What a Lady Wants

by Victoria Alexander

  “What everyone sees as his flaws.”

  “So why on earth would I, or any woman, for that matter, wish to change the very thing that attracted them in the first place?”

  Eugenia stared in disbelief. “Because…because…”

  “Yes?”

  “Because…he’s not suitable for marriage, that’s why.” Eugenia shook her head in an ominous manner. “If he does not change his ways, he shall surely break the heart of any woman foolish enough to marry him. Tigers never change their spots you know.”

  “Leopards.”

  Eugenia drew her brows together. “What?”

  “Leopards,” Felicity said. “Leopards have spots. You said tigers. Tigers have stripes.”

  “Tigers, leopards, it’s of no consequence.” Eugenia waved off the comment. “The point is the important thing, and you know what I meant. A beast is a beast and cannot change who he is.”

  “I’m not sure Mr. Cavendish is a beast,” Felicity said mildly. “He does seem to have some moral standards. As you’ve pointed out, I am not the type of woman he typically expresses an interest in. And in not one of the stories or gossip I’ve heard about him have I ever heard that he has ruined anyone.”

  “There’s always a first time,” Eugenia said darkly.

  Felicity studied her friend. “Is your opinion of me that low then? Do you think that I am stupid? That I would allow myself to be ruined?”

  “No, of course not.” Eugenia sighed. “You are probably the most intelligent woman I know. But intelligence flies out the window in the face of love.”

  Felicity laughed. “Love has not been mentioned.”

  “See that it isn’t! When he marries, as he is certain to do eventually, it will surely be to some meek, pretty little thing without a brain in her head who will be so pleased to be the next Viscountess Cavendish, she will overlook his indiscretions and other scandalous activities. It’s what men of his type do. I know you. You would not stand for that kind of behavior. Which means you would be terribly unhappy and your very life would be a misery.”

  Felicity stared. “What a lovely picture you paint.”

  “It’s a picture painted over and over and one I should not like to see you in the middle of. Felicity…” Eugenia’s voice softened “I have met several very nice gentlemen, friends of my husband, that I should like you to meet. They’re pleasant, not at all disreputable, and quite suitable for marriage.”

  “Quite suitable for marriage? That sounds very much like describing a horse as quite suitable for the park, but one wouldn’t want to wager on him in a race.”

  “That’s completely inappropriate.” Eugenia sniffed. “But accurate. One doesn’t want a race horse for a husband.”

  “One doesn’t want a draft horse either,” Felicity said dryly.

  “No, what one wants is a nice, sensible, horse for everyday outings. Broken well to the saddle and not prone to high-strung behavior. Exactly like my Albert.”

  “I daresay Albert would not take kindly to being compared to a sensible horse.” Although, if Felicity thought about it, dear, pleasant Albert might not mind being compared to a well-trained horse at all. “Besides, Eugenia, I have met any number of horses broken to the bit in these last seasons, and not one has been especially interested in me as…” Felicity bit back a grin. “As a rider.”

  “That’s because you haven’t been interested in the ride,” Eugenia snapped, then gasped. “Did I say that?”

  Felicity laughed. “You did indeed.”

  “You are a bad influence on me, you know.” Eugenia struggled against a smile, but then Felicity had always been able to make Eugenia smile.

  The two women could not have been more dissimilar. Not merely in appearance but in character as well. Eugenia was short and blond and prone to plumpness, with a creamy complexion and voluptuous figure. She could certainly advise Felicity to lower her standards, but if truth were told, Eugenia had never considered lowering hers. While she had pursued marriage with a single-minded determination, had indeed received several offers through the years, she had stood her ground until she had found the one man she wanted. That it had turned out to be Lord Kilbourne, Albert, a sensible, respectable sort of man with a quiet manner and equally quiet—though surprisingly quick—wit, surprised everyone, including Eugenia herself.

  “What ever makes you think these pleasant, reputable friends of Albert’s would be the least bit interested in me?” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. “Through five seasons I’ve received very little interest whatsoever.”

  “Probably because you expressed no interest in them. Have you ever considered that while you were finding them tedious, they were finding you equally dull?”

  “No. I can’t imagine such a thing.” Indignation sounded in Felicity’s voice. “I am exceptionally interesting. I am an excellent conversationalist. I have a well-developed sense of humor. I can be quite charming.”

  Eugenia raised a brow.

  “I can.”

  “When you wish to be.”

  “Well, of course, when I wish to be. And if a gentlemen isn’t at all interesting, then I see no reason to waste my time…what I mean to say…” Felicity wrinkled her nose. “Oh dear.”

  Eugenia smirked.

  “I am dull?” Felicity winced.

  “You were dull.”

  A horrible thought struck her. “Did you think I was dull?”

  “I’m your dearest friend, I would never think such a thing. However, was is the significant word here.” Eugenia studied Felicity. “But you’ve changed. I noticed it as soon as I saw you again. It’s all that travel and the continent and what ever, I suppose. And from what I’ve seen this season so far, gentlemen have noticed it as well.”

  “What do you mean by changed?” Felicity said slowly.

  “There’s an air about you of confidence, perhaps, or polish, refinement maybe. I don’t know. It’s as if you know a secret the rest of us do not and you do not intend to tell.”

  “Do you think so?” Felicity tried and failed to hold back a grin. This was much better than being dull. “A secret no one else knows? I rather like that.”

  “I thought you would.” Eugenia cast her a reluctant smile. “In addition, you’ve done something this season I’ve never seen you do before.”

  “I have?”

  Eugenia nodded. “You’ve been flirting. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you flirt before.”

  Felicity laughed. “What nonsense. Of course I have flirted before. I have always flirted. Why, I’m an incorrigible flirt.”

  Eugenia snorted. “You’ve never considered any man worth the trouble.”

  “Surely not. That can’t possibly be true. Why, I can name any number of flirtations, serious flirtations at that, from long before this year.” Still, now that the question was raised, Felicity couldn’t quite recall any specific instances of having flirted before this season. Certainly she had flirted with any number of men on her travels. There was the son of a French count, and a quite handsome Italian nobleman, and that charming composer in Vienna. And since her return, she had most definitely flirted with Lord Beckham and the very pleasant Mr. Copcorne at the theater and Sir Kenneth at a masquerade, although, upon reflection, it might not have been Sir Kenneth at all. And every conversation she’d had with Nigel thus far had had a definite element of flirtation. Why, none of it had taken any effort at all. And she had definitely noted gentlemen being far more attentive this year.

  “For a woman who claims to want to marry, you’ve never put any effort into it whatsoever.”

  Felicity shook her head. “I never realized it, but apparently not. Why haven’t you told me this before?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Eugenia said in an offhand manner and picked up a tart from her plate on the bench. “It didn’t seem important.”

  Felicity studied the other woman for a long moment. Eugenia always tended to eat when she was disconcerted about something. “Eugenia?”

 
Eugenia took a large bite of the tart. “Hmm?”

  Felicity took the now half-eaten pastry from her friend’s hand and tossed it into the bushes. “What are you trying not to say?”

  Eugenia swallowed and cast a longing glance at the tart. “Do keep in mind that I am your friend.”

  “I will.”

  The oddest look of what appeared to be guilt crossed her face. “Your dearest friend in the entire world.”

  Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Eugenia?”

  “I didn’t say anything for a number of reasons.” Eugenia paused to choose her words. “First of all, you weren’t nearly as eager to marry as I was, so it really didn’t seem necessary to say anything. And secondly…”

  “Go on.”

  “Frankly.” Eugenia drew a deep breath. “I was afraid if you made any effort at all, no one would pay the least bit of attention to me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Felicity stared in disbelief.

  “You’re tall and slender and far prettier than you’ve ever thought in a Greek statue sort of way.”

  “Me? A Greek statue?” Felicity scoffed. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s not at all silly. And the image is only enhanced by the somewhat aloof, disinterested manner you’ve always had.”

  Felicity winced. “Immovable?”

  “Precisely.” Eugenia shrugged. “As we were always together, I did fear if you were more approachable I would pale in comparison and no one would notice me.”

  “Not notice you? Men have always fallen over themselves to get to you. You’re petite and blond and you have”—Felicity gestured at Eugenia’s chest—“those.”

  Eugenia glanced down at her chest. “They have served me well. Regardless”—Eugenia met her friend’s gaze—“you were everything I wanted to be. I admit it, I was jealous.”

  “You were jealous of me? Me?”

  “Yes.” Eugenia’s face twisted in an expression of abject remorse and sheer misery. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Forgive you?” Felicity stared at her friend for a long moment. Who would have imagined that in those years, while Felicity would have given a great deal to have Eugenia’s curves and bubbly charm, Eugenia was envying Felicity’s form and manner.

  “Well?” Eugenia’s voice rose.

  “It seems to me,” Felicity said slowly, “all you’ve really done is to spare my feelings by not telling me how truly dull I was—”

  “Not to me,” Eugenia said quickly. “I’ve always thought you were extremely interesting.”

  “—and not mention that, in your opinion, I made no effort to attract or charm gentlemen, and was, in fact”—Felicity wrinkled her nose—“immovable.”

  Eugenia moaned. “And I am truly sorry.”

  “You needn’t be.” Felicity sighed. “I probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.”

  “Then you do forgive me?”

  “Aside from your jealousy, which I find more flattering than anything else, there is really nothing to forgive.”

  “Thank goodness.” Eugenia breathed a sigh of relief. “I have been concerned about this for some time. I felt quite awful about it, and I should like to make it up to you.”

  “Would you?”

  “I would indeed.” Eugenia nodded vigorously. “In any manner that I can. You are my dearest friend in the world, after all.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Felicity considered the possibilities. She wasn’t at all sure how she might be able to use Eugenia’s help, but Albert was another matter entirely. And while she didn’t have a plan for either of them at the moment, a pledge of assistance would be a nice weapon to have. “Anything at all?”

  Eugenia raised her chin. “Absolutely.”

  “Without question?”

  Eugenia clapped her hand over her heart. “Without so much as a moment of hesitation.”

  “Excellent.” Felicity grinned, took hold of Eugenie’s shoulders, and turned her around to face the crowd across the lawn. “Do you see Mr. Cavendish over there.”

  “Yes,” Eugenia said slowly.

  Felicity leaned close and said softly into her friend’s ear. “I intend to marry him.”

  Eugenia groaned. “No.”

  “Yes. I am as resolved to marry Mr. Cavendish as you were to marry Albert.”

  “But Albert is so…so…wonderful.”

  “As is Mr. Cavendish.” Felicity’s gaze lingered on Nigel, and her heart actually fluttered. “And you are going to help me.”

  Eugenia’s shoulders stiffened. “I will not.”

  “Oh but you will. Because you are my dearest friend in the world. And because some of those secrets I appear to be keeping”—she lowered her voice and resisted the urge to laugh—“are yours.”

  Eugenia gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I might.”

  “Very well then,” Eugenia snapped and jerked out of Felicity’s grasp. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. I simply want you to be ready to lend assistance should I need it.”

  “I think this is a horrendous mistake.” Eugenia blew a resigned breath. “But apparently I have no choice.” She drew her brows together. “Would you really tell my secrets?”

  Felicity grinned. “Only to Albert.”

  Eugenia narrowed her eyes. “You are a wicked, wicked woman, Felicity Melville. You and Mr. Cavendish probably deserve one another.”

  “Oh my dear Eugenia.” Felicity laughed. “I am counting on it.”

  Six

  What a mother really wants are children who are healthy and intelligent. Regardless of the price.

  Madeline, the Countess of Windham

  “You!”

  Nigel froze on the steps leading down to his sister’s ballroom. “What have I done now?”

  “Nothing at all, today,” Maddy snapped, looking more than a little frazzled. Odd, Maddy always had everything well under control before the beginning of a party but right now she had a cape on over her gown, her gloves in her hand, and looked like she was about to leave. Or flee. She drew a deep breath, obviously for calm. “I am simply grateful to see you.”

  “You don’t sound especially grateful. I’m not merely here but I am a good half an hour early. You couldn’t possibly ask for more.” He glanced around the all but deserted ballroom. No servants bustled about, no musicians tuned their instruments, no extravagant urns of flowers were in evidence. “Too early, perhaps?”

  “It’s a disaster, Nigel, an utter disaster.” Maddy squared her shoulders and determination sparked in her eyes. “Regardless, I have everything well in hand.”

  “Do you?” He raised a skeptical brow.

  “I do.” She started past him, pulling on one glove. “Now then, I need you to stay here and—”

  “Where are you going? And what is going on here?” He waved at the ballroom. “I must say this doesn’t look at all like a party is about to begin.”

  “That’s because it isn’t. At least not here.” Maddy blew a frustrated breath. “The party has been moved to Cavendish House. Mother offered to have it there the moment she heard what happened.”

  “What on earth did happen?”

  She grit her teeth. “We had a flood.”

  “Ouch.” He winced. “I know how nasty floods can be. It took months to get my house back in order. I just moved back in this week and—” He stopped and studied his sister. “Why are you glaring at me like that?”

  “Did you or did you not give my boys toy boats?”

  Nigel wasn’t entirely sure if he should confess although it did seem innocent enough. Still…“Yes?”

  “And what did you tell them when you gave them those…those”—she waved her glove at him—“boats?”

  “I told them I had great fun sailing boats on the ponds in the parks when I was a boy.”

  “And?”

  “And I told them on occasion I would…” At once he remembered exactly what he had said and the rapt e
xpressions on the faces of his nephews as they had hung on every word.

  “On occasion you would float them in bathtubs?” She fairly spit out the words.

  “On occasion,” he said weakly.

  She narrowed her eyes. “They decided that occasion was today. Suffice it to say there was something of an overflow.”

  “I say, Maddy, you can’t blame this on me,” he said with an appropriate level of indignation. “Where was their governess?”

  “Packing!” She closed her eyes, obviously to pray for strength. She drew a breath. “Apparently, the boys decided they needed sailors for their boats and frogs would do nicely.”

  “Frogs?” He shook his head. “On my word, I never mentioned frogs.” Oh he might have mentioned frogs at some point, although he was fairly sure it was not in connection with boats. Rather clever thinking on the part of his nephews though. One had to give the little devils their due. “Where did they get them?”

  “The garden probably. I don’t know and I don’t care.” She huffed. “They decided they needed a place to keep the frogs until the boats sailed and chose Miss Everett’s room. Needless, to say, the poor woman was distinctly unnerved when she opened her door to be confronted by frogs. Frogs!”

  “How many?” he said without thinking. Judging by his sister’s expression, it was not the right question to ask.

  “She said hundreds although I doubt there were that many. The boys claim there were no more than a half a dozen, but while they are prone to exaggeration, in situations like this they do tend to underestimate.” She bit her lip, and Nigel wasn’t sure if it was to keep from screaming or laughing. “We haven’t found them all.”

  “That is a problem,” Nigel murmured.

  “I would prefer not to have my guests find frogs in the punch bowl.” She was definitely trying not to laugh.

  He grinned. “It would be quite a sight though.”

  “This isn’t the least bit amusing. I am furious.” She paused, then sighed. “Perhaps it is a little amusing, although it would be far funnier if it had happened to someone else. Between the frogs and the flood…” She shook her head in disbelief. “The water, by the way, flowed into the upstairs hall and down the back stairs as well as leaking through to the lower floor. I have several floors and ceilings that now need to be repaired. Once we discovered the boys’ seafaring exploits and the extent of the problem, I realized I couldn’t possibly have the party here. Why, a good portion of my staff spent much of the day trying to mitigate the damage.”