Charmed by His Lordship (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 3)

by Jen Geigle Johnson

  FELICITY HAD CONTINUED the tour of the conservatory with a properly concealed but raging compulsion to find Lord Bolton and expose him for the outrageous flirt that he was. If he ruined her last chance at a respectable marriage, she would never forgive him. She snorted. What good would that do? He would be unaffected by her.

  She walked sedately at Mrs. Dotting’s side, heading to the parlor for games, belying the silent fury that energized her thoughts. “You must assist me in avoiding Lord Bolton wherever possible. If he approaches, you must engage him in conversation while I escape.”

  “Really, do you feel such measures to be necessary?”

  “I certainly do. People are talking.” She calmed her breathing. “If possible, it would be better were I to never be near him again.”

  “Might prove difficult since we are all at the same house party.”

  She sighed. “And I would leave, were it not for our urgent need to . . .” She searched the area around them. “Secure the affections of another.”

  Mrs. Dotting dabbed her brow. “In that regard, I do feel you’ve had some success?”

  “I do believe I have. If I can but continue to draw his eye . . .” The helpful tips already offered by Lord Bolton came to mind. She’d come to rely on his opinions too much in regards to capturing Lord Ridgecrest’s attention.

  “How could he not notice you? This new dress is lovely. One of your finest.”

  “Thank you.” She shook the skirts, enjoying their responding shimmer. The light blue, almost white, trailed to the ground, a wide ribbon of deep pink tied at her waist. Her neckline was lined with the same coloring in lace and ribbon. “I think the pink aids in my complexion.” Her mother had said so countless times. Thinking of her now brought such a tinge of sorrow, tears brimmed at her eyes. She turned away and blinked furiously, but one fell down her cheek.

  “Oh, my lady, your eyes will be red. What is the matter?” Mrs. Dotting dug in her reticule for a handkerchief, but Lord Ridgecrest surprised them both with his appearance and offered one.

  “May I?”

  Felicity reached for the lovely white handkerchief and rested her hand on the arm he offered. “You’ve come to my rescue, my lord. Thank you.” She allowed all of her pleased reaction to him to show on her face. But Lord Bolton’s advice came to mind, and she bit back any overexuberant expressions that came to mind. Such as, Your timing is so impeccable, I wonder if we are of one mind already.

  He dipped his head. “I’m happy to hear I can be of assistance.”

  She offered it back, and he shook his head. “You may keep it.”

  Her face heated, but she tucked it carefully away in her reticule, trying to appear less affected than she was. “Will you be playing whist? Or are you more of a hazard player?”

  “I am not one for games usually, but I might be cajoled into it if a certain lovely lady were to request.” He winked.

  She sucked in her breath. “I will keep that in mind. I for one enjoy a good game, but I find other activities much more useful, more proper, as cards tends to bring out a competitive nature in the best of us, and one not so ladylike as perhaps you would expect.”

  He chuckled. “No fear of that side showing to me. We have no secrets between us.”

  Concerned, she added. “Though I don’t feel the need to suppress any tendencies you may suspect from my childhood. One outgrows those rather completely.”

  He nodded absentmindedly as they approached the opened double doors. They were early, apparently, for few had arrived. “Where shall I leave you? It seems I have forgotten an item in my room.”

  “Oh, well. I would be happiest right over there in that chair with the needlepoint. A group of ladies and I are all hoping to work together and finish it by the end of the party, a gift for the Garveys.”

  He hardly heard, his glance checking the entrance enough times, she suspected whom he sought. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He bowed and clicked his heels as he moved from the room.

  Mrs. Dotting frowned. “Not sure what to make of that lord.”

  “Nor I, to tell you the truth. But come. We mustn’t concern ourselves. He said he would return and that he could be convinced to play a game if I asked.” She straightened her back in pleased success. “That has to mean something.”

  Mrs. Dotting sat at her side, lifting a book from a nearby table. “It appears you are correct, my lady.” Her expression blank, Felicity could not read what she might be hiding, but she suspected Mrs. Dotting had thoughts she kept to herself.

  “Who do you prefer?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Of the two men we’ve come to know so far, who would you marry?”

  Mrs. Dotting’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sure I don’t know how to answer that question.”

  Felicity watched her, but she lifted the book and said no more. So Felicity lifted her needle and began to add flowers to the design.

  “Lord Bolton is just so jovial, kind, and pleasing to look upon, is he not?”

  The book remained raised, and that’s all Mrs. Dotting would say, but Felicity couldn’t help but consider her words. Yes, he was jovial, kind . . . her heart sped up… And pleasing to look upon. But he was not well mannered. He was presumptuous. And . . .fixated on a singular course to win over Miss Tanning. She wondered at the disappointment that filled her. “I heard he is penniless.”

  “Well, that shouldn’t signify to you, should it?”

  “Not necessarily, but there is likely a reason for his impoverished state.”

  Mrs. Dotting grunted and turned a page.

  Felicity eyed the room. A few of the ladies had gathered, taking up places about the room in relatively quiet pursuits. She smiled in satisfaction. As it should be. Two new women to whom Felicity had not yet been introduced were in conversation with one another on the other side of the room. Felicity immediately hoped they might be friends. They both looked up and smiled. “Who are they?”

  Mrs. Dotting glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, that’d be the Lady Anslowe and Miss Lucy Brook. They both have interesting bits of gossip—”

  “Gossip? Mrs. Dotting, are we to resort to the habits of small-minded creatures and share negative news about another?”

  Mrs. Dotting puffed and prattled for a moment before she said, “I was only going to say what I’ve heard that’s positive . . .” She turned another page and stayed silent.

  Which Felicity found difficult to resist. “Oh, do tell it, then. I long for friends. Perhaps they might be the sort?”

  “Well, the one on the right is an heiress. You can’t tell by looking at her, I know, but she owns and runs, mind you, a bank.”

  Felicity eyed her with a new admiration. “But surely that’s not respectable? For a woman?”

  “There are some that might think as you, but I’m of the sort that thinks it’s perfectly respectable for her to own a bank.”

  Felicity nodded. “Just so.” But after so many years of some in society turning up their noses at her mother’s family’s source of income, she didn’t quite know what to think about a woman boldly out in society as a bank owner.

  Mrs. Dotting leaned closer. “Apparently, there’s been some talk questioning the bank’s stability with the likes of her in charge, but I’m of the mind to put more money in there. Just to show the world what I think of their opinions.” She lifted her book again and Felicity laughed. “You, Mrs. Dotting are quiet liberally minded.”

  “I guess in this instance, I am.”

  Felicity considered Miss Brook. She seemed so unassuming, pretty, but nothing in her appearance led Felicity to believe she carried a certain powerful leadership that controlled men and their placement of money. She found herself a bit in awe of the woman. “And who’s the other?”

  “She and her husband have come to the party together.” Lord and Lady Anslowe. She paused as if this information were heavy with meaning.

  “And is that unexpected?”

  “Oh, it most certainly
is, because they haven’t lived together yet. She lives in the north and he stays in London, from the moment of their marriage.”

  Felicity continued with her stitching, pondering the plight of others. Everyone’s life situations were so different from one another. Perhaps there wasn’t simply one standard by which to live, one set of rules dictated by the governesses. “We give those women a lot of power.”

  “Pardon me?” Mrs. Dotting looked around. “Who?”

  “Our governesses.”

  “Power? Whatever do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, never you mind. I’m suddenly questioning a few things, that is all. I’ll probably return to normal by morning.”

  As she stitched, the more she wondered if perhaps her outlook on life, her perception of her own unworthiness, was taught to her by small-minded people. Here at the house party were women of all backgrounds, all circumstances. And each accepted in her way.

  She found the space underneath her stitching and poked the needle up through the back just as a booming voice entered the room. “Come, Miss Tanning. We must be partners at whist.”

  Mrs. Dotting smiled over the top of her book, and Felicity groaned. “We must not notice Lord Bolton, Mrs. Dotting. Stop smiling. Stop . . . smiling.”

  “I shall gather our table full of players, Miss Tanning, never you fear.”

  “Is he coming?” Felicity hissed to Mrs. Dotting.

  “I’m not looking.”

  A pair of Hussein’s sat down beside her.

  She lifted her eyes to a chagrined Lord Bolton.

  “What, may I ask, are you doing? Lady Felicity, surely this cannot be.”

  “I don’t understand.” She shook unaccountably at his presence, so much so that she daren’t lift the needle.

  “Are you not still about the task of garnering attention from perfection in manhood himself, Lord Ridgecrest?”

  She cleared her throat and looked around. Thankfully no one seemed to be hearing his words.

  “Will you please speak quieter? Really, Lord Bolton. I hardly think it proper to discuss such a subject so openly.”

  “That is beside the point I’m trying to make, which is you had best desist in the art of needlework this instant and come play a game of whist.”

  “What? Why would I do that? We’re working on a gift.”

  He peered over her shoulder. “That is quite lovely, I will admit. A gift for whom?” He reached a finger out, not touching the flowers she’d been working on but nearly. “And who did this bit right here? It is exquisite.”

  “Why, that was me. I did that while I waited for others to come.”

  “My mother and my grandmother would be impressed.”

  “I—what?”

  “Yes, precisely. Needlepoint is for the purpose of impressing men’s mothers in your training as a proper wife. It means nothing at all to the men in the room.”

  “You just pointed out . . .”

  “Well, except perhaps to me. I do find that bit catching and would talk some more about it, but no other man is going to care about the precise smallness of your stitches.” He held a hand out to escort her. “Come now, we must be about whist. We shall garner a partner for you, and then when the mysterious perfect man shows up, you will be engaging and fun and he will wish he were your partner.”

  She couldn’t refuse. They’d already spent enough time talking in hushed tones. Everyone was bound to suspect what Miss Hastings had accused, that he was actively pursuing her. So she placed her hand in his. The thrilling warmth that filled her raced through her stomach, flipping it around in excited circles. “Oh.”

  His eyes darkened for a moment, and he narrowed the space between them. “Just so.” Then he blinked, straightened, and led her over to the table where Miss Tanning was waiting.

  Felicity realized as she sat and situated herself that she didn’t even hope for Lord Ridgecrest to come. She was quite satisfied with things just as they were. And that was the most dangerous way for her to feel right now, when it was of highest urgency that she win over Lord Ridgecrest before he was convinced by any other female.

  CHAPTER 7

  L ord Bolton leaned forward and winked at Felicity and Miss Tanning. “And now we wait for our fourth.”

  Mr. Chamberlain approached at a nearby table. His four began to play at once. Miss Hastings glanced over her shoulder at the empty chair and raised her eyebrows at Lady Felicity before turning her superior expressions back toward Mr. Chamberlain.

  And suddenly, Abraham wanted nothing more to do with Miss Hastings.

  Miss Tanning fiddled with the cards. “Lady Felicity, do you play the piano forte?”

  “I do. Yes. Do you?”

  Her answer intrigued Abraham, for most ladies qualified the statement with their deplorable lack of skill or their willingness to play for others. Her simple answer made him immediately wish to hear her play. “Then we shall have to hear all you ladies play. Do you play Miss Tanning?”

  “I do as well. My friends often request that I play for them. I don’t know whether out of friendship alone or enjoyment of my talent.” She lowered her lashes, and Abraham was amused at her typical debutante response. Either the ladies were not much to be celebrated by their own admission, or their friends thought highly of their musicality.

  “I should like to hear you both, then, perhaps tomorrow after breakfast?”

  “Perhaps.” Lady Felicity watched the door.

  Where was that dratted Ridgecrest?

  “I could go and fetch our elusive fourth member, I suppose.”

  “No!” Miss Tanning and Lady Felicity exclaimed together.

  Their cheeks equally pink, Abraham had to wonder at their reaction. Did Lady Felicity not wish to play whist with Lord Ridgecrest? And why should Miss Tanning care at all?

  He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Lady Felicity would not meet his eyes, and Miss Tanning watched the entry doors an unnecessary amount. This would not do.

  A gasp interrupted whatever Miss Tanning would have said next, for a shadow stood in the doorway. A man with broad shoulders, thick arms, a tanned face, and hair tied back behind him.

  The footman announced. “Lord Bellingham.”

  Silence followed his announcement. All in the room rose and bowed or curtsied, and Lord Bellingham followed suit.

  “Do you know who that is?” Miss Tanning leaned forward.

  Miss Hastings, who sat at her left, said, “He’s been in India. I wonder why he’s suddenly returned . . .” She frowned. “And why he’s here now.”

  His eyes seemed fierce, and he carried himself as though he were in pain. Before Abraham could stop himself, he waved the man over.

  But Ridgecrest had chosen that moment to make an appearance as well. He bowed. “Might I have this spot?”

  Lady Felicity nodded. “Yes, we are waiting on one more.”

  He sat just as Lord Bellingham arrived at their side.

  Abraham stood again. “Have you just come to join us? I would like to make the introductions, but I am at a great disadvantage.”

  “I can do the honors.” Lord Ridgecrest stood again. “For I just met him in the hallway. Lord Bolton, Lady Felicity, Miss Tanning, this is Lord Bellingham. I think we will find him an interesting conversationalist, for he’s just returned from India.”

  “Oh have you?” Lady Felicity smiled at him in a manner she had no business sharing with other men. Abraham wanted to step in front of Lord Bellingham so as to feel some of the sunshine warmth of her smile on him instead. What an absurd thought.

  Ridgecrest seemed impervious to the ladies’ reactions or to the intrigue of the man towering over them.

  Abraham nodded again. “We were just about to play whist. We’d enjoy an audience, Bellingham, if you’d care to join us. And Ridgecrest, your chair.”

  “Oh, of course.” Lord Ridgecrest smiled at everyone in their group, his gaze lingering overly long on Miss Tanning, and Lord Bolton frowned. Perhaps he had missed something s
ignificant. Lady Felicity seemed to notice as well, and her look of great discomfort and self-conscious embarrassment nudged Abraham’s protective instincts. “Shall we begin?”

  They passed out the cards. And Lord Bellingham excused himself to talk with someone on the opposite side of the room.

  When Abraham returned his attention to the cards, Lord Ridgecrest and Miss Tanning were making eyes at one another, and Lady Felicity looked like she wished to disappear.

  Abraham cleared his throat. “Lady Felicity, I hear, is excellent on the piano forte.”

  She raised her eyes in alarm and looked from Lord Ridgecrest to him and back. “I, um. Thank you.” She shook her head at Lord Ridgecrest, only a fraction, but Abraham noticed and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why such an innocuous comment would arouse concern. “She has agreed to play for us tomorrow after we breakfast. Perhaps you’d like to join us?” He watched Ridgecrest’s hesitation with growing irritation. “Miss Tanning will also be joining us and favoring us with a number.”

  “Will she! I’d be delighted. Thank you for mentioning it so that I might also benefit.”

  As he watched Lady Felicity sink further into a shell, he sat up straighter and allowed her to see his cards.

  Her eyes widened, then he winked and hid them. Her face reddened but just as he hoped. That tiny sparkle of competitive rebellion he’d noticed on the beach surfaced, and she placed a winning card.

  Lord Ridgecrest sighed overly loud. “Not the best card to place at this moment, but I don’t expect you to understand the subtlety of the game. I’ll try and cover for us both.”

  Lady Felicity’s eyes widened, but that’s all the indication Abraham received of her emotion. Hopefully she was furious. Because Abraham would have been.

  He and Miss Tanning placed their own cards, and Lady Felicity won, as they both knew she would.

  She then won all the remaining hands to her growing delight. Abraham chuckled at her incredible competitive urges. Gathering all the cards to her, she glowed. “Would you like to play again?”

  Lord Ridgecrest sniffed. “I believe it might be time to switch up the partners.”