by Jo Beverley
"Strange, but I felt a bit of disappointment, too. Sure and it would be a fine child that came out of that wild loving."
He tilted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Then we'll just have to be as wild when the time comes. I'm sure we can manage that."
A shudder of pure need went through her, and she hugged him close. "And that is certainly the holy truth."
Chapter 23
And then matters rushed together with terrifying speed.
The groom from Cheltenham pounded up the frozen drive on a lathered horse with the news that the coachman hired for that springtime drive four years before had been Mrs. Stafford's second cousin, which is how she happened to know he'd moved to London to work for a livery stable there.
No, added the report from Mr. Scrope, the man had said nothing of anything strange about that day, but he was of a taciturn nature—one who believed in minding his own business.
"Strange," said Miles. "I'd have thought Dunsmore would do something about the man. Perhaps he bribed him to silence."
Felicity smiled wryly. "More likely he ignored him as if he didn't exist. A fine disdainful attitude to servants, has Rupert Dunsmore, and it's caused him trouble before."
"Then it looks as if we should go to London and find this Sam Greenwood so as to cause him even more trouble."
"But what of Rupert?"
"When he hears you're gone, he'll follow. I admit it won't be as easy to keep track of him in London, but we can always depend on him finding you."
"Now, why do I feel like a goat pegged out for a lion?"
Miles burst out laughing. "Pity the poor lion who thought you easy prey!"
Later that day, they received a letter from Francis rather tersely informing them of his marriage to Serena, Lady Riverton, and his intention to visit London for some weeks with his new bride.
Lucien whistled. "Now there's a turn-up. But I detect a silent plea." He looked over at Beth. "Would it be a terrible sacrifice for you to remove to London for a while?"
"Go to Town!" Beth gasped, hand to chest. "Go where there are libraries, theaters, museums.... Leave behind this land of horse and hound! How can you suggest such a thing?"
Blanche was already on her feet, eyes shining. "I'll order our bags packed."
Miles looked at Felicity. "And what of you? Will it be a relief to you, too?"
"It will be a blessed relief to be doing something."
* * *
They traveled in a parade of vehicles—Lucien and Hal in one curricle, Con and Miles in another, and the ladies and cat in Miles's coach. A small force of servants went ahead to smooth their way. Since there was a sharp frost and even some snow in the air, Felicity was pleased enough to be inside with rugs and hot bricks to keep her comfortable. She was even more grateful to find the inns always ready to receive them with every comfort.
It did rather forcibly contrast with her last journey.
Before leaving, she'd slipped out to the stables and given Josh a message for Rupert, saying where she was being taken and that he must rescue her in London. She hoped he was hot on their heels now. As soon as they had this coachman's evidence, it would be done.
The party arrived in London in the afternoon of the second day, dropped off Blanche and Hal at her pretty house, then rolled on to Belcraven House, the magnificent ducal mansion on Marlborough Square that Lucien referred to as "the Palace."
In the casual atmosphere of Vauxhall, it had been easy to forget that Lucien was of high estate. When she mounted the wide steps up to glossy double doors and entered a magnificent marble hall, Felicity was forcibly reminded.
Top-lofty servants positively swarmed around them to see to their every need. Within minutes, she found herself in a splendid room with Chinese wallpaper, silk hangings, and everything made ready for her comfort.
She changed, then joined Beth for tea in her lovely boudoir containing many shelves of books.
"Have you read them all?" Felicity asked, wandering the rows.
"At least dipped into them all. Do you not like to read?"
"Not a great deal. I prefer to be active. When this is over, I'm going back to Ireland, pulling on my breeches, and riding from dawn to dusk."
When this is over... Felicity realized that was the first firmly optimistic statement she'd made. Was she at last beginning to hope?
And was it wise?
Beth poured tea and offered cake. "Lucien and Miles have already gone out to track down this Sam Greenwood, so by this evening it could all be over bar the shouting."
Felicity clutched her saucer rather tightly. "I do hope so. Except, of course, that then I'll have to assume my role of tethered goat. I really don't ever want to see the man again."
"The Rogues will look after you." Beth then turned the conversation to fashion but, being Beth, she engaged in a discussion of the effects of fashion on women's status in society.
Despite her anxieties, Felicity was intrigued and hardly noticed the passing of time before Miles arrived with news.
"We've got him," he declared.
"Got him!" Felicity leaped to her feet, almost knocking over a small table.
He caught her hands. "Simmer down. I don't mean we have Dunsmore in our grasp." He settled her on the sofa and sat beside her. "Greenwood told his story readily enough, though, when we convinced him he'd been witness to an illegality. He might be taciturn, but it's a reflection of a firm morality."
He chose a piece of fruit cake. "He'll go into any court and swear that the Dunsmores went into the cottage and came out with a baby, that he then transported them home without break or incident. He was told, and believed, that she'd unexpectedly given birth there. He did volunteer that he'd thought at the time that she was a surprisingly tough woman to be quite so chipper after such an event."
"So," said Felicity, hope coming to full flower, "all we need now is to confront Rupert with our evidence. But he'll never get to me here! I have to go out..."
Miles captured her to stop her from leaping to her feet again. "Faith, my favorite volcano, rest still a moment! We'll let him find you, true enough, but in our own good time and with safeguards. It would be foolish, indeed, to let him snatch you away at this point in the game."
Felicity surrendered into his arms. It was going to be all right. Perhaps she would be allowed to enjoy Miles's love and tenderness forever. Small doubts still niggled, however. "I hope Rupert has the sense to accept defeat. He is like a weasel, you know. Cornered, he becomes mindlessly vicious."
"We'll keep an eye on him until the rage passes. Men like that can't hold their purpose long."
She was going to argue the point, but Beth asked, "Where's Lucien?"
"Detoured to Francis's house, hoping to speak to him."
"Oh, good. I told him to see if Francis and Serena could dine here tonight. I think we'll be busy trying to establish her in Society. If we're to gallivant all over London in that cause, Felicity, it should give the weaselly one adequate access to you."
Feeling, in truth, like the goat staked out for the predator, Felicity snuggled deeper into Miles's arms. She decided she could come to like being guarded and protected if she could ever quite trust in it.
* * *
As planned, the Middlethorpes came to dinner that night. Francis's mysterious lady turned out to be beautiful but clearly living on the edge of her nerves. Felicity wondered how one who had presumably achieved her aim and married the man of her choice could appear so ill-at-ease. But then she discovered that Serena Riverton's first husband had been a scandalous wretch, so she was terrified that Society would shun her.
Beth would be better at handling that than Felicity, so when it came time for the ladies to leave the dinner table, Felicity flashed Beth a wink and stayed behind. The men didn't seem to mind, and a half-hour talking horses did wonders for Felicity's nerves, too.
By the time they went upstairs to the drawing room, Serena was calmer and Beth was already planning an assault on Society. The plan was
to drown the scandal of Serena's unfortunate first marriage in Roguish influence.
"For we can command an astonishing degree of reflected glory," she said. "Dukes, marquesses, earls, and—more importantly—their female relatives. In the midst of all this," she added to Felicity, "if your pet weasel can't find you, he's hardly worth our trouble at all."
* * *
The next day, all obvious guard on Felicity was dropped, though Miles never let her out of his sight. In the morning, she walked out with a maid and footman to visit some local shops. She purchased soap, two pairs of silk stockings, and a jet clip she thought would suit her drake's-feather aigrette.
No one tried to contact her.
When she returned to the house, she shed her attendants and strolled around the ducal gardens, even wandering out into the mews.
Again, nothing.
The old fears returned. What if Rupert had lost patience and returned to Ireland to seize Kieran? She knew Miles had sent a warning to his mother, but was it possible for even Lady Aideen and the Earl of Kilgoran to hold the boy against the law?
In the afternoon, she circled Marlborough Square alone for an hour, hoping against hope for news.
By the time evening came, and with it a planned trip to the theater to show off Serena in elevated company, Felicity was desperate. She was almost ready to run through the streets of London waving a sign saying, "Rupert Dunsmore, come to me!"
Miles took one look at her in her second-best silk and ragged nerves and dragged her into the nearest private room. "What is it?"
"Nothing! That's what it is. A frightful amount of nothing! I can't bear it."
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "Dunsmore is bound to be a bit slower in getting here."
"What if he's gone to Ireland? Devil take it, Miles, it's what I'd do in his case. Seize Kieran, secrete him away somewhere, then wait in hiding for me to come of age."
"He's not as intelligent as you, and I don't think he has a patient nature. I'm sure those men after him don't. And, believe me, he isn't enough of a man to get your son out of Kilgoran Castle."
She hung onto him. "I'm trying to believe. I am." Then she looked over his shoulder. "Faith, do you know what room we're in?"
He relaxed his hold to look, then groaned when he saw the billiard table. "My failing willpower doesn't need this."
"Perhaps it's the scent of baize and chalk..." She slid a hand up to his cheek. "We're going to win. You believe that, don't you? In a few weeks, we can be married. So, why not...?"
He swung her around so she faced away from him, but was still held against him with strong arms. "Stop tempting me." But his voice faded and his lips brushed the back of her neck. She shivered and an ache began.
"Miles, I need you so."
His arms tightened, and he rocked her slightly. "Not near as much as I need you."
Swaying with him in an entrancing rhythm, she clutched his arms. "Would you like to take odds on that?"
He pushed against her back, and she felt him, long and hard.
She laughed shakily. "You'll have to explore a bit to find my evidence, but it's there, I tell you true."
His shudder ran straight through into her. "No," he said. "We are going to wait." And she could tell from the control he'd imposed on his voice that he meant it.
She turned, almost ripping through his embrace, though he did not let her go. "You know I'm no good at waiting!"
"And you know you could tempt me into hell's fires." He rested his head against hers, quieting her. "But no, Felicity. No. We have a lifetime. I believe that. If we weaken now on this, I'll shatter. I'll be quite useless to you in what needs to be done."
She heard the truth in him and made it into strength for herself. If need be, she'd protect him from her own impatient passion. She stepped out of his arms and smoothed her dress. "Very well, then. I'm cool again."
"Oh, fortunate creature..."
She choked back laughter and achieved a level tone. "I'll believe you about Kilgoran, and Kieran's safety is the only thing that really matters." Then she gasped, "I didn't mean that!"
"Yes, you did, and it's all right." His smile was a masterpiece. He even found the strength to take her hand. "Your son must come first, for he is weak and defenseless and has no one else. I feel much the same way. Oh, not because I feel as you do for Kieran—yet—but because my love of you is as deep as yours of him."
She squeezed his hand, slowly filling with a sense of delight and wonder. "If only we can all be together, we are going to be the happiest people on earth."
His smile widened into a grin. "Barring a few fights now and then, my warrior-queen. But you'll make a fine, fierce mother to my children." He took her other hand. "You've danced me a merry dance over this, but don't ever think I like you less for it. If you could relax your care of your son for love of me, how could I ever trust you to truly care for our children?"
She raised his hands and kissed them. "And your care of me—damnable though it's been at times—shows me you'll be a wonderful father. And I know you're a wonderful lover—"
"Shush!" He turned their hands and kissed hers back, a warm, sensual devotion that nearly broke her.
Perhaps he knew, for he led her from the tempting room. They only let their loving hands slip apart when they entered the hall where guests were already arriving. With the best will in the world, they could not stop their eyes from meeting, kissing, promising, loving throughout the long meal.
After dinner, the party left for Drury Lane where most of them were accommodated in the Duke of Belcraven's box. Felicity and Miles, however, sat with some others in the boisterous pit, where it was much more likely that Dunsmore could make contact.
It also meant that Miles and Felicity were squeezed tightly side by side on a bench, which continually strained their overstretched willpower.
What with that and waiting for contact with Dunsmore, the play could have been a tedious sermon as far as Felicity was concerned, though the people around her clearly enjoyed it.
During the intermissions, she and Miles strolled about. At one point, Miles deliberately left her unattended. Even though she knew he was watching, Felicity hated the leering looks of nearby men. Some even passed close to whisper salacious invitations. Her life at Foy had not prepared her for this, and she grew very angry that they would think some poor, unescorted female fair sport.
One man even stole a kiss. Felicity was on the point of doing him a serious injury when Miles dragged him off and pointed out the error of his ways.
"Faith, but London is a wretched place," Felicity said, trying to scrub an oniony taste from her mouth. "And if you were a proper knight in shining armor, you'd have drawn his cork."
"It would only have started a brawl," Miles said, touching her gently in comfort. "These theater crowds are always just a spark away from riot. And anyway, we may be watched. If not for that, I'd kiss away all trace of that scullion's attentions."
It was almost like a fierce kiss in the effect it had on her. "You could have called him out. Being my guardian gives you that right."
"Simmer down, you wild woman. He was a bit beneath my touch."
"But not beneath mine?"
"Then you call him out."
She scowled after her assailant. "I'm very tempted."
Miles laughed. "Swords, pistols, or fists, I'd bet on you."
As he settled her back on their bench, he murmured, "Nothing, I suppose."
"No. I'm telling myself he hasn't made his way to London yet, though what the devil could be delaying him, I don't know. Oh, Miles, I want this over!"
"No more than I do, mo chroi."
The farce was a huge success, judging from the roars of laughter around her, but Felicity was hard put to even smile.
By the time they were leaving the theater, caught in the usual crush of people near the door, she felt close to tears.
Why couldn't they be like normal lovers, able to show their feelings and enjoy their happin
ess? Now it was within sight, within touch, within smell like a steaming pie in a baker's shop, it was agony to do without.
Miles had his arm around her to protect her from the jostling of the crowd, and she snatched what pleasure she could from it despite the sweaty crush. She envied the people in the boxes who had their own exit.
She was hopping because a heavy boot had trampled her toes when a group of brandy-soaked young men decided to charge through the packed doorway. In the shouting, screaming melee that followed, Felicity and Miles were torn apart and she ended up squeezed against a wall, her bonnet half torn off.
Seeing very real danger, Felicity let the crowd grind past her. In moments, however, the pressure grew and screams warned of people being hurt. She began to sidle back toward the relative safety of the auditorium.
Then an arm snuck around her waist and helped her. Miles. Thank God! But when she was free, she found she was in the grasp of Rupert Dunsmore.
"At last," he snarled, pulling her further away from the blocked doorway.
She had little choice but to follow, and she'd wanted this meeting anyway. She'd expected, however, to have Miles close by. A quick glance showed he was nowhere in sight.
Rupert found a quiet corner and confronted her. "I can hardly say you've been your usual resourceful self, Felicity. I've you to thank for this."
He gestured to his face, and she saw with a gasp that he had a badly blackened eye, a swollen lip, and possibly a broken nose.
"What happened?"
"I thought those Irish peasants were bad enough, but moneylenders..." Suddenly, he smiled, a smile twisted by his injured lip. "All those problems are over now, though, aren't they? This way."
He pushed her toward the stage.
Felicity looked around frantically for help. "Where are we going?"
"Behind the stage. I've bribed one of the servants here. I didn't expect it to be quite so easy to separate you from your guardian, but fate must be on our side. Fate and a few coins to those rowdy young men."
At the plain door by the side of the stage, he flashed her a black look. "I hope you're not going to turn foolish again. Do I have to remind you what will happen to my brat if you do? He'll get a beating at least as bad as this, if not worse. The doctor said I came near to losing an eye. It'd be sad to see the child blind, wouldn't it?"