What a Lady Wants

by Victoria Alexander

  Norcroft snorted. “Or Nigel, Prince of the Fools.”

  Nigel shrugged, the weight of his wings bothersome against his back. They were made of gauze attached to a thin wooden frame and appeared light and airy but were, in truth, anything but. “Where did you get these things anyway?”

  “I’m not sure.” Norcroft studied Nigel’s wings. “I asked my mother if she had any ideas regarding wings and she produced these.” He reached up and flicked something off Nigel’s right wing. “I think they were in the attic.”

  “They look”—Sinclair could barely choke out the words—“good on you. You should wear them more often.”

  Sinclair and Norcroft exchanged glances although it was difficult to tell for sure as both men had chosen to forgo costumes as such and simply wear masks. Their laughter, however, was unmistakable.

  “Why aren’t the two of you in costume?” Nigel asked irritably. “It is a masquerade after all.”

  “Once I loaned you the family wings, there was little point to it,” Norcroft said. “Besides, we are eminently eligible unmarried men. Masquerade or not, we could wear almost anything we wish and still be welcomed with open arms.”

  “Whereas you are trying to impress a”—Sinclair paused for emphasis—“wife.”

  Nigel raised a brow, although under his own mask it was probably a pointless gesture. “You told him?”

  “I tried not to but”—Norcroft shook his head—“this was just too delicious to keep to myself.”

  “I’m not trying to impress…” Nigel chuckled. “Perhaps I am. I didn’t really court her, you know. I just stumbled into this marriage.”

  “I think fell is a more appropriate word,” Sinclair murmured.

  “Or toppled.” Norcroft grinned. “Over the edge of a balcony.”

  “And now he’s fallen again, hopelessly in love, that is.” Sinclair heaved an overly dramatic sigh.

  “Do you think so?” Nigel continued to scan the crowd, but Sinclair’s words echoed in his mind. Was this indeed love? Certainly he wanted Felicity. In his bed obviously, but he’d wanted that from the start. Only recently had he realized he wanted her in his life as well.

  “Let us consider the matter for a moment then, shall we?” Norcroft studied his friend. “To begin with, it was not quite a week ago that you were congratulating yourself for coming up with a brilliant plan—”

  “Brilliant only in your own mind,” Sinclair cut in.

  Norcroft ignored him. “—to permit you to continue your wicked ways—”

  “Not all of them,” Nigel said under his breath.

  “—and live your life precisely as you wished.” Norcroft shook his head. “It didn’t seem especially wise to us—”

  Sinclair snorted. “It seemed pretty damn st—”

  “Yet we held our tongues,” Norcroft continued, “in the spirit of friendship.”

  “The spirit of male unity. It seemed the least we could do.” Sinclair bit back a grin. “For the King of the Fairies.”

  Nigel sighed. “I admit that might have been a mistake.”

  “I should think so.” Sinclair scoffed. “Winged pirates went out of fashion years ago.”

  “Not the costume.” Nigel rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “My plan. Once I realized that there was a greater power at work here, fate, that is, I should have accepted that Felicity and I were destined to be together. Needless to say, being together in regards to a woman like Felicity means marriage and all that marriage entails. I shouldn’t have fought it.” He shook his head. “I should have embraced it.”

  “Embraced it?” Norcroft could barely choke out the words. “You? Embrace marriage?”

  “Not marriage precisely, but marriage to Felicity. It’s an entirely different thing altogether. Although we all are well aware marriage awaits each one of us eventually.”

  “Good God, he is the King of the Fairies.” A stern note sounded in Sinclair’s voice. “Out with it now. What have you done with Nigel Cavendish?”

  “I suspect he has turned him into a husband.” Norcroft sipped his champagne thoughtfully. “And a content one at that?”

  “Not quite yet.” It was startling to realize that he could indeed be content and happy with Felicity by his side for the rest of his days. “But I fully intend to be.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say anything even remotely like that.” Norcroft considered his friend for a long moment. “You’ve changed, Nigel. For the better, I think. Since you began work with your father, you’ve become a different man.”

  “Not nearly as amusing though,” Sinclair said under his breath.

  “I am sorry to disappoint you,” Nigel said in a dry manner.

  “I’m not.” Sinclair’s tone was abruptly sincere. “I haven’t known you for long, but I must admit, when we first met, I thought surely you would come to a bad end.”

  “Shot by an angry husband,” Norcroft said.

  “Stabbed by an irate father,” Sinclair chimed in.

  “Set upon by thugs hired by an angry husband or an irate father,” Norcroft continued.

  “Poisoned by a spurned—”

  “That’s quite enough.” Nigel grinned. “I will confess, though, none of those dire prospects were entirely out of the realm of possibility. Now, however…” He caught sight of Felicity across the room, speaking to an older gentleman he didn’t know. How could anyone have ever thought her merely pleasant? “Now, gentlemen, I am ready.”

  “Ready?” Norcroft chuckled. “For what?”

  “For all of it, Norcroft. For responsibility, for marriage, to take my place in the world.” Nigel shook his head. “It’s odd, though, isn’t it? Less than a month ago I was terrified at the idea of filling my father’s shoes and I had no interest in marriage whatsoever. Now…” His gaze drifted back to his wife.

  “Now, old friend,” Norcroft said softly, “everything has changed and you are the better for it.”

  “I am indeed.” Nigel downed the rest of his champagne and set the glass on the tray of a conveniently passing waiter. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have a wife to enchant.” He straightened his mask and shrugged his shoulders. “Blast it all. Sinclair, be a good fellow and adjust my wings.”

  Sinclair took a step back. “I’d rather not.”

  “I’ll do it,” Norcroft said, handed his glass to Sinclair, and moved to Nigel’s back. “I daresay they need some adjustment. They look a bit crooked.” Norcroft tugged at his wings. “There, that should do.” Norcroft turned him around, clapped his hands on Nigel’s shoulder, and stared him straight in the mask. “Go forth and claim your queen, oh King of the Fairies.”

  Sinclair bowed in an exaggerated manner. “And may all the power of the fairy kingdom be with you.”

  “Come now, gentlemen.” Nigel flashed them a wicked grin. “I scarcely think I’ll need it.” He nodded and started off.

  “You do realize you have forfeited your portion of the tontine,” Sinclair called after him.

  Behind him, Norcroft chuckled. “I don’t think he cares.”

  “I can’t possibly dance another step.” Felicity laughed and took Nigel’s arm.

  “Fresh air then.” He nodded and led her out of the ballroom and into the night.

  The terrace was lit with flickering candles and bedecked with lanterns and urns of flowers and potted plants. Indeed, it appeared that Lady Treadwell had raided her conservatory and half a dozen others to create a fairyland of light and scent and magic. Overhead the stars twinkled, and they too became part of the magic of the night. And it was indeed a magical night.

  Felicity slanted a quick glance at her husband. She wasn’t at all sure what had come over Nigel tonight. Not that he hadn’t always been charming and flirtatious. But to night there was a subtle difference in his behavior. To night his charm, his flirtation was directed at her alone in a most personal manner. She wasn’t sure why and was almost afraid to question it. This last week had certainly brought them closer. Not simply i
n an intimate sense, although that was quite extraordinary, but their physical relationship had led to long discussions while lying in bed of everything ranging from politics to philosophy. The man was far more intelligent than anyone gave him credit for. But then she’d known that from the beginning. She knew he’d accepted their marriage as a fact of life, in a rational, intellectual sense. What choice did either of them have anyway? Now she couldn’t help but wonder if he were starting to accept it in his heart as well.

  They paused in front of the balustrade that overlooked Lady Treadwell’s garden. Below them the grounds were lit nearly as well as the terrace, and the sound of a fountain could be heard somewhere nearby.

  Felicity gazed out over the garden and sighed with contentment. “It’s a wonderful night, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is.” His voice was low beside her.

  She glanced at him. “You are exceptionally charming this evening.”

  “My dear Felicity, I am always exceptionally charming,” he said in a lofty manner.

  “And exceptionally flirtatious as well.”

  “That is entirely your doing.” He leaned close and spoke softly into her ear. “I have always enjoyed flirting with fairy queens.”

  She laughed. “Do you realize your wings are crooked?”

  “I’m not surprised.” He pulled off his mask. “The blasted things are far heavier than they look.”

  She wiggled her shoulders. “Mine are extremely light.”

  “Yes, well, I am the king.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “It’s a heavy burden to bear.”

  “The wings, you mean?”

  “The wings are simply a symbol.” A royal note sounded in his voice. “It’s a difficult job, governing fairies, that is. They are quite an unruly lot. Always flitting about here and there. Getting caught in butterfly nets. Trapped under flowers. Being forced to grant wishes.”

  “Do fairies grant wishes, then?”

  “Yes, of course. It stands to reason, doesn’t it?” His brow furrowed. “Perhaps not all of them. Perhaps only”—he ginned—“the King of the Fairies can grant wishes. Do you have a wish you want granted?”

  My wish has already been granted. She shook her head and laughed. “Not at the moment, but I shall keep it in mind should something occur to me.”

  “See that you do.” A pompous note sounded in his voice as if he were indeed king.

  She studied him curiously. “You’ve been very attentive to night. You do realize everyone here has been watching us. Is that why?”

  “Not at all. I expected as much but in truth I haven’t noticed.” He raised a brow. “Can’t a man flirt with his own wife?”

  “I daresay it isn’t done that often.”

  “No, it isn’t.” His voice was abruptly serious. “I suppose that’s why there are so many wives who look outside their marriage vows for flirtation. It strikes me that if men, as a whole, were more attentive to their wives, and perhaps remembered why they married them in the first place, there would be fewer”—he cleared his throat—“arrangements.”

  “Wisdom from experience,” she murmured.

  “One can only hope I have learned something.” He paused. “You should know, Felicity, that I am not ashamed of my past behavior. Embarrassed perhaps by the stupidity of parts of it, but not ashamed. I was never involved with a woman who did not wish to be involved with me.”

  “Will you remember?” she said abruptly.

  “Remember the women in my past?”

  “No, of course not.” She gestured in a dismissive manner. “I should prefer you forget them completely. I meant will you remember why we married?” She wasn’t entirely sure how she wanted him to answer.

  “Yes.” He chuckled. “And no. Although it’s quite an amusing story really, one we should tell our children someday.”

  “Our children,” she said faintly.

  “Of course, there will certainly be children.” A wicked smile curved his lips, and the unmistakable feeling of desire pooled within her. Good Lord, would he always be able to do this to her with nothing more than a smile? She did hope so. “Between your willingness to learn and my ability to teach, I daresay we shall have a dozen or more.”

  “Or less.”

  “We shall leave it up to fate,” he said firmly. “It has served us well thus far.”

  She cast him a curious glance. “Do you think so? Served us well, that is?”

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged his wings. “But it appears I have changed my mind. You have changed my mind.”

  “Have I?” Her words had a slight breathless quality.

  “Indeed you have.” His gaze slid to her lips and back to her eyes. “Do you think people are watching us now?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Do you care?”

  She raised her chin. “Not at all.”

  “Would they notice, then, if I took you in my arms right here and kissed you?”

  She leaned toward him. “I think that might well attract attention, yes.”

  “And scandal?”

  “At the very least gossip.” But well worth it. She wanted nothing more at the moment than for him to kiss her, here on the terrace, under the stars. Her stars. “What would people say?”

  “Well they’d say, ‘Look, that fairy king with the crooked wings is kissing his fairy queen.’”

  “I suspect that’s not all they’d say,” she murmured.

  “They might also say, ‘Why, isn’t that the infamous Mr. Cavendish kissing the immovable Lady Felicity Cavendish?’”

  She swallowed hard. “They might say such a display explains their hasty wedding.”

  “Or they could say”—he gazed into her eyes—“‘Why, they look as if they belong together.’”

  Her breath caught. “Could they say that?”

  “They could indeed.” He untied her mask and gently pulled it off. “If they were perceptive and intelligent they would add, ‘What a lucky man that Nigel Cavendish is. Why, he should thank’”—a slow smile spread across his face—“‘fate for bringing her into his life.’”

  “You would thank fate then?” she said slowly. “You no longer feel like a boulder rolling downhill?”

  “Oh, I still feel like a boulder.” He chuckled. “But I must confess I am beginning to enjoy the tumble.”

  Perhaps it was time to tell him fate had had a tiny bit of help. She straightened. “Nigel—”

  “I never imagined I would and I didn’t at first, of course. But I’m starting to see everything that’s happened in a different light. One can’t fight fate after all.”

  “No, but Nigel—”

  “There’s a purpose, a plan if you will. I see that now.” He nodded firmly.

  “Nigel—”

  “In fact, at this very moment, even though the terrace is nearly as full as the ballroom itself, fate is compelling me to kiss you.”

  She surrendered. Obviously this was not the time to confess anything, let alone the role she had played in helping fate along. That could certainly wait until later. Until they had their first child perhaps. Or their third. Or until they were as old as Lord and Lady Fernwood. “One should never fight fate.”

  “As I have learned.” He shrugged. “Resisting fate is futile.”

  “It will be most scandalous. A kiss here, that is.”

  “That’s entirely part of the fun.” He put his finger beneath her chin and tilted it upward. “Besides, the best way to dispel gossip about our marriage is to give the gossips something else to talk about.” His lips brushed hers.

  “Will we give them a great deal to talk about in the future?”

  “With any luck at all.”

  “Individually, as Lord and Lady Pomfrey do?” She held her breath. “Or together?”

  “You once told me you didn’t want a dull, boring predictable life.” His gaze locked with hers, his tone was somber. “I promise you now to do everything in my power—”

  “As King of the Fairies?�
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  “As Nigel Cavendish, to keep our lives from ever being dull, boring, and predictable. To make each and every day an adventure. And I promise as well that we shall never be the least bit like Lord and Lady Pomfrey. Aside from everything else, Lord and Lady Pomfrey would never be caught kissing one another in public.” He smiled. “Someone else perhaps, but never each other.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Then kiss me, Nigel, and let the scandal begin.”

  And he did, quite nicely and with a restrained but obvious passion that caused even the most forgiving of observers to raise a brow. And if, as the evening wore on, Felicity noticed any number of condemning looks at their improper display of affection, she noted as well an equal, if not greater, number that could only be described as envious of what she and Nigel appeared to have found that so many others had not.

  Much later, when they had at last returned home and he had taken her to his bed, his kiss was every bit as exciting, his touch as skillful, his caress as arousing as before to night, but there was a subtle change in their coupling. Their passion was somehow deeper, richer, forever. And when his body joined with hers, it was as if they were made one for the other, two halves of a whole at long last one. As if their bodies knew, long before their hearts, that they were indeed destined to be together. For now, for always.

  And in those moments afterward, when she lay in his arms, a deep joy filled her soul, and she wondered if anyone had ever been as happy as she was right now.

  And wondered as well what the gossips would say about that.

  Thirteen

  What a lady really wants is love.

  Lady Felicity Cavendish

  Nigel Cavendish was a new man.

  At least he felt like a new man, and in many ways he suspected he was. Even his father had noted the change in his mood and had commented on it. They’d had a long talk then about the twists and turns life takes, about the responsibility inherent in position and even about fate. In many ways it was an odd talk, but then, since he’d begun his involvement in the family affairs, they’d talked more and more about things that had nothing to with the family’s interests. Frequently the topic had been his father’s life, and Nigel had heard all sorts of fascinating stories. Often they discussed the future. They would talk of politics or literature or art. Sometimes they’d talk about nothing of importance at all, and that too was satisfying.