by Cheryl Bolen
Something deep within him stirred when he smelled Felicity’s light floral scent. He cautioned himself that he really had to pay more attention to the singer. He did not fancy being boxed in the ears by Carlotta.
Carlotta’s song came to an end and she stormed across the carpet, but she turned calm as she faced the two who had not had the decency to remain quiet while she sang. “Come, Felicity, you must sing now.”
Felicity walked gracefully to the instrument, told Dianna what song she would sing, and then began.
Though Carlotta, who now sat where Felicity had sat, tried to engage him in conversation any number of times, Thomas refused to rise to the bait. It was as if each melodic note Felicity sang came from a heavenly choir. She looked like an angel. A halo of gold framed her lovely dimpled face. With pleasure, he saw she wore the soft blue silk gown. His favorite.
He could scarcely believe only a week had passed since the day she had surprised him by wearing the pale blue wool dress. It seemed so long ago.
She sang just one song, followed by Dianna, who sang just one while Glee accompanied her.
“I have made my musical contribution for the night,” Glee insisted when she was asked to sing next.
After the singing, Thomas insisted on a game of whist, despite the hostess’s protestations.
“But I don’t play whist,” Carlotta said, her lower lip working into a pout.
“I’m sure we’ll have enough,” Thomas said. “Mrs. Harrison and my sister play, and Lord Sedgewick will make an able fourth.”
Carlotta quickly suppressed her anger. “Whatever pleases you, Mr. Moreland.”
It was the males versus females, and all four of them took their play seriously. Though Dianna was not competitive, she was conscientious, and was no doubt trying to impress Sedgewick. Few words were said. Thomas was somewhat inhibited by Carlotta, who stood at his shoulder. “So I can learn from a master,” she had said.
Yet Carlotta showed no signs of really desiring to learn. She had not asked a single question. He suspected she merely wanted to prevent him from engaging in conversation with Felicity. The cat! He could imagine her with arched back and could almost hear her hiss.
The men won one game, and the women the other before it was time for them to leave. “We must finish this soon,” Thomas said as he scooted from the table.
Felicity and her siblings bundled up for the two-block walk back to Charles Street.
“Why do you not allow my brother to take you home?” Dianna suggested to them.
“I believe Mrs. Ennis needs my opinion on a legal matter,” Thomas said with disappointment. “But, please, feel free to take my coach. It can come back for me.”
Felicity glared at Carlotta. “Thank you, Mr. Moreland, but we prefer to walk.”
Thomas cursed himself for agreeing earlier to Carlotta’s request. He should have seen it was a ploy to keep him from talking to Felicity. From telling her he loved her.
Colonel Gordon was not meeting with an old army chum, as he had told the others. He was with Lady Catherine. He had called for her at the hotel, and the two of them had ridden in private around the city in his red carriage. Like a good military man, he had wanted to drill her for her meeting with Thomas the following day.
“I am afraid if you act too amiable, the Usurper will grow suspicious. After all, you have not hidden your dislike of him.”
“I can think of no situation that would render me agreeable to Thomas Moreland,” she said.
The colonel’s eyes sparkled. “The other matter is to convince him you have truly injured your ankle. Do your best to elicit his concern—if he’s capable of showing concern for anyone, that is.”
“Don’t worry, Colonel, you can depend on me. He will be thoroughly convinced of my injury.”
“And . . .” the colonel continued, “you must make certain your cloak cannot easily be found.”
When he was assured she would be able to carry it off, Gordon ordered his coach to take her back to the St. George. As the coach slowed down in front of the hotel, he presented her with a hundred pounds, “as a token of my trust that you will complete our scheme as planned.”
She moved to step down from the carriage.
“There’s much more money to come upon the successful fruition of your, er, mission,” he told her.
She turned back, stuffed the money into the bodice of her dress, and disembarked.
Chapter Twenty-two
Thomas rode his phaeton to the St. George Hotel. The weather had turned noticeably colder, and a thick mist hung in the air. On the way into Bath, he had noticed ice forming at the banks of the River Avon.
Lady Catherine’s sudden communication after weeks of snubbing him puzzled Thomas. Not that she had been overly friendly yesterday in the Pump Room. It was as if she only barely managed to tolerate him. Like an uneasy truce between sworn enemies.
All of which was quite all right with him for he didn’t particularly like her, either. She was snobbish, rude and icy of demeanor. Altogether, Lady Catherine was a most unpleasant lady.
He arrived at the hotel at exactly noon. In the warm lobby he found Lady Catherine waiting for him.
She stood and greeted him stiffly, her manner contradicting her words. “It was so very good of you to come, Mr. Moreland. Do let’s sit down.”
To his consternation, she sat next to him on the plump velvet settee. Her lush green skirts brushed against his thigh. At least the woman still dressed finely, he thought.
“I am told it grows colder today,” she began.
“Yes, my lady, ‘tis miserable out there. If you can avoid being outdoors, I would advise you to do so. Ice is lapping at the banks of the River Avon.”
She frowned. “I was so in hopes of the winter being behind us. I am only too ready to welcome the spring.”
Did she ask me here to talk about the weather? he wondered.
“You and your sister are comfortable in Winston Hall, I trust?”
If one could be comfortable in a mausoleum. “Yes, quite. The estate is no doubt one of the finest in England.”
A small smile played at her lips. “I believe it to be so. I can boast about it now that it is no longer mine.”
“You must miss it very much.”
A martyred look on her face, she said, “It was the only home I’d ever known. ‘Tis rather difficult becoming used to such compact quarters now, but I should not complain. At least I don’t have the problems that come with commanding so large a staff.”
“I have grown to rely on my housekeeper and steward to deal with many of those problems,” he said.
She shrugged. “The neglect of my father’s steward is no doubt responsible for my reduced circumstances.”
She would blame her loss of fortune on someone other than her drunkard father. “I am very sorry, my lady. If there is any way I can smooth things, you have only to command me.”
“You really are too kind,” she said.
This time he was detecting a fraction less chill in her voice. Could she be warming to him?
She scooted closer to him and dropped her voice. “But since you are offering, I must tell you there hangs at Winston Hall a portrait of my grandmother that I have a keen desire to be reunited with. One just doesn’t realize at such a stressed time as a move, what one will want as time passes. Seeing her portrait again—possessing it—would afford me great pleasure.
How insensitive he had been to her. Although he had encouraged her to take her parents’ portraits, he had obviously not realized there were a great many other things she would miss. “My dear Lady Catherine, you can have every portrait at Winston Hall for all I care. They will, quite naturally, mean far more to you than ever they will mean to me.”
“You cannot know what you are saying, Mr. Moreland. Some of those portraits were painted by Gainsborough, and I daresay all of them are quite valuable.”
“But I’m already a rich man,” he explained. “How much money do you think one man can spen
d?”
She laughed at this. It was the first time he had ever seen her smile. And he thought now she really wasn’t so homely after all.
“You must know I have little room to hang them here at the St. George.”
“Perhaps you will marry and have a home of your own one day. Then I should be most happy to present you with a gallery of your ancestors.”
“I regret that the men whose birth matches my own have little desire for a wife who is plain as well as penniless.” A look of complete sadness came over her.
Knowing the wisdom of her words, he felt even sorrier for the displaced noblewoman. “Perhaps you would like to reclaim some of the art that has no sentimental value to you. The money you could get from them should allow you to buy a comfortable home of your own.”
“You don’t have to offer me the art, you know,” she said. “Winston Hall was yours for settling the many debts my family and I had amassed over a long period of years. We no longer have any legal claim to its possessions.”
“The world does not always move according to English law, you know. Your former possessions happen now to belong to me, and it is my hope that you would help yourself to any of them you would like.”
Her eyes rounded in wonderment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Of course. I have all I could ever want.” All except Felicity.
Tears welled in her gray-green eyes. “I have done you a great disservice, Mr. Moreland. I thought of you as a usurper, and I held you in the greatest dislike.”
“ ‘Twas only natural, given the fact I swept you out of the only house you had ever lived in.”
Her head inclined and her voice was soft, almost remorseful, when she replied. “You are really much too kind.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Lady Catherine began sobbing. He moved closer to her, put an arm around her shaking shoulder and he spoke in a soothing voice. “I hope I have not offended you?”
“I am s-s-s-so utterly ashamed of myself for what I had planned to do today.”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“You see,” she stopped to sniff, “I was party to a wicked scheme to entrap you here at the St. George. I had planned to accuse you of attempting to ... to force yourself upon my person.”
“Here in the lobby?”
“No. I was going to feign a twisted ankle and then ask you to fetch my cloak from my room. Then I was to sneak upstairs and surprise you in my chambers at the same time I broke out screaming.”
So wicked a scheme could only have been hatched by one man. A man determined to get Thomas out of the way. “Surely you did not devise so devious a plot on your own?”
She shook her head. “No, I was merely a puppet of the man who would wish to see you dead.”
Thomas nodded. “Colonel Gordon.”
“Yes,” she managed between sobs.
Thomas offered her a handkerchief. The colonel must be stopped, he thought grimly. There was no telling how many lives Gordon would take in his pursuit of Felicity.
After he left the hotel, Thomas sent a message to the Bow Street runner who had previously discovered so much information about Felicity and her family. The man was extremely capable. Knowing the matter would be in Mr. Brown’s hands, Thomas already felt more at ease.
Lady Catherine refused to get into the colonel’s tasteless carriage. She did not trust the former military man. In broad daylight on the street in front of her hotel, she handed him a parcel containing the hundred pounds. “I could not do it,” she told him.
His face turned red, his eyes steely. “You what?” he demanded in a loud voice.
“I could not discredit Mr. Moreland. He is a very kind man. Altogether a gentleman, though I know he was not born to such manners. Also,” she mumbled, “I could not discredit myself. I have stooped as low as I am going to.”
He grabbed her, digging his fingers into the soft flesh beneath her upper arm.
“You’re hurting me,” she shouted.
“You won’t know what hurt is until I get finished with you,” he said in a guttural voice.
She spit in his face. “You won’t lay a finger on me, or I’ll report you to the authorities.” She pulled herself free. “How would you like for me to scream Rape! right now?” Her eyes flashed with anger.
He raised his hand as if to strike her, then he realized there were too many people about.
“How fitting it would be were you to be the victim of your own evil scheme,” she sneered.
“Why, I could . . .”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “You will not lift a finger against me. My solicitor has locked away a document pointing to you if any unexpected tragedy should befall me.”
He shoved her against the brick wall of her hotel, then released her and turned his back, muttering an oath as he climbed into his waiting carriage.
It took several minutes before his roiling anger subsided. Then he told himself he was just as glad his plan had not worked out. He should have known better than to have welcomed another into his illicit schemes. Especially a woman. The woman who could keep a secret had never been born. And one more person knowing of his plan to discredit Thomas Moreland was one person too many.
Gordon was confident the reason he had never been suspected in Captain Harrison’s death was that either no one else had known he had been murdered or had witnessed it And no one else would ever know.
He consoled himself that he was far better off without Lady Catherine.
But now to think of another plan that would assure him a clear path to Felicity.
Of course it would be best to eliminate Moreland, but since everyone knew of his dislike for the man, he would quite naturally be the first suspect if Mr. Moreland met with an unexpected end.
What was needed was a situation that demanded that Felicity Harrison become his wife. Mrs. Gordon. Ah, he liked the sound of it.
Surely he could think of a way to make his dreams a reality.
Later that day, Thomas decided to pay a call on Felicity. She seemed clearly surprised as she moved gracefully down the stairs, her sister right behind her.
“Won’t you take tea with us?” Glee asked him.
That Felicity shot her sister an angry glance did not escape his notice. She, no doubt, was angry over what he had said about Sedgewick.
The invitation was more than he had hoped for. “Hot tea would be the very thing on so cold a day,” he said.
Felicity and Glee shared the settee in the small drawing room, and Thomas found the sturdiest chair—? one that looked English more than French—and sat down.
“It’s so good to see you, Mr. Moreland,” Glee said.
Why couldn’t Felicity have said it? “It has been rather a long while since I have been given entry to your home, you must know,” he said.
He could have sworn the color rose in Felicity’s fair cheeks.
“I have come to tell you your mounts need exercising. No one has ridden them this past month.”
“Oh, the poor beasts,” Glee exclaimed. “I must tell you I have missed our riding terribly.”
To his pleasant surprise, Felicity agreed. “I, too, have longed to renew my riding lessons.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
Glee turned to her sister, a questioning look on her expectant face.
“If the weather gets no worse,” Felicity answered.
A smile tipping his mouth, Thomas pressed his suit further. “Will the weather prevent you from going to the Assembly Rooms tonight?” he asked Felicity.
“I’d rather not—since the weather is so horrid.”
“My carriage will protect you from the elements. May I call on you?”
“That would be most generous of you,” Glee said. When Stanton brought the tea service and laid the cloth on the tea table, Felicity presided over the serving. She did not have to ask Thomas how he prepared his tea but added just the exact amount of sugar he preferred and then stirred in cream until the tea w
as the color of sand. She had remembered. It was such a small thing, but it touched him deeply.
They discussed the dance that night, then Felicity surprised him by saying, “Will Mrs. Ennis not mind your collecting us tonight?”
“What Mrs. Ennis minds is of no concern to me.” He watched Glee’s bemused expression slide to her sister, who showed no emotion at all.
“It’s very kind—all that you have done for little Jamie,” Glee began.
Felicity’s gaze whirled to Thomas.
“How did you know?” he demanded, his brows lowering. As soon as he said the words, he realized he should have played ignorant and asked who Jamie was. But it was too late now.
“It wasn’t difficult to piece together the information about his benefactor and realize it was you. Felicity also deduced that you were the man helping the boy. After all, how many people in Bath have an orangery? I believe, with your help, the lad will be walking in no time.”
“Though the doctor will give no assures, it’s my belief he will. But of course he’ll always be lame.”
“And if you hadn’t come to Bath,” Glee said dramatically, “I shudder to think what a dreary life the boy would have been forced to endure.”
“What good is money if one cannot help others with it? There is a limit to my own needs, you must know.”
A door creaked open, and Stanton announced that Misters Pope and Smythe desired to pay a morning call.
Thomas sized up the young men as they shyly entered the drawing room, deciding the bone-thin youths who were barely out of the schoolroom must be interested in Lady Glee. Indeed, one of them presented her with a nosegay of lilacs.
Handing his empty cup back to Felicity, Thomas rose and said his farewells. His step was light, as was his heart. He could not wait until evening. Somehow, he would find a way to tell Felicity how dearly he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-three
After their gentlemen callers left, Glee faced her sister. “I am so happy you received Mr. Moreland today. He is the very man for you, you know.”