by Cheryl Bolen
Felicity checked her rising temper. “But you see,” she said calmly, “it matters not to me if I am considered beautiful. I have loved and been loved. Now, it is your turn, my sweet.”
The chamber door creaked open, and Lettie poked her head in. “Oh, here ye are, Mrs. Harrison. Stanton’s been looking for you. A gentleman has requested to see you privately.” She crossed the carpet and handed Felicity a card. A gentleman’s card.
Felicity read it: Thomas Moreland of Winston Hall.
The nabob! “But I do not know the gentleman,” Felicity told her abigail, then directed herself to her sister. “It’s the new owner of Winston Hall.”
“It would be most unseemly to refuse to meet him,” Glee said.
Felicity removed herself from the edge of Glee’s bed, cast a glance into the looking glass on the opposite wall, and strolled toward the door. “Very well.”
* * *
His back was to her when she entered the drawing room. He was a large man. Not fat but very tall. She noticed his broad shoulders tunneling down to a trim waist. She noticed, too, the excellent quality of his superfine coat and the breeches that molded to his muscled legs. His hair was black, and when he turned to face her, she saw that his skin was bronzed by the sun, no doubt from the warm climate of India. And he was handsome. Not at all the picture she held of corpulent, bejeweled nabobs. Were he ugly or old or young she would have greeted him with kindness. But this man’s handsomeness froze Felicity, leaving her self-conscious and stiff. Must he glare at her with those somber black eyes? Despite that a hint of sadness swept across his face, she could not feel sorry for him. His very stance bespoke power and pride.
She resolved to give tit for tat.
“I am Felicity Harrison,” she said. “We have not been introduced to each other before, have we, Mr. Moreland?” Her voice was wrapped in haughtiness. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she was sure she had never before met a Mr. Thomas Moreland.
He walked toward her and bowed. “No, I’ve not been introduced to you, but I know much about you. I have come today to make a business proposal to you.”
She moved toward the door. “All business matters are handled by my solicitor. His name is—”
“Malcolm Fortesque.”
She stiffened and her blue eyes rounded. “You have talked with Mr. Fortesque?”
“The matter I wish to discuss, while a business proposition, is of a private nature. Between you and me.”
She still had not asked him to sit. “I cannot enter into business with a person I don’t know.”
“I propose to rectify that situation, Mrs. Harrison.”
She stepped backward. “Perhaps you are ready, sir, but I assure you, I am not!”
He pulled from his coat a stack of small papers and moved toward her. “I have settled these vouchers of your brother’s in the amount of four thousand pounds. May we talk?” His dark gaze, solemn and intent, caught hers, and quite oddly she was unable to look away. Her heart drummed madly. She was thankful when his gaze shifted to the sofa.
“Have a seat, Mr. Moreland,” a stunned Felicity said in a shaky voice.
He sat on one side of the sofa, clearly intending her to sit on the other side.
Felicity settled in a chair facing him. Why had the impertinent man taken the liberty of settling her brother’s debts? “What do you want for the vouchers?”
He handed them to her. “They are yours.”
She reached across the distance separating them and took the papers with a trembling hand, her eyes never leaving his. “How may I repay your generosity?” All manner of sordid thoughts popped into her head.
“You have something I want, and I have something you want.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “Pray, enlighten me, Mr. Moreland.”
“I am a very wealthy man, Mrs. Harrison. I can settle all your brother’s debts and your father’s debts, and settle an annuity on you, your brother, and your sister.”
It was the answer to her prayers. But like a foul head after a night of indulging spirits or an unwanted babe following a romp in the hay, such pleasures could come at great cost. Did the man want Hornsby Manor? It was not hers to give. “What could I possibly offer that would be worth such an enormous sum?”
He stretched out his long legs on the Oriental carpet. “As you must be aware, I am not of noble birth. I’m not ashamed of what I am. In fact, I’m rather proud that I’ve risen to where I am by virtue of my own cunning and hard work. I don’t care if I’m accepted into your world, Mrs. Harrison. But I do desire that my sister enter into an alliance more fortunate than her birth recommends. Dianna—being ten years younger than I—has been raised with the privilege my money can purchase. She has gone to the best schools. Her clothes are the finest London mantua makers have to offer. She has had the best drawing masters and dancing masters and music teachers. She is nineteen now, and none of the men in our own class are her equal.”
Felicity’s back bristled. “I hardly see what I can do about that.”
“You, Mrs. Harrison, are one of the most respected matrons in Bath. I don’t purport to launch Dianna in London, but I think—with your help—we can assure her success here in Bath.”
“Then you want me to introduce her into society here?”
He nodded gravely, his black eyes searching hers. “Unfortunately, I am part of the package, for I would have to accompany my sister.”
“Do I understand you correctly, Mr. Moreland? You want me to bring you and your sister into my circle. Eat at each other’s houses, accompany each other at assemblies and musicales and strolls through town?”
“You understand correctly, Mrs. Harrison.”
She bit at her lip and avoided his pensive eyes. It sounded too easy.
“I won’t make you give me your answer until you’ve met Dianna. You must see for yourself that she will not be an embarrassment. I propose that you and your family dine at Winston Hall tonight. Then you can see for yourself if you think my sister and I will be able to manage in the ton.” He got to his feet. “My carriage will call for you at seven.” Hat in hand, he strolled to the door and left the room.
The odious man had not even waited for her answer. What audacity! He even knew they did not own a carriage. He had underhandedly spied on her, and she disliked him excessively.
He rode his phaeton the three miles back to Winston Hall, surprised he had not seized her in his arms when he beheld her. For her blond beauty shone as brightly as it had in the dim carriage six years ago. He had thought if he could just see her once again—hear her sweet voice—his thirst for her might slake. Perhaps she wasn’t as beautiful as he remembered. But, if anything, she was even lovelier in the glare of sunlight with her smooth golden skin and flawless face. Her voice was the same yet different. But, then, one did not speak to an arrogant mogul as one would to a dying youth. She had been kind beyond belief that night; today she was proud and—something else—bitter? defeated?
She was smaller than he had thought. The tip of her golden head barely came to his shoulders. He wondered what it would feel like to have her smoothly curved body molded into his own, what it would feel like to enclose her slimness in his arms. The thought evoked an immediate physical response that surged through him to settle in his groin.
Underlying his powerful reaction to her was the disappointing observation that she still wore black for her long-dead husband. How could he ever compete with the dashing Captain Michael Harrison? He had met the man just once. The time he had taken Thomas from the surgeon’s to procure him passage on a clipper to India. At her request, the captain had arranged for Thomas to work for his passage, preparing food from a seat in the galley, for Thomas had not been able to put weight on his legs for another month. Captain Harrison had been all that was gentlemanly. Not only was he the second son of an earl, but he was also as fine looking a man as Thomas had ever seen. With bittersweet regret, he pictured the manly officer with cultured voice and read
y smile. And impossibly broad shoulders and a tall, powerful frame. Damn him.
Since becoming wealthy, Thomas had learned everything he could about Felicity Harrison right down to the name of the tenants of Hornsby Manor.
He had not precisely lied when Felicity asked if she’d ever been introduced before. For he had not told her his name that night on the dark country road. And it was obvious now she had forgotten the wretched man whose life she had saved on a winter night six years previously.
With bitter realization he knew that capturing Felicity Harrison’s long-buried heart was going to be the most difficult challenge he had ever faced. Learning the customs and language of a faraway nation had been much easier. He had studied the Hindi language from the age of fifteen and had mastered it while he lived among the dark-skinned people. He had learned their ways and got far better prices for their sought-after goods than the rich nabobs who cooled themselves in the lavish palaces they had erected in India.
But chiseling through Felicity’s icy heart might prove impossible. For she had changed greatly. Six years ago, she did not care about rank. She wanted only to save a man. It had not mattered that he was not a gentleman. But now . . .
He looked off into the gently sloping hills. Now, she was different.
For the second time that day, Felicity entered her brother’s chamber.
His valet had just removed his coat. “You will be most happy to learn that I got a hundred guineas for my mount.”
“That is very good, I am sure,” Felicity said distractedly. “But I must talk to you in private. Let us go to the library.”
“What have I done now?” he questioned, following his sister from the room.
“This time, nothing.”
She closed the library door and instructed her brother to take a seat. She sat on a settee beside him.
“Why all the secrecy?” he asked.
“There is something of a very private nature I wish to discuss with you.”
“You’re not marrying Gordon! Upon my word, I didn’t mean for you to sacrifice—”
“I’m not marrying Colonel Gordon.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “You ain’t planning to shackle me, are you?”
She smiled, and her dimples seemed to light up the darkened room. “I’m not planning to shackle you, either.”
“Then what in God’s name?”
“I received a most unusual proposal today.”
His ears perked. “A proposal?”
“Yes. You’ve heard of the nabob who bought Winston Hall?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes narrow.
“Well, he came here today. The man knows everything there is to know about us. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew what you ate for breakfast. Anyway, he settled four thousand pounds’ worth of your gaming vouchers.”
The young man’s eyes widened. “My vouchers?”
“Yes. And he knows all about your debts and Papa’s. He told me he would settle all of them for what seems to me a very inconsequential payment.”
George squared his shoulders and faced her, his brows drawn together. “What payment?”
“He ... he wants me—and I suppose that means you, too—to sponsor him and his sister into the upper echelons of Bath society. His sister is nineteen, and he says she’s too polished to settle for a man of her own class.”
“Polished, my arse!”
“George!”
“I’m sorry, pet. But it ain’t right to saddle you with righting my wrongs.”
“I wouldn’t be righting them. Mr. Moreland would.”
“So Moreland’s the name?”
“Yes. It seems he’s enormously wealthy.”
“Well, I don’t like his proposal.” He stuck out his lower lip.
“I think it’s a small price to pay for the generous settlement he proposes.”
“There’s more to his proposed settlement?”
“Yes. He would pay off all your and Papa’s creditors. Don’t you see, you could get Hornsby Manor back? And in addition to that, he will make settlements on the three of us.”
“His sister must be a real dragon,” George muttered.
“You can see for yourself tonight. He has invited us to Winston Hall for dinner. After that, I can give him my answer.”
He stood up and met her gaze. “Well, I don’t like it one bit. What kind of a fellow is he? Coarse?”
She thought a moment before answering. “While he did not at all strike me as being coarse, he’s not exactly amiable. He’s quite an ogre, going about spying on our affairs.”
George frowned. “I won’t set foot in the man’s house.”
“I’m not saying we will go along with his proposal, but what would it hurt to see them at Winston Hall? No one need know we were there. And his sister might not be nearly so obnoxious as her brother.”
His hands fisted. “If you really want me to go, I will. But I’ll not permit you to go along with the fiend’s scheme.”
Chapter Three
Felicity dressed her finest for dinner at Winston Hall. She wore her black silk. When the carriage from the hall called for them, she eyed it appreciatively— even enviously—but refused to acknowledge its grandeur. Such pride escaped her sister and brother. While praises gushed from Glee’s mouth, George commented that a better set of matched grays he had never seen.
Inside the carriage for the brief ride to Winston Hall, Glee could not contain her delight. “I daresay I’ve never sat upon anything this soft before.”
“I expect your bed is,” George contradicted Glee screwed up her face and swiped her fan at him, then turned to Felicity. “Explain, please, how we have the good fortune to be the first in Bath to dine with the nabob.”
Felicity cast a warning glance at George. “Our brother is considering entering into a business arrangement with Mr. Moreland. And, please, do not refer to him as a nabob. It is most unseemly.”
“Is Mr. Moreland married?” Glee inquired.
“I don’t believe so,” Felicity answered.
Glee’s brow lifted. “He doesn’t live alone in that huge palace?”
“I believe he has a sister,” George said.
Felicity was desirous of changing the subject, for she distinctly did not want Glee to know of Mr. Moreland’s unusual proposal. The girl had never been able to keep a secret in all her life, and Felicity found the prospect of all Bath knowing about Mr. Moreland’s arrangement most unwelcome. “Does not Glee look uncommonly good tonight?” Felicity asked her brother.
He glanced at the girl’s soft, cream-colored muslin dress that was covered with elaborately embroidered flowers of snow white.
“A most becoming dress,” he said. “If I didn’t know you, I’d take you for eighteen.”
That comment seemed to raise Glee’s spirits. “I suppose the Moreland girl will be wearing the latest fashions from London.”
“Probably have to make ‘em out of stage curtains,” George muttered.
Felicity scowled at him.
“Is Miss Moreland fat?” Glee inquired.
“We do not know what the young lady looks like,” Felicity said. “George is being obtuse.”
Soon Felicity saw that they neared Winston Hall. Many windows of the palace-like building were bright yellow with candleglow, and huge lanterns lighted the massive front entrance. The man was spending a fortune on candles, Felicity reflected.
The coach pulled up a U-shaped gravel road and stopped in front of the door. The crimson-liveried coachman let down the steps for them while a footman—also dressed in crimson livery—opened the huge door to the house. Within seconds Mr. Moreland and his sister greeted them in the great marbled foyer.
Gazing at the elegant Dianna Moreland, Felicity was immediately relieved that George’s predictions of the young lady’s appearance were grossly incorrect. Miss Moreland was rather taller than average and somewhat slim, with the same black hair as her brother and brown eyes, not the black of her brother’s. Despite the da
rkness of her hair and eyes, Miss Moreland’s complexion was extremely fair and free of flaws. Her hair at once recalled the careless simplicity of Roman goddesses.
And Glee had been correct about the young woman’s dress. The sheerest, finest silks in the palest pink layered seamlessly to create her stunning gown. A duchess could not have dressed any finer.
Upon first examination of Miss Moreland, Felicity was willing to give Mr. Moreland credit for speaking honestly of his sister. The girl would certainly not cause embarrassment. But Felicity still was not willing to accept Mr. Moreland’s proposal. While withholding a pleasant greeting from the odious nabob, Felicity greeted his sister with cordiality and was rewarded with a soft, genteelly spoken reply. The girl would do well in society, Felicity thought. In fact, Glee could learn deportment from her. Goodness knows, she had not learned from Felicity.
“Have you been to Winston Hall before?” Thomas asked.
“Yes,” Felicity said. “We are acquainted with the daughter of the previous owner.”
“Would that be Lady Catherine?” he asked.
Of course, a man like him would always know the ladies, Felicity mused, nodding. “It’s a lovely home you have purchased.” In her circle, lovely homes were inherited. She was not willing to lower the barrier between herself and the nabob. At least not yet.
The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Then I won’t bore you with a tour.” He led them into the brightly lit dining room. No fewer than three crystal chandeliers were suspended from a richly gilded ceiling above the huge dining table, which was covered with a white cloth and set for five.
To Felicity’s chagrin, she was seated next to the owner. She had known he would spare no expense in offering a highly commendable meal, and he did not. Even the wines he offered with each course were of the finest French vintages. How he procured them, she did not want to know. She had also expected that he would boast on his offerings, but he did not. He displayed the careless disregard of the four footmen and the exquisite porcelain and the out-of-season delicacies as would a peer who had been born to such wealth.