What a Lady Wants

by Victoria Alexander

  “You could try talking to her. Apologizing for being such a fool.”

  He poured a glass and tossed it back. “She won’t speak with me.”

  “You’ve tried, then?”

  “I have sent a note every day since the funeral. They are returned unopened.” He shook his head. “I just want to talk to her.”

  “She is living up to her vow, all that nonsense about making you happy by getting out of your life.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that?”

  She waved away his question. “I might have overheard something.”

  “Something?” He raised a brow. “Or all of it?”

  “Not all of it. I missed a word or two, here and there,” she said under her breath. “Damnably solid door on that room.”

  He should have been annoyed at her eavesdropping but he wasn’t. He needed her help now as he had never needed it before. And the more she knew, the greater help she might be.

  He refilled his glass. “You should know, I seriously considered not doing anything at all. Letting her go her own way with an eye toward dissolving the marriage eventually.”

  “Divorce? Are you insane?” Maddy’s eyes widened. “Has grief affected your mind? She is the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

  “I know that, dear sister.” He raised his glass to her. “But am I the best thing that has ever happened to her?”

  “Of course you are,” she said staunchly.

  “I appreciate your sense of sisterly loyalty but I have done nothing except think of myself from the moment I first met her. I have been selfish and arrogant and”—he shook his head—“she deserves better.”

  “Certainly she deserves better. Most women do. Men in general are selfish, arrogant beasts. You are, unfortunately, typical.”

  “So much for sisterly loyalty,” he muttered.

  “It has nothing to do with loyalty, it’s simply a fact of life.”

  “That’s rather cynical of you.”

  “Not at all. It’s realistic and based on years of marriage to a selfish, arrogant beast.” She stared at him. “He has turned out quite nicely now but surely you don’t think Gerard was a paragon of masculine virtue when we first met?”

  “He always struck me as a decent sort of chap.”

  “Yes, well, he would because you and he are very much alike, at least when it comes to your behavior toward women.” She considered him thoughtfully. “There’s only one thing that truly changes a man.”

  “And that is?”

  “Love, Nigel.” Her gaze searched his. “You do love her, don’t you?”

  He blew a long breath. “I’m very much afraid I do. But if I love her, how can I condemn her to a lifetime with me? With a selfish, arrogant beast?”

  “That’s my point exactly. You’re already thinking of her rather than yourself. It’s a very good start.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “No, but it is a beginning.” Maddy paused. “You do realize she loves you as well?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand how she could.”

  “Love is not something one understands. It’s not supposed to be rational or logical, it simply is. You love her and are willing to give her up to make her happy. She loves you and is willing to give you up to make you happy. The end result for both of you is—”

  “Happiness?” he said in a dry manner.

  “Abject misery.” She scoffed. “If you truly love her you can’t allow her to be as unhappy as she will inevitably be without you.”

  He chuckled. “So it’s better for her to be unhappy with me than unhappy without me?”

  “Most certainly.” She nodded firmly. “Let me ask you this. Which would you prefer?”

  He met his sister’s gaze. “I would prefer to spend the rest of my days in an unending quest to make her life as happy as possible.”

  “Excellent.” Maddy beamed.

  “Which leads us back to where we began.” He returned to his chair, sat down, and shook his head. “I still don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, you do need to think of something. Some sort of plan.” She pinned him with a firm look. “Do keep in mind, brother dear, that there has never been a divorce in the Cavendish family. Generally we just shoot our spouses.”

  He grimaced. “You’re speaking of Great-aunt Mariah now, aren’t you?”

  “Among others, although deliberately shooting one’s spouse is not to be recommended.”

  He raised a brow. “I always thought Great-uncle Charles’s death was a nasty accident.”

  “One does prefer to think of such things in the best possible light,” she said under her breath. “Now then.” Maddy met his gaze directly. “Do promise me you will not give up on Felicity regardless of how long it might take.”

  “You have my word.” He shook his head. “But—”

  “Nigel, I do realize you have never had to pursue a woman before, not seriously, that is. Don’t let the fact that you are meeting resistance stop you.”

  He considered his sister for a moment. “I should ask you to help me the way you helped her. It seems only fair.”

  “My dear Nigel.” She smiled in a smug manner. “I just did.”

  “Were you planning on spending the rest of your life with us, dear?” Felicity’s mother said brightly.

  Felicity sat beside her mother on the bed in the room she had grown up in, the room where Nigel had first come into her life, and raised a brow. “May I?”

  “This will always be your home, of course, for as long as you require it.” Mother paused. “How long will you require it?”

  Until this ache in my heart goes away, if it ever does. Felicity shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I see.” Mother thought for a moment. “Then you have nothing in mind? No plans, as it were?”

  “I really don’t have any specific plans, no.” But then had she ever? “I thought perhaps I would travel, return to the continent. Possibly Italy.”

  “I daresay your husband can’t go at this time. Mourning and all that.”

  “I hadn’t intended for him to accompany me.”

  Her mother, both her parents really, had been remarkably good about not prying into exactly why their daughter had returned on the night before her father-in-law had died. And why, although Felicity had been beside Nigel during the funeral and burial and all else that accompanied the death of a beloved family member in this day and age, she had not taken up residence at Cavendish House with her husband or returned to the house they had shared. Felicity drew a deep breath. “You should know, Mother, that my marriage was a huge mistake.”

  “Darling, every marriage is a huge mistake on occasion.” Mother patted her hand. “Especially in the beginning.”

  “I loved him for what he was. Exciting and adventurous and not the least bit dull and respectable. And then I expected him to change. It was terribly unfair of me.” She shook her head. “And terribly stupid.”

  “Stupidity is often an element when men are involved. And love.”

  “I do love him. Desperately.” Felicity heaved a heartfelt sigh. “But the only way I can make him happy is to stay far away from him.”

  “Nonsense. The man can’t possibly be happy without you.” Mother scoffed. “Why, he has sent you a note every day for a week. And you have yet to open one.”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s just being”—Felicity rolled her gaze toward the ceiling—“honorable. He prides himself on his honor. Obviously he can’t simply abandon me.”

  “Men who are merely being honorable find just one note will suffice.” Mother’s brow furrowed. “The fact that he managed to write to you at all is significant. He is going through a difficult time, you know.”

  “Of course I know.” Felicity got to her feet and paced the room. “I wish I could help him but I daresay my presence will not make things better. I am a constant reminder of a marriage he did not want. Of decisions regarding his life being taken out of his
hands.”

  “No man truly wants marriage in the beginning. They see it as an end to a carefree life of plea sure and excess.” She studied her daughter, then sighed. “Your father had no desire to marry when we met.”

  Felicity stared at her mother. “I always thought your marriage was a love match.”

  “It was in the end. But it began more as a match of”—her mother bit back a smile—“scandal. Passion, if you will.”

  Felicity’s eyes widened. “Passion?”

  “I never intended to tell you this; it did not seem a good example for a daughter, but your father was quite the rake when we first met, with a reputation every bit as tarnished as your husband’s.” Mother’s eyes twinkled. “Even more so, I would say.”

  “Father?” Felicity’s voice rose. “My father?”

  “Well, he wasn’t your father then. Then he was…” A faraway look shaded her mother’s eyes. “Adventurous and exciting and more than a bit dangerous.”

  “Father?” Felicity could barely choke out the word. “Dangerous?”

  “It was in part due to the nature of his work,” Mother said in a matter-of-fact manner.

  “His work?” Felicity could scarcely believe her ears. Her dull, ordinary father had been involved in something dangerous? “What kind of work?”

  Mother waved away the question. “It’s of no significance now and not worth mentioning.”

  “Water under the bridge?”

  Mother chuckled. “There does seem to be something of a flood there, doesn’t it?”

  “More than I have ever imagined,” Felicity murmured.

  “That spyglass of yours was his, by the way. He’s rather pleased that you have found a use for it.”

  Felicity drew her brows together. “Father was a sailor?”

  “Dear Lord, no.” Mother laughed. “Your father does not take well to being on board a ship.” She shook her head. “He has no stomach for it.”

  “I didn’t know he had ever been on a ship.” But then Felicity had had no inkling of her parents’ pasts at all until recently.

  “Your father was a gambler as well. He lost and won several small fortunes. But then, in those days”—a mischievous smile curved her mother’s lips—“so was I.”

  Felicity stared.

  “As I am making confessions of a sort, you should probably know as well our marriage was no more planned than yours, but then I suppose you suspected that when Nigel’s father made his comment about history repeating itself.”

  “I had no idea,” Felicity said in a strangled voice.

  “It’s all rather shocking for you, isn’t it, dear? I realize that, and in truth, I had never planned on telling you any of this. You were coming along so nicely too with your study of the stars and your sensible, practical way of looking at life.” Mother sighed. “And then we sent you off to see the world.”

  “And now I have disappointed you, haven’t I?” Felicity held her breath.

  “Not at all.” Her mother met her gaze firmly. “I had long expected that one day you might well burst the bonds of propriety. And frankly, darling, as scandals go, yours was really quite minor, especially when compared to m—Well, never mind. Blood will tell, you know.”

  “Will it?” Felicity said weakly.

  “It always does.” Mother paused. “Edmund Cavendish was a fine man and I have no doubt that Nigel is every bit his father’s son. You would be a fool to let him get away.”

  “I don’t want to let him get away.” Felicity wrapped her arms around herself and stared unseeing into a bleak future without the man she loved. “But I have no choice. It’s what he wants.”

  “I doubt that. The notes, remember? Regardless of what has happened between you, I would wager a great deal that what your husband really wants is you.” Mother rose to her feet. “I suggest when his note arrives today, as I have no doubt it will, you read it, respond, and agree to see him.”

  “I can’t.” Felicity shook her head. “Not yet. Not until I know what I’m going to do.”

  “What you’re going to do is allow him to apologize and beg your forgiveness.”

  “He’s done nothing to forgive.”

  Her mother raised a brow.

  “Well, he has done a few things.” She looked at her mother. “Why are you so certain he wants me back?”

  Mother chose her words with care. “Even when he was being something of a boor, I saw the way he looked at you. Only when you weren’t looking, of course. I’m not sure if he even realized it then, but a man doesn’t look at a woman like that if he truly doesn’t want her in his life. If he doesn’t love her.”

  “You think he loves me?” Felicity said slowly. Madeline had said the same thing. Still, so much had happened since then.

  “I am confident of it.”

  What if her mother was right? Hope surged within her. “Very well, then.” She lifted her chin. “When today’s note comes, I’ll answer it. And if he wishes to see me, I will meet with him.”

  “Excellent.” Mother beamed. “Things always work out the way they’re supposed to in the end, you know. That’s how fate is.”

  Felicity blew a long breath. “I do hope so.”

  She should have taken her mother’s wager. As the day wore on and slid into an endless evening, there was no note from Nigel. No communication of any kind from Cavendish House. By the time Felicity retired for the night and fell into her bed with an awful emptiness inside her, she had to face the fact that her mother was wrong. Nigel didn’t want her back. In the last moment before she succumbed to what would be yet another restless night, a thought struck her and she bolted upright in bed.

  Dear Lord, what had she been thinking? Or indeed, had she been thinking at all? Apparently not. She was making an enormous mistake.

  Leaving Nigel to make him happy might well be a noble, selfless gesture on her part but this was her life as well as his. Didn’t she deserve to be happy? Now that she thought about it rationally, and she wondered why the thought hadn’t occurred to her before now, he had certainly appeared happy in the week of their marriage, even if only in the dark of night. And their last night together, at the Treadwell ball and afterward, he had seemed positively blissful. No man was that good an actor.

  She threw off the covers, got to her feet, and paced the floor. Certainly he had been angry when he’d discovered Madeline’s role in getting them together, and admittedly that was justifiable to a certain extent, but he had said some vile things. She should be furious with him, and now that she thought about it, she was. Obviously the death of Nigel’s father had pushed her own feelings, and everything else, to the back of her mind. And today the blasted man hadn’t even sent a note! But perhaps it took that failure on his part to at last bring her to her senses.

  Enough was quite enough. The first thing in the morning, she would pack her bags and move to Cavendish House to be with her husband. She loved Nigel, and she was apparently the only one who wasn’t sure he loved her in return. If Nigel truly wanted her out of his life, he was going to have to throw her out bodily. But she certainly wasn’t going without a fight.

  Resolve swept through her, and for the first time since the night in the observatory, she felt like herself.

  Things would work in the end. They were indeed fated to be together. And, if necessary, she would spend the rest of her life making him see that.

  Whether he liked it or not.

  He didn’t like this one bit.

  Nigel drew a deep breath and stared up at the trellis that led to Felicity’s balcony. Would this be the last time he made this climb, or was he destined to cling to the side of this house periodically for the rest of his days? He could see himself at Lord Fernwood’s age, crawling slowly upward toward the balcony, cackling all the way. No, this would be the last time. Unless, of course, he had to. He heaved a resigned sigh. Indeed, if he had to climb this blasted trellis every day for the rest of his life, he would do so. After all, his wife was at the top of it.

&n
bsp; He found an all-too-familiar grip on the trellis and started upward. He could have simply pounded on the front door for entry or paid a more civilized call in the light of day, but it seemed to him a grand gesture was needed. Something adventurous and scandalous and completely improper. After his talk with Maddy he’d thought all day about exactly how to get his wife back and had hit upon the idea of a grand gesture. This might not be the smartest grand gesture, but it had a certain symmetry to it. This was how it had all begun, climbing up to her balcony under the stars, her stars, and this was where it would begin anew. Yes, he quite liked that. She would like it as well. Why, she might even be pleased to see him. He refused to consider that the possibility was every bit as great that she might push him off the balcony or threaten to shoot him. Again.

  He reached the balcony and pulled himself over the balustrade. He was actually becoming quite skilled at this. The door to her room was again cracked open. He pushed it wider, slipped into her room, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. And realized he had no idea what to do now. He certainly didn’t want to startle her. She might still sleep with that damn pistol by her bed.

  “Felicity,” he called softly.

  “I thought it was you,” Felicity’s clear voice rang from the bed. It didn’t sound at all as though she’d been asleep. Apparently she’d had little better luck sleeping these days than he’d had. The thought bolstered his courage. A moment later a match flared and she lit the lamp beside her bed. She sat upright in her bed and glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “You said exactly the same thing the last time I was here.” He smiled in as charming a manner as he could muster. Damnation, he was nervous. “You need to think of a new greeting.”

  “Very well.” She narrowed her eyes. “Get out. The way you came, if you please.”

  He ignored her and stepped toward the bed. “The last time I was here, you asked if I had come to ravish you.”

  She raised a brow. “Have you?”

  “Is it a possibility?” A hopeful note sounded in his voice.

  She snorted.