by Heather Boyd
At least with Ellicott there would be no disappointments. Their discussion had freed her from guilt and allowed her to do what she wanted with whomever pleased her as long as she remembered to be more careful next time. She jumped from the bed, pushing down her gown. “I am sorry that I disturbed your evening.”
He stalked to the window to stand in the cool breeze and said nothing at first. But then he turned around, eyes blazing. “When you were mine, I would never have shared you,” he told her bluntly.
“I was never really yours.” She rubbed the sudden chill on her arms. “You bargained with my father for my hand and command of the Selfridge. You never gave what you did to me a second thought.”
“I thought of you,” he insisted. “Too damned much.”
“Well, not enough to bother to say good-bye or write to apologize for the fool you made of me,” she snapped angrily.
“Never admit fault,” he ground out. “Is that not what you always said you admired in a man? Someone who owned his decisions?”
He ran both hands through his hair roughly, forcing the dark strands to all angles. After a moment he shook his head and gestured to the door. “You got what you came for, my lady. Please be so kind as to let the door smack your pretty backside as you leave.”
“Fine,” she snapped again. With as much dignity as she could muster, Sally swept from the room and into the hall. She stood in the dark, shaking with frustration and confusion. How could it feel so right to be in his arms and the next moment argue about it? How dare he use the Ford family motto against her too? He was not one of them.
She scowled at the door behind her. “You will be sorry.”
“I already am,” he replied bitterly from the other side before locking the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Sally took a breath, startled by Felix’s admission, and then decided he could not have meant it. He did not really understand her and would say anything to advance his own cause. Love to him was something he could put aside until he needed it again.
Furious with herself for lingering, she stalked away. A short walk before bed might be required to quiet her temper, and she was very used to navigating Newberry’s twisting corridors in utter darkness.
But the walk through deserted, familiar halls did not help very much. She was still too full of salt and vinegar to shake off her irritation with Felix. In desperation, Sally slipped into her sister’s room as she often did late at night when Louisa was abed, hoping she was awake and in the mood to talk. Unfortunately, Louisa’s soft, even breathing suggested she slept deeply. Disappointed to be denied her good and calming presence, she lay down on the long chaise and stared at the painting of Lord Cameron’s neighboring estate that hung above Louisa’s hearth.
When she grew chilled, she tossed a blanket over herself.
Louisa stirred in her bed. “I thought you would already be fast asleep.”
“I was not sleepy after all,” Sally explained. “I have been prowling the house for an hour. I did not want to wake you, but who knows when I will be able to slip into your room again.”
“I will miss these nighttime visits of yours. When you marry Ellicott I will hardly see you, so do not ruin it by snoring.” Louisa adjusted the pillow under her head. “We have a lot to do before the wedding takes you away, and I need my beauty sleep.”
“I do not snore,” Sally protested and clutched the blanket to her breasts. “And you are always beautiful regardless of how much sleep you have had.”
“What do you think of Captain Hastings now?”
“He seems unchanged,” Sally grumbled, but her heart was thumping wildly at the question. “Why do you ask?”
“Mama is still very taken with him, and he is handsome. She thought he might do for Victoria since you do not want him anymore.”
Sally ground her teeth. “He is a career man, like so many others in the navy. I would not wish to have Victoria’s heart broken when he leaves her behind.”
“Perhaps he could grow to love her enough to resign his commission. Mama believes he has funds enough to make Uncle George accept the match despite your past with him.”
Sally had once dreamed Felix would give up everything for her love, but such a dream could never come true. “Go to sleep and stop matchmaking. Victoria will find her own husband, someone other than Felix, when the time is right.”
“Well, even fate needs a push now and then.” Louisa sighed. “Lady Duckworth enquired about him as well, which I thought was odd.”
Sally sat up quickly. “What did she ask?”
“She wanted my assurance that his bedchamber was far from yours,” Louisa grumbled. “I told her Grandfather would not stand for any sort of nonsense under his roof and neither would you.”
Sally pressed her hand over her face as her cheeks heated. She and Felix were good at every sort of nonsense. Things Louisa did not yet need to understand. “Certainly not.”
Louisa fell quiet once more, but Sally was wide awake, watching in total shame as the moonlight cast shadows upon the walls. Thoughts of the changes to come brought no end to her confusion. There was so much she still had to do before she could leave for her new life. The wedding breakfast might be called a small affair, and yet she expected all the neighborhood, tenants and local aristocracy, to come to celebrate with the family.
Thoughts of Felix and her behavior with him worried her more though. Could she learn to desire Ellicott the way she did Felix?
She certainly had to if she wanted to recover her dignity.
~ * ~
Felix pulled at his cravat to gain some air but to no avail. The duke kept his private study damned hot, and on top of the accursed fever that was building again, he could not concentrate on the conversation. He wished to escape the heat and the endless questions. A cooling ocean breeze was just the thing to help on such a day. Perhaps even a dunking in the nearby sea to cool his body and clear his mind. However, Sally’s aunt Penelope was taking notes today with a diligence usually reserved for a court-martial, so he sat and did his best to be cordial.
“Tell me more about the day William was wounded. I understand you took an injury to the leg during the skirmish. The left leg, was not it?”
The duke was uncomfortably well informed. He brushed over the spot. “Yes. A flesh wound that has long since healed. A piece of the ship splintered during cannon fire from the enemy, and I was in the way as so often happens.”
“And Laurence was injured in that skirmish too,” the duke said. “Explain how that happened.”
“A minor cut to his sword arm,” he murmured, wishing the duke would make him stop reliving battles in so much detail. “A few of the enemy boarded the Selfridge, and he and his men had to defend the ship. He made a full recovery.”
At night when he was alone, he could not banish the deaths of his enemy to allow for peaceful sleep. Sometimes not even the memory of Sally could banish them from his waking thoughts.
He had not slept after Sally had left his bed last night. He had been too full of her, too distracted by her passionate response, to settle down for the night. Her ridiculous arrangement with Ellicott infuriated him and remained a source of discomfort even now. Men in love did not willingly share their wives. Felix might have had the opportunity to keep Sally with him till dawn, but the idea that he would have done so with Ellicott’s blessing made him ill.
“Yes, so I understand.” The duke pursed his lips. “The injury to your leg, was it received before or after William’s wounding?”
“Before we had truly engaged.” He grimaced as he rubbed his leg, remembering how it had dragged toward the end of the engagement. His boot had filled with blood and his thigh had burned with sensation. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I barely noticed it at the time, which is often the way of things during battle.”
The duke sat forward, peering hard at him. “Is something the matter, Captain?”
“No.” Felix was only burning from the inside out. He had hope
d to hide his affliction, an irregularly recurring fever he could not be cured of, but it seemed the damned fever could not be stopped or delayed enough to protect his career. There would be ample witnesses this time round unless it passed quickly—which it rarely did. There would be no hiding it unless he could get away. Once found out, the duke would tell Admiral Templeton, and then Felix would lose command of the Selfridge. After that, his fall from favor was inevitable. Rutherford would withdraw his support, and then he would be like Captain Jennings, a man with a limited future.
“You appear flushed.” The duke peered at him. “Do you find talk of war uncomfortable?”
He blinked when Rutherford’s image split into two hazy shapes, a warning of what was to come. He was about to lose control of his senses in the worst possible place. “No, of course not. If there is nothing else?”
A door opened behind him. “Luncheon is ready, my lord.”
“Ah, excellent. Shall we join the family?” The duke spoke to his daughter, and when she rose, so did Felix. However, with the fever climbing and the inevitable peak soon to follow, his balance was decidedly unsteady, and he intended to cry off from this meal.
He reached for the back of the nearest chair and stood a moment in silence while he got his bearings. Unfortunately, the world continued to tip and sway.
As if through a long tunnel, a woman’s voice called his name. “Captain Hastings?”
“Felix!” The duke’s voice was nothing more than a wavering bark until the floor pitched and hit him.
Chapter Seventeen
Felix was gone.
Sally had not caught sight of him all day even though he had been closeted with her grandfather since daybreak. Not that she was looking for him precisely, but knowing he was around made her unaccountably anxious that their paths not cross again. They would only argue, and she did not want that.
“Why so great a sigh?” Louisa asked as she took stock of the contents of the preserves pantry.
Sally glanced toward the doorway that led upstairs to the entrance hall. This area of the servant’s quarters was quiet for the moment. Most of the staff were gathered about the housekeepers door, discussing the needs of tonight’s dinner. “It is nothing.”
Her sister frowned and shifted bottles to see into the darkness of each shelf. “Are you impatient to see him?”
She snapped her head around. “Who?”
“Lord Ellicott, silly.” Louisa made a note on her papers. “Who else could I have meant?”
Who else indeed? She hadn’t thought of Ellicott all day. Upon her return from her duties on the estate, Sally had expected to dodge Felix, but avoidance had not been necessary. “Are you done?”
“Almost,” Louisa murmured, shuffling the sheets and checking each one. “I just need to run this list up to Mother and see what she has to say. We are running a little short of everything. The harvest has been slow to come in because we lack enough manpower.”
Sally bit her lip. “I should have helped.”
“You had guests to entertain,” Louisa reminded her gently with a touch to her hand. “And I would say catching a husband is more important than filling a basket with fruits. You do not have to help with everything you know.”
“I know, but I like to.” She hugged her sister quickly. “Well, do not let me hold you up. Mama will be waiting, and you know how impatient she can be to see us.”
“True.” Louisa tilted her head to one side, her expression puzzled. “Are you sure you are all right today? You seem a bit lost.”
“It is just nerves about the wedding.”
“And the wedding night.” Louisa laughed and then hurried out before she could be scolded for teasing her.
Sally was not worried about her wedding night, or any of the nights of her marriage. She knew full well what could happen between a man and a woman. But she was thinking a lot about her life and what she would miss when she left Newberry as a bride. There were ten women at Newberry, and they somehow managed never to get in each other’s way. Everyone pulled together. Would she eventually work that well with Lady Ellicott?
Sally made her way to the main staircase, lost in thought, and ascended to the entrance hall. The house was quiet for this time of day, and she prowled the ground floor rooms restlessly, discreetly searching for the captain while also keeping her eye out for her aunt or grandfather who had disappeared too. Aunt Pen had been taking notes for the duke today while Sally dealt with a stock issue. She needed to mention the outcome to either of them so they were not surprised by her decisions.
Mr. Morgan was not at his post, and the other servants she questioned had no idea where the butler had gone. Felix had not been in the library or the drawing room with Lady Ellicott and Sally’s remaining family. Her grandfather’s study door was open, and the captain was not there either, seated before the large table talking war with the duke.
There was only one conclusion she could reach: he’d left her.
Had he taken up Arianna’s invitation to visit her at Lofton Downs, or had he gone away entirely thanks to their argument? He had claimed to have no desire to see Arianna again, but she could not help but feel after last night that she might have driven him away.
Jealousy, a feeling she hated, seethed beneath her skin at the very idea of another woman touching him, especially Arianna.
She took the west staircase, ascended to the first floor, and slowly approached his bedchamber. If he had gone for good, she wanted to know immediately. The last time, after she had broken off the engagement, he had left England and she had not known for two whole days. She might have been the one to have stopped their wedding, but he had not even tried to win her back. The crushing pain of abandonment was a feeling she never wanted to experience again.
After checking that she was unobserved, she tapped on his door, then tested the handle. Unlocked. Sally let herself inside and glanced around, expecting the worst and finding it.
His possessions were gone, his bed stripped, and the hearth cold.
So he had gone without saying good-bye again.
Sally took a long moment to accept it, to acknowledge the end of a young woman’s dream of love and desire.
She should be relieved that the temptation of him was gone, but instead the hollow ache of loss, a feeling she was all too familiar with when it came to Felix, returned to pain her. After all this time, she still was not immune to foolishness.
She still cared about Felix, and far too deeply.
She glanced around once more, her gaze lingering on the bed. Memories might be all she could ever have with him, but they were good memories for the most part. Passionate ones. When she married Ellicott, she would devote herself to feeling that way about her husband instead. After all, many women loved more than once in their lifetime.
Sally slipped from the room and pulled the door shut quietly behind her. She was filled with sadness, but had she ever expected better where he was concerned?
A few paces down the hall, she spotted her aunt disappearing into a distant guest room. In need of a distraction, she headed in that direction to see if her aunt needed assistance for anything at all. Keeping busy had always been good for mending her soul, and with a wedding ahead there was much yet to do.
The door had been left slightly ajar. Other voices talking low joined with Aunt Pen’s and drifted into the hall. Sally leaned close to listen before blundering inside and interrupting.
“He seems no better or worse,” Aunt Penelope said.
“Why did you move him?” her grandfather asked.
“I did not dare take any chances,” Aunt Pen replied. “There was no hint of fever on his arrival, but I thought it prudent to have him moved in case it is a serious illness that might spread.”
“This is unfortunate,” the duke said. “Find out who he has had most contact with and keep a discreet eye on them for signs of similar symptoms.”
“If only we knew what they were. He collapsed so suddenly,” her aunt said. “Besides o
urselves, my nieces have all stood close to him. Maggie partnered with him at dinner and a valet attended to him morning and night. They could all be at risk.”
“He visited William before arriving here too. Send a warning to the nurse to keep a close watch on William’s health in the coming weeks and specifically to watch for signs of a fever. His health is still much too delicate to fight off another infection.”
“I have already done so,” Aunt Pen promised.
The duke thumped his canes on the carpeted rugs inside the room. “Damn it all, I wanted to see what he has made of himself, not bury him. Something must be done.”
A throat cleared and Mr. Morgan spoke. “There was a gentleman with him in the carriage on the day of his arrival, Your Grace. The man went on to the inn and intended to remain there, I believe. Could he know the nature and perhaps a cure for this illness?”
“Bring him, by whatever means necessary,” the duke demanded. “We must know what we are dealing with and be prepared to contain the spread.”
“I am so sorry I could not be more help, Your Grace. No further cases of high fever have been reported so far. However, without particulars from the patient, I am at a loss of what to recommend in this instance. We might have no choice but to wait and see if the captain recovers on his own,” Doctor Hobbits advised in a voice devoid of hope.
Sally pushed her way inside the room.
Felix lay on the bed around which they were gathered and was as still as the grave. Her grandfather, aunt, and the doctor and butler observed him, looking as if Felix was about to die.
If not for hearing their remarks, she might have thought him dead too on first glance. But on closer inspection, Felix was so drenched in sweat that his shirt was limp and stuck to his skin. His lips were parted and pale, but it was the shallow quality of his breathing that sent gooseflesh rushing over her skin.