razor-edged words only succeeded in wounding himself.
A marquess was an acceptable stand-in for a duke.
A coach smith was not.
He was the one who would cause her ridicule. He was the one whose company could never be endured in public.
He was the one she could live without.
“Giles…” Her eyes pleaded for understanding.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me. And if you don’t change your mind…” He gestured toward the door. “Don’t come looking.”
Chapter 15
Felicity slumped against the wall of the hackney cab and buried her face in her hands.
Keeping one’s promise to one’s brother was the honorable thing to do. Keeping one’s vow to indigent children with no other hope was the moral thing to do.
Yet walking away from Giles hadn’t felt like the right thing.
It had felt like losing everything.
Including her soul.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Grosvenor Square,” she mumbled.
That wasn’t what she wanted, either. There was nothing wrong with fighting for others. But sometimes, a woman had to fight for herself, too. Now that she’d tasted love, now that she knew what life with Giles might be like, how could she settle for anything less?
She couldn’t. Nothing was worth giving up love.
Felicity lifted her tear-streaked face from her hands and gazed down at her trouser-clad thighs. This could be the last time she dressed like who she truly was… or the first day of a better life. A life where she didn’t have to hide anymore. Where she could follow her passions, no matter what or who that might be.
If she went back to Giles now and begged for a second chance to get the answer right, he would always believe it was her marriage to him that ruined her standing in society and everything she wanted out of life.
Rubbish, of course. He was the best part of her. If it took losing her reputation to have him, then she’d do so first and openly, to prove choosing him was what she wanted, and that he wasn’t ruining anything.
“Driver!” She banged on the wall. “I changed my mind. The Haymarket, please.”
He made the next turn.
She smoothed her trousers and smiled. Ladies weren’t allowed in the Wicked Duke? Felicity was no lady. She would show everyone in London exactly what she thought of their rules, and prove to Cole that sometimes the “best” match wasn’t made in Almack’s, but in the heart.
“Haymarket,” said the driver without pulling over to the side of the road.
There was nowhere to pull to. So many horses and carriages filled the lanes around the Wicked Duke, there had barely been enough room to squeeze the hack into the mix.
Her legs trembled. Cole had always told her the tavern was the place to be after a big race, but she hadn’t expected this many people would bear witness to the scandal she was about to cause.
Even better, she told herself as she flipped the driver a coin. By the time word reached Giles, she would be infamous. He would know she was choosing to be with him because she’d chosen to be herself.
She marched into the Wicked Duke with her hands in her trouser pockets and her head held high.
“F-felicity?” Lord Raymore spluttered in disbelief.
Her heart jumped at the unexpected encounter. But of course he was here. Everyone else was. And Raymore deserved as much as anyone to know exactly what sort of woman he’d almost proposed to. Let him count his blessings that he was finding out now.
“Lady Felicity?” blurted another of her brother’s friends. “In trousers?”
“Lady Felicity in trousers!” A cheer went up and glasses clinked around the tavern as if they’d been waiting for the sister of a duke to walk through the door and cause the scandal of the season.
Her brother did not take up the cry. As he turned toward her, his pale cheeks mottled alarmingly in disbelief.
The crowd fell to a hush, their attention rapt.
Chin up, she strode forward to face him.
He looked like he wished to throttle her. “What the devil do you think you’re—”
“I don’t want to be a marchioness,” she blurted.
Cole opened his mouth.
“Or a duchess,” she added. “Or a countess or a viscountess or any other ‘-ess.’ I don’t want to be ‘a lady.’ I want to be Felicity. After so many years of doing my best to blend with others, I’ve finally figured out who I truly am. This is me.” She gestured at herself. “This is the sister you’ve known all your life. I’ve tried so hard to be someone else, but I can’t bear to live a lie for the rest of my life. Even for you.”
She prepared herself for the worst.
Her brother looked stricken. “I never wanted any of that for me. I wanted it for you.”
“You’re… not disappointed?” she stammered.
“I’m disappointed in me,” Cole answered, his cheeks flushing with shame. “From the time you were small, I’ve made you think you had to live whatever life I orchestrated for you. From the little helper at my heels in the smithy, to some grandiose matron of the ton. I was trying so hard to give you everything I wanted you to have, that I never stopped to ask you what you wanted.”
“I just wanted to make you proud,” she mumbled.
It was all she had ever wanted. To matter. To be important. To be accepted for who she was.
“You do make me proud.” He grasped her shoulders. “Felicity, there’s no better sibling a man could have. You’ve been my brother, my sister, my best friend, my confidante… My constant companion since the day you were born. I owe the world to you. Not the other way around.”
Her hands trembled.
“I wanted you to make a splendid match because you are splendid,” he said softly. “I want you to have your best chance at happiness. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
She drew a shaky breath.
He touched his knuckle to her chin. “The most splendid match you can make is with the man who loves you and makes you happy. Nothing else matters, Felicity. I swear it. Go with your heart. It will never lead you wrong.”
Before her eyes filled with tears in front of all these witnesses, she turned toward the door—and locked eyes with the only man she wanted.
He leaned against the far wall; his wounded arm tucked in a sling over his chest. The knuckles on his good hand were bruised now, too. Possibly due to the shiner currently empurpling one of Silas Wiltchurch’s eyes.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked tentatively.
Giles lifted a shoulder. “I was showing this gentleman the exit.”
“I’ll do it!” Half a do
zen men leaped to their feet at once to escort a sullen Wiltchurch to the door.
“Don’t bother to come back,” Cole called without bothering to look over his shoulder. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”
Her heart caught.
Silas Wiltchurch, nephew to one of society’s most powerful patronesses, was unwelcome.
Felicity could stay. Exactly how she was.
Now that she was here, how could she prove to Giles how much he meant?
“Is there a betting book?” she asked her brother.
He nodded, then frowned. “How many bad habits do you have?”
She ignored him and squared her shoulders.
“Giles Langford,” she called out as she strode straight toward the man. “I challenge you to a carriage duel.”
He narrowed his eyes as she drew closer. “What’s a carriage duel?”
“A race in which the loser owes the winner a boon,” she explained to the delight of the onlooking crowd. Several were already racing toward the betting book. “If I win, you marry Lady Felicity.”
His arms were already reaching toward her. “And if I win?”
“You marry Lord Felix,” she answered, lips twitching.
“Deal,” was the last thing he said before his mouth slanted over hers and the tavern’s whoops and wolf-whistles drowned out the pounding of their hearts.
This was what winning felt like.
Epilogue
Two years later
“Are you certain this is straight?” Giles called down from atop the ladder propped in front of the smithy.
“It’s perfect,” came his wife’s satisfied reply.
“I’m nailing now,” he warned. “This is how it’s going to look from this day forward.”
“Or until there’s another Langford,” she answered with a teasing wink.
He stepped down from the ladder to admire the smithy’s new Langford & Langford sign.
“Don’t you think Langford & Langford & Langford would start to get repetitive?” he asked.
“Fair point,” she said after a moment. “We should let the children decide if and how they’d like to be represented.”
He swung her into his arms and gave his gorgeous wife a kiss full of promise.
“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” she warned him. “I’ve barely half an hour to change clothes.”
His wife was currently in trousers, her hair tied in a simple tail, her smile as wide as his own. She didn’t look a lad or a lady. She looked like Felicity.
And there was no one Giles loved more.
“You’re not off for a test drive?” he asked in surprise.
She shook her head. “Directors’ meeting at the foundation.”
“Directors can’t wear trousers?” Giles teased.
“Low bodices raise more donations,” she answered with a saucy wink, and turned for the door.
He grinned after her.
After the wedding, her brother and his wife had joined forces with her and Giles to start the charitable foundation she’d always dreamed of. As soon as there was an account to deposit funds into, all four of them made the case to a packed crowd at the Wicked Duke.
Giles might not possess a title or entailed estates, but he was one of the most popular men in the city. Between his celebrity and both tavern owners taking up the cry in their respective exclusive gentlemen’s clubs, the foundation was off to a roaring start. In a little over a year, Felicity had a team of assistants, a detailed plan for disseminating food and clothing, and the money to start building a home for those who had nowhere else to go.
“Is there room for Langford & Langford & Neighborhood Lads?” asked one of his twelve-year-old apprentices.
“Langford & Langford & Neighborhood Lads & Lasses,” corrected his younger sister with her arms crossed over her leather apron.
Giles squinted up at the sign. It did have a nice ring to it.
“Maybe,” he said cheerfully and climbed back up the ladder. “Can one of you hand me the paintbrush?”
* * *
THE END
What happens when a sexy rector rescues a debutante who doesn’t want saving? Find out in ONE NIGHT OF TEMPTATION.
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In order, the Wicked Dukes Club:
One Night for Seduction by Erica Ridley
One Night of Surrender by Darcy Burke
One Night of Passion by Erica Ridley
One Night of Scandal by Darcy Burke
One Night to Remember by Erica Ridley
One Night of Temptation by Darcy Burke
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Wish Upon a Duke
Never Say Duke
Dukes, Actually
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The Duke’s Embrace
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Dawn With a Duke
One Night With a Duke
Ten Days With a Duke
Forever Your Duke
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Lord of Night
Lord of Temptation
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The Earl’s Defiant Wallflower
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The Duke's Accidental Wife
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Acknowledgments
As always, I could not have written this book without the invaluable support of my critique partner, beta readers, and editors. Huge thanks go out to Darcy Burke, Rose Lerner, Erica Monroe, and Tracy Emro. You are the best!
Lastly, I want to thank the Historical Romance Book Club facebook group and my fabulous street team. Your enthusiasm makes the romance happen.
Thank you so much!
About the Author
Erica Ridley is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of historical romance novels.
In the new Rogues to Riches historical romance series, Cinderella stories aren’t just for princesses… Sigh-worthy Regency rogues sweep strong-willed young ladies into whirlwind rags-to-riches romance with rollicking adventure.
The popular Dukes of War series features roguish peers and dashing war heroes who return from battle only to be thrust into the splendor and madness of Regency England.
When not reading or writing romances, Erica can be found riding camels in Africa, zip-lining through rainforests in Central America, or getting hopelessly lost in the middle of Budapest.
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One Night to Remember: Wicked Dukes Club #5 Page 13