“Then why did you invite them?” she asked Blake.
“I didn’t. My mother did, and from the looks of this ballroom she seems to have invited only two kinds of people—fortune hunters for you and title-seeking debutantes for me. Oh, the joy of it!”
They paused in their grumblings to greet another fortune hunter, followed by another title-seeking debutante and her mama. Felicity kept looking for the familiar red uniform that should have been easy to spot in the sea of dark evening coats and pale ball gowns. But then she remembered what he’d told her last week—that he didn’t need to marry an heiress. Jack would not be here this evening.
Her heart sank. “No soldiers? You’d think that now the war is over, there’d be soldiers in need of heiresses. What else are they going to do?”
“It’s odd you should ask that, Felicity. Lord Ellsworth is working in Parliament on a bill that will help returning soldiers, especially those who were maimed in battle. He could tell you more about it. Here he is—and he’s brought not only his bride, but a soldier.”
Felicity didn’t see a soldier until—and suddenly she spotted Jack, clad in a dark coat, snowy white cravat, and pale blue waistcoat. A blond gentleman and lady were with him.
“Good evening, Miss Griffin,” he greeted her. “May I present my brother-in-law and sister, the Earl and Countess of Ellsworth? Gabriel, Samantha, this is Miss Felicity Griffin.”
Period. This time he did not add “my bride,” or “my future wife,” or “the next Viscountess Lockwood,” or even an awkward “soon-to-be Mrs. Jordan.” Felicity’s heart dipped slightly. For all Lord and Lady Ellsworth knew, she was just another chit like all these other chits.
“I’m pleased to meet you at last, Miss Griffin,” said Lady Ellsworth. At last? “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
“I can imagine, my lady.” And she’d probably heard most of it from the same exaggerated gossip flying from Howland Hall to London and even Brighton. Felicity highly doubted Lady Ellsworth had the slightest inkling her own brother had been the infamous highwayman, or at least one of the four and twenty by Aunt Cordelia’s fevered reckoning.
No sooner did she have that disheartening thought than Lady Ellsworth lowered her voice to add, “And all of it from my brother! I know he’s the highwayman!”
Felicity didn’t know whether to be relieved or astonished or just plain confused. “Tell me, my lady—”
“Oh, do call me Samantha, please. I so want us to be friends!”
Jack had mentioned that Felicity and his sister would make good friends. Did Samantha wish Felicity could be something more—like the sister she’d never had?
Felicity certainly wished it. “You know what he did, yet you don’t think the less of me for—well, if he’d been a real highwayman, he could’ve done unspeakable things to me!”
“Yes, that was quite a risk you took. But sometimes we have to take risks to achieve our heart’s desire. One of these days I’ll tell you what scandalous thing I did—or maybe I’ll let Jack tell you.”
Felicity could scarcely believe this tall, willowy, and elegant young woman had ever done anything even remotely improper, let alone scandalous. “Do tell me this, my la—I mean Samantha—is it true what he did was just a prank?”
Samantha laughed lightly and gave a little flick of her gloved hand. “Oh, he’s always cut capers like that, ever since he met Howland and Rollo at school. He—”
“What’s this?” Jack finally cut in. He’d been talking to Blake all this time. “Didn’t you believe what I told you the other day, Felicity?”
“Perhaps you should regale her with some of your past pranks,” Samantha told him. “Though I don’t believe any of them measure up to your most recent.”
“That they don’t.” Jack held out his hand to Felicity. “May I fetch you something to drink? Not a whisky, but perhaps some lemonade or even a ratafia?”
“Since I’m less likely to splutter lemonade or ratafia over you, then yes, please. You’re the first gentleman this evening who’s made that offer.” Maybe he’d take the hint and offer something even greater. She took his gloved hand and directed him toward the refreshments. “You’re not wearing your regimentals this evening.”
“As proud as I am of my military service, my regimentals were almost all I had to wear upon returning to England. But now that I’m back in London, my brother-in-law has seen to it that I dress like all the other gentlemen here.” He arched a brow. “No doubt that’s why it took you so long to notice I was here?”
“I must confess, I was searching for a scarlet coat.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she wished to gulp them back down. Now he’d know she’d been searching for him, hoping he’d come this evening. “Lord Howland has never spoken of the pranks you and he and Rollo have played over the years. Come to think of it, whenever he visits Tyndall Hall, he never says much of anything to my cousin Lydia, let alone to anyone else.”
“I believe their betrothal was also arranged many years ago,” said Jack.
“Also by their fathers,” Felicity affirmed. “Both now deceased.”
They reached the refreshment table, where Jack requested a ratafia for Felicity and a brandy for himself.
“I recall you mentioning that you’ve lived at Tyndall Hall since your mother passed away. Were you very young?” He handed her the ratafia, and she thanked him.
“I was nine years old. You know she and Aunt Cordelia were sisters. Papa was the youngest brother of the previous Duke of Ainsley, which is why he joined the army. Most of the time he was posted in one of the colonies and my brothers lived with him. Papa thought I should be a companion for Lydia, and since Renton Hall was nearby, that I should grow up close to the ancestral home of the man he’d long since decided would be my husband.”
“Even though that man wasn’t expected to become lord and master of said ancestral home?”
Felicity shook her head. “He spent most of his time in London. I think that’s how he avoided the epidemic that resulted in his elevation to the earldom. Even after he inherited, I still never saw him. He never came to call, not for any reason—not even after my father and brothers were killed on the Peninsula. He did call when Uncle Tyndall died, not so much to see me, of course, as to pay his respects to Aunt Cordelia and Lydia, which was only proper. Otherwise, he never gave me the time of day.” She spoke without a hint of acrimony, for she felt none. She met Jack’s steady aquamarine gaze and smiled. “I’m rather glad now that he didn’t.”
That was another bold thing to say, she realized—yet he still didn’t take the bait. Instead, as they strolled along the perimeter of the ballroom, he told her about some of the pranks he and Howland and Rollo had played over the years. Usually there were wagers involved, as had been the case with their latest caper.
“How did all of that start?” she wondered aloud.
“When I had to go away to the same school they attended,” he replied. “I shared a room with them. My uncle had abandoned any hope of having a son of his own, so he decided that I would be his heir and insisted on taking complete charge of my upbringing.” Jack’s tone of voice—indeed, his whole demeanor—suddenly turned somber. “Even though my parents were still very much alive, and had no other sons.”
Felicity almost gasped at the injustice. It was one thing to be sent to live with other relatives because your parents died, but for a reason like this! She hadn’t liked his uncle when she met him the other day, and she liked him even less now. “It seems you and I have something in common—we were both raised by relatives other than our parents. I hope I never have reason to send away any children I might have.”
“I feel the same way, so that’s something else we have in common.” He glanced the other way to exchange a greeting with a man who’d already been presented to Felicity this evening. She gathered from the brief exchange that Jack had served with him on the Peninsula. Was this a sign he didn’t want to talk to her anymore, and perhaps she should excu
se herself and move on? She realized she didn’t want to talk to anyone else.
And then he did something that almost made her heart leap. As he continued talking to his fellow veteran, he held out a hand in her direction and then threw her a quick glance, as if to assure himself she was still there.
Did that mean he still wanted to talk to her, or that he was hoping she might have grown tired of waiting and gone searching for a fortune hunter to flirt with?
“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, as he turned to her. Was he dismissing her? Whereas a moment ago her heart had almost leaped, now it plummeted. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I happened to spot him and didn’t realize he desired a long conversation, but I’m already talking to you. Where were we?”
A wave of relief lifted her foundering heart. She feared her reference to prospective children might have pushed him to seize the diversion offered by the sight of his fellow soldier, so she scurried back to the subject of his uncle. “You were saying Lord Lockwood insisted on raising you as his own. Did your parents object?”
He grimaced before saying, “As a matter of fact, they thought it very practical, since my father wasn’t going to inherit a title unless Uncle Crispin happened to cock up his toes in the meantime. He started by insisting they send me away to school. They originally meant to send me in a carriage with only a servant to accompany me. But I didn’t want to go, so I begged and pleaded with them to go with me until they agreed, and my sister came along, too.” He sipped his brandy, as if to fortify himself for what he said next. “So they accompanied me to school, said good-bye, and left to return home. Only they never did. The carriage was caught in a rainstorm and washed off the road down an incline. My sister was the only one who survived.”
“Oh, Jack.” Her heart ached for him as she longed to take his hand into hers, the way he’d taken her hand the other day when she told him about her father and brothers. “I’m so sorry.”
He studied the contents of his snifter. “Uncle Crispin liked to say it was my fault, and of course I believed him.”
It took all of her strength to keep her voice down and still be heard over the music and chattering guests. “Because you wanted them to go with you on the journey to school? You were just a child! It wasn’t your fault! What does your sister say?”
“That it’s not my fault, and she’s right. Naturally I believed my uncle at the time, but that was twenty years ago and I know now that it wasn’t my fault. My parents could’ve refused to take me to school, but that’s not to say that what happened was their fault, either. For that matter, they could’ve refused to let Uncle Crispin take charge of me. I can tell you I wasn’t too happy about that. Getting into scrapes with Howland and Rollo was little more than youthful rebellion and a way to forget my grief and anger at what happened, but I’ll be first to say we should all have outgrown it by now.” He smiled. “I give you my word, there will be no more pranks. Rollo will be marrying Miss Pitt if he hasn’t already, while Howland is all set to marry your cousin Lydia.”
Yet he didn’t say a word about being all set to marry Felicity. She had no one to blame but herself. She wanted to be courted and receive a formal proposal, so she would simply have to endure the former until Jack deigned to tender the latter.
She reminded herself that she wanted to marry for love, and therefore he would have to fall in love with her. He couldn’t, and certainly wouldn’t, just because she wished it.
They paused at the end of the ballroom to survey the dancers. “Do you think they’re in love? Lord Rollo and Miss Pitt, and Lord Howland and Lydia?” Maybe the mention of love would prompt him to at least consider it in regards to her.
“In Rollo’s case, I doubt it,” he replied, still keeping his gaze fixed on the dancers. Perhaps he was thinking of asking her to dance? “As for Howland and Lydia, who knows? You don’t think they are?”
She sighed. “I do wonder. It’s just that on our last morning at Howland Hall, I happened to spot him coming down the hallway carrying his shoes, with his shirt half undone, as if he’d spent the night in the guest wing instead of the family wing.”
“And you don’t think he was with Lydia?” Jack teased her with the hint of a smile.
She sipped her ratafia, savoring the nutty hint of almond. “I shouldn’t have said anything. ’Tis only gossip, and I should know better than anyone what—”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this, unless you’d like to warn her, but he does have a mistress who was at the house party.” Jack’s voice was so low she almost didn’t hear him.
“But that means she would’ve been…one of the guests?” She gaped at him in astonishment.
He arched a brow. “Flies, my dear?”
She snapped her mouth shut.
“I’ll wager you haven’t been to many house parties,” he said. “But I believe the lady in question is a friend of his mother’s.”
“Lady Saxby, I daresay.” Felicity couldn’t forget how sanctimonious the marchioness had been at the dance in Howland’s great hall. “She likely treated me the way she did to divert any suspicion away from her own scandalous behavior.”
Jack’s laughter lightened her heart. “Or maybe you have been to many house parties.”
“Either way, I don’t think I shall tell Lydia. She might start screaming. I’d rather inform her of the provenance of the ring he was going to give her the night after we left.” Fresh anger at the injustice of it spurted within her. “It belongs to my Aunt Martha!”
He sipped his brandy. “Pray, how many aunts do you have?”
“At least four. There’s Dolly and Cordelia on my mother’s side, and Martha and Minerva on my father’s side. They’re twins who were married to my father’s two older brothers, one of whom was the previous Duke of Ainsley. Aunt Martha’s son is the current duke.” She regaled him with the sad tale of when her cousin Troy, long before he became Duke of Ainsley, had been engaged to Lord Howland’s cousin Lady Celia. Because Troy broke the engagement—a great scandal that prompted his uncle the duke to banish him to India where he remained until he himself inherited the title after his cousin Gerard was killed by highwaymen who were not pranksters—Celia claimed the prerogative of keeping the betrothal ring, which had originally belonged to Martha.
“Lady Celia recently became engaged to someone else, and received a newer, bigger ring,” Felicity said. “But instead of returning her first diamond ring to Troy, or even his mother, she gave it to her cousin to place on Lydia’s finger.”
“Howland scarcely has a feather to fly with these days,” Jack said, as if in defense of his friend. “He can’t afford to buy her a new ring. I’m sure you noticed how run down his ancestral pile is—it truly is a pile. He’s rather counting on her dowry.”
Felicity thought the better of mentioning to him that Lydia’s dowry wasn’t as big as the one Blake and his mother had just settled on her. Jack surely knew, and she was determined to drop no more hints to him, broad or otherwise.
“A pity he didn’t give her the betrothal ring the last time he was at Tyndall Hall,” she said. “When you waylaid our carriage, you could’ve taken it and returned it to Aunt Martha!”
He favored her with an indulgent smile. “But my dearest Felicity…”
Her heart fluttered at the endearment. Surely that was a good sign of his feelings for her?
Still smiling, he said, “I wouldn’t have known it belonged to your Aunt Martha. I would’ve given it back to Howland.”
She furrowed her brow. “What did you do with that garnet ring?”
“I gave it to Howland, and he, in turn, gave it to Renton, thinking that Renton would return it to you. Everyone at the house party, to include Renton, was to believe that the highwayman had been apprehended soon after his dastardly deed and sent to his just reward.”
She bit her lip, pondering. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you’re willing to play the highwayman again, and waylay Aunt Cordelia’s carriage—this time to take Aunt Martha’s ri
ng from Lydia?”
He chuckled and shook his head before draining his brandy snifter. “I’m sorry, Felicity, but I’m now officially retired from all highwayman activities. If I try something like that again, I’m certain to be caught and hanged. I can only imagine how badly your Aunt Martha wants her ring back, but do you really want to go to such an extreme to recover it for her?”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Look at the extreme you went to for my ring!”
“That was a little different. What you’re proposing is not a prank, but vigilante justice, which is infinitely more dangerous. I might suggest you try reasoning with Lydia, but…”
Felicity couldn’t help snorting.
“As I said.” He placed his empty snifter on a tray carried by a passing footman, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, Felicity, perhaps we should stop prattling and start courting.”
Her heart gave another little leap. “Oh, I’m fine just prattling—that is—I mean—what do you mean by courting?”
“Well, you must know, since you insisted I do so.” He gestured to the dance floor. “Perhaps you’d care to dance? Or would you rather we go on prattling? I don’t know if it’s possible to do both at the same time.”
She swept her gaze over the ballroom. “I don’t even know how to dance. Yet Aunt Dolly insisted that—oh, bother.” She had a horrible feeling she’d just done something terribly foolish—as foolish as what she’d done the night they met, if not more so. She longed to excuse herself so she could escape to the retiring room to gather her wits, but she was afraid if she did that, he might not be here when she returned. Which she knew was silly.
“Very well,” he said. “Then perhaps you’d like to show me the duke’s library?”
Her mouth fell open again, and she felt that deliciously hot little shudder in her core.
“I know you’re not doing that to catch flies,” he murmured. “But if it’s because you want a kiss…well, there’s always the library.” His aquamarine eyes danced with wicked mischief.
The Highwayman's Lady (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 20