“Is this your first London Season, Miss Atwood?” He kept his attention focused forward but she caught the dark sweep of his pupils as he glanced in her direction. Did he find her pleasing to look at? She hoped so. While Lord Ashburn was not as dashing nor as handsome as Scarlett’s husband Lord Sherwood, he had a quiet, pensive way about him that brought to mind a scholar or a poet. She liked that he wasn’t a foppish dandy like some of the other men circling the room. Men who were quick with a flowery compliment or an entertaining joke but were keenly lacking in depth and substance.
“It is.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip – a nervous habit no tutor had yet to quell – as she peeked up at him beneath her lashes. “Am I so very obvious?”
“Not at all.” A frown tugged at the corners of Ashburn’s mouth. “You… you conduct yourself quiet well, Miss Atwood. I would not have been surprised to learn this was your sixth season.” Immediately realizing his error, he hastened to correct himself. “Not to say you would ever need so many seasons as that to find a husband. I am sure any man in here would welcome your hand in marriage.”
Felicity bit back a smile. “That is the wish for every debutante, is it not?”
“One can only assume. Although I am convinced some attend merely for the dancing and the chance to sneak champagne while their chaperone is looking the other way. If I may be so bold…to which category would you place yourself in, Miss Atwood?”
“The former,” she said without hesitation. “To dance and socialize and sip champagne is all well and good, but I imagine it would grow wearisome after a time. I would much rather be at home with my husband.”
He stopped suddenly, so suddenly that had she not been holding on to his arm she surely would have stumbled, and turned to face her. To their right couples were beginning to flock into the middle of the floor, signaling the fifth dance was about to begin. Felicity paid them no mind. How could she, when Lord Ashburn was looking at her with such earnest intention in his deep, dark eyes?
“This is my third season, Miss Atwood. I have taken many turns about the room with many different women but I have never…that is to say I have not…”
“Felt like this before?” she breathed.
Ashburn’s face flushed a dull, mottled red. “Indeed. You are the rarest kind of woman, Miss Atwood. The kind who is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the out. It was never my intention to be so forward, but I fear if I do not say something now I will lose my chance and be burdened with the heavy weight of regret for the rest of my days. Might I have your permission to call on you tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes.” It was a marvelous example of considerable self-restraint that Felicity did not shout the word to the rooftops. The butterflies in her belly flew up and began to spin round and round as if caught by a wild gale. “Yes, you have my permission, Lord Ashburn.”
He did not smile. Not quite. But there was an unmistakable warmth in the hard lines of his countenance that had not been there when he’d first asked her to dance. Crossing his arm in front of his body, he bent forward into a rigid bow. “I dare look forward to the day you might call me Ezra, Miss Atwood.”
Felicity angled one dainty foot in front of the other and sank into a deep curtsy. “As do I, Lord Ashburn. As do I.”
Exactly four months later, with the blessing of Mr. and Mrs. Atwood, Lord Ashburn asked for their daughter’s hand in marriage. Six months after their engagement was announced – they’d wanted to wait until spring – Felicity and Ezra were wed. Two years into their marriage they welcomed a son they named Henry for Ezra’s grandfather. When Henry was four they became parents again, this time to a chubby-cheeked baby girl they called Anne.
And then, precisely one week before Anne turned two years of age, Ezra went to his wife and coldly informed her they were getting a divorce.
Prologue II
Eight Months Ago
Sherwood Country Estate
(excerpted from A Dangerous Seduction)
“Anne, please put that down. Henry, do not climb on that! Oh for heaven’s sake,” Felicity cried in exasperation as she leapt forward and caught a vase just as it began to topple off the bookshelf her six-year-old son was dangling from. “Outside,” she ordered, pointing at the door. “Nanny will get you dressed.”
Anne’s little mouth fell open. “But–”
“No,” Felicity said with a firm shake of her head. “No ‘buts’ or ‘ands’ or ‘ifs’. You are going outside, and that is final.”
Henry snickered. “You said butts!”
“There are two different kinds of – never mind. Darcy, can you please be a dear and take the children? Hats and cloaks, I think. It is still a bit chilly and I do not want them to catch a cold.”
“But o’course, me lady.” Her Irish accent rolling off her tongue, Felicity’s nanny hurried forward and clapped her hands to get the children’s attention. Darcy may have been a young woman of only sixteen with a spattering of freckles that made her appear even younger, but she had a way with children that went well beyond her years. “Come along, Master Henry and Lady Anne. Give your blessed mother some peace and quiet.”
‘Thank you’ Felicity mouthed as her two little hellions were led away. She waited in the parlor until she heard the front door close and then it was a mad dash up the stairs and into her bedchamber for, as Darcy had so eloquently put it, some blessed peace and quiet.
Felicity loved her children. There was nothing in the world more important, and without them she did not know how she would have gotten through her very public and very humiliating divorce. But there were times – like this morning – when she wanted to wring their beautiful little necks.
Crossing to her writing desk, she sat down in a large velvet chair and picked up her goose feather quill. Tapping it thoughtfully against the side of her cheek for a few moments before dipping it in the inkwell, she crafted a short letter to her mother letting her know that things were ‘going splendidly’ and there was ‘no cause for concern’ and that she would visit ‘very, very soon’.
All lies, of course.
Things were not going splendidly and there was a great cause for concern and she wouldn’t be visiting anytime in the near future, but she saw no reason to worry her mother.
Finishing the letter with her customary signature, she blew across the paper to dry the ink before folding it into a neat square and tucking the square inside an envelope. When a quick search of her desk did not turn up a wax seal she went to look for one in Scarlett’s room.
With her thoughts on other things and her head bowed, she did not immediately see the man crouching in front of the dresser. Since his back was to her and the sound of her steps were muffled by the thick rug he did not see her either. In fact, neither one of them saw the other until they were practically right on top of each other.
“Oh! I am terribly sorry,” Felicity exclaimed. “I did not realize Lady Sherwood’s bedchamber was still being cleaned… You’re not a servant!” By the time she realized the stranger staring up at her with the most arresting pair of amber eyes she’d ever seen was not, in fact, a member of the staff it was too late. With uncanny speed he had a hand over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her narrow ribcage before she could so much as utter a scream.
“Easy love,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear as he held her snug against his chest. “No one has to get hurt. Ye weren’t about to yell for help, were ye?”
Tears gathered in the corners of Felicity’s eyes as she shook her head from side to side.
“That’s what I thought. So here’s what we’re going to do, love. Are ye listening?”
She nodded.
“That’s a bright lass. Now I’m going to slowly remove my hand and then you’re going to go sit on that chair in the corner. Do ye see it? Good,” he purred when she nodded again. “You’re not going to scream or try to run or cause a fuss. Are ye love?”
“No,” Felicity gasped when he loosened the hand covering her mouth. “I’l
l be quiet. I promise. But my children –”
“Are outside with their nanny. Go on, then.” He gave her a not-so-gentle push and she stumbled forward, catching herself on one of the bedposts. For a second she considered making a run for the door. It was so temptingly close. Only a few feet at most. But the stranger must have been able to read her mind because his eyes suddenly narrowed and he pointed directly at the chair. “Sit,” he said, commanding her as if she were a dog. “Now.”
With her heartbeat thrumming in her ears Felicity hurried to do as he asked, not wanting to incite his anger. Drying her tears with the cuff of her spencer jacket, she forced herself to take several deep, even breaths. Falling into hysteria wouldn’t help her children. For their sake – and her own – she needed to keep a calm, level head. Who knew when they might return inside, or what this horrible man would do to them if they did?
To look at him one would not immediately think he was horrible. He was of medium height and build with brown hair that held just the tiniest curl and long sideburns that extended all the way down to a narrow chin. There was nothing very distinguishing about his features, save a bulge in his nose that hinted at violence and those vivid eyes that were the color of warm gold. But then Felicity knew better than most that men had a way of hiding their deepest, darkest selves behind a charming smile and a charismatic demeanor.
As she watched him move from Scarlett’s dresser to her large jewelry box, she was reminded of a fox. Sly, cunning, and sleekly handsome.
Bold as you please he pried open the lid and began sifting through the dozens of glittering necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, all of which were worth a considerable fortune.
Scarlett was going to be so angry.
“You’re a thief then,” she said.
“I used to be,” he replied cheerfully even as he picked up an emerald hair comb, whistled under his breath, and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. “Now I am more of a… connoisseur of fine things.”
“That is the same thing as a thief!” “Is it?” His head canted to the side as he thought it over before he shrugged and lifted up a long string of pearls. “I suppose it is.” Biting down lightly on one of the pearls he shook his head and dropped them onto the floor where they coiled around his boot like an ivory snake. “I never take anything from people who cannot afford to lose it.”
“That does not make it right.”
“Ah,” he said, lifting a finger. “But does it make it completely wrong?”
“Yes!” she cried indignantly. “Yes, it does.”
“Well, to each their own I suppose.” A gold ring followed the emerald hair comb into his pocket before his eyebrows shot up. “What have we here?” Digging to the bottom of the jewelry box he closed his fist around something and pulled it out. Holding his hand flat, he uncurled his fingers one at a time to reveal a large sapphire earring surrounded by tiny diamonds.
“Do ye recognize this?” he asked.
Felicity gave the earring only the most cursory of glances before she turned her head to the side and looked deliberately at the far wall. “I am not helping you.”
He approached her with slow, catlike strides. Taking her chin between his thumb and pointer finger he steadily applied pressure until she had no choice but to look up. When she finally met his hard amber gaze she sucked in a startled breath, stunned by the transformation that had taken place.
Gone was the affable rake with the charming grin. In his place stood a cold-eyed criminal with a stare so fierce it sent chills racing down her spine.
“I’ll ask ye one more time, love.” His silky voice slid across her skin like fingertips, lifting the downy hairs on the nape of her neck as she shuddered with fear. “Have ye seen this earring before?”
“I – I am not certain.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Why does it matter? Don’t!” she gasped when he suddenly reached for her face, but instead of striking her he used his thumb to catch a tear trembling on the edge of her lash.
“Don’t cry,” he said gruffly as his gaze inexplicably softened. “I’m not going to hurt ye.”
“Why – why would I believe a thief?”
“Because I’m no’ a thief.” And just like that his cocky grin was back. “I’m a connoisseur of fine things.” He released his grip on her chin and gave a rueful shake of his head. “I always did have a soft spot for the pretty ones and you’re prettier than most. What’s your name, love?”
“F-Felicity Atwood,” she whispered. After the divorce she had decided to return to her maiden name, wanting no link to exist between herself and Ezra aside from their children. Children he no longer claimed as his own even though little Anne, with her dark hair and big hazel eyes, was his spitting image.
“Is there a Mr. Atwood I should be concerned about?” The wicked gleam in his eyes caused Felicity’s breath to catch yet again, although this time it was for an entirely different reason. When he looked at her like that she felt warm all over, as if she’d suddenly stepped into a pool of sunlight. Which did not make any sense give her present set of circumstances. She should have felt terrified, not tingly! And part of her was still very much afraid, but there was another part that was intrigued by the thief with the golden eyes and the devilish grin and the soft spot in his heart for a woman’s tears.
“No,” she murmured, forcing herself to look away from his intoxicating gaze. Surely she had enough problems without adding a criminal to the mix. No matter how handsome and charismatic he may have been. “I am not married.”
At least not any longer.
“Then it is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” As if they were meeting in a fancy ballroom instead of a bedroom he had no right to be in, the thief bent at the waist in an exaggerated bow complete with an arm flourish. “I’m Felix. Felix Spencer. Now I have to ask you again, love – have you seen this before?” Going back to the dresser he picked up the sapphire earring and held it up.
“Yes,” she admitted after a pause. “Yes I have.”
Scarlett had worn the earring when she’d married Rodger. It was the first – and the only – time Felicity had ever seen it aside from today.
“Then ye are certain this earring belongs to Lady Sherwood?” Tossing the earring high in the air he caught it with an easy flick of his wrist.
“Yes, of course.” She gave him a pointed look. “That is her jewelry box you are rifling through.”
“So it is,” he said with a sly grin. “When was the last time ye saw her wear it?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question love.” He rolled the earring across his knuckles. “When did ye last see Lady Sherwood with this fancy bit of blue dangling from her ear?”
Felicity folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I am not answering your question until you answer mine. What is so special about that particular earring? Why do you want to know when Scarlett wore it?” Her eyes narrowed. “This would not have anything to do with Captain Steel, would it?”
Though she hadn’t done it on purpose, Felicity had overhead enough bits and pieces of Scarlett and Owen’s conversation in the parlor to know that Rodger’s death was being investigated as a murder…and Owen considered Scarlett to be a suspect.
“Are you a Runner as well?” she pressed. “What do you want with Scarlett? She hasn’t done anything, you know.”
“It’s not what I want.” Felix slipped the earring into his pocket. “It’s what he wants.”
“You mean Captain Steel? That is who you are referring to, is it not?”
“I am sure I don’t have any idea what ye are talking about, love.” They both froze when the sound of voices rose up from the foyer. “Time to leave.”
Finally, thought Felicity as she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. But when Felix went to the window and threw it open her relief quickly turned to alarm. “You cannot go out that way!” she gasped, jumping up out of her chair. “We are on the second floor! You’ll kill yourself.”
Felix’s teeth flashed in a wicked grin as he looked back at her over his shoulder. “Worried about me, love?”
“No. Yes. No.” Flustered, she wrung her hands together. “There is – there is a beautiful patch of azaleas outside that window and I don’t want you to ruin them.”
“Best give me a kiss for good luck then.”
“What?” Her cheeks paled. “No! That isn’t–”
But before she could finish her protest Felix had yanked her against his body and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that made her see stars.
It only lasted a few seconds. Three at the most. Yet when it was finished Felicity felt as if she’d been kissed for hours. Stumbling back a step she pressed a finger to her lips and watched dazedly as Felix climbed up onto the windowsill, perching on the narrow ledge with the balance of a cat.
“Until next time, love.”
“Wait!” she cried.
But with a wink and an arrogant tilt of his chin he disappeared.
Her heart in her throat Felicity ran across the room, terrified of what she would see when she looked down. Summoning her courage – and bracing herself for the worse – she peered out the window.
The azaleas were untouched…and Felix was gone.
Chapter One
Present Day - April, 1816
East End, London
(a very unfortunate place to be)
Felicity stared at the crooked wooden door and bit back a sob. Were she alone she might have sank to her knees, buried her head in her hands, and dissolved into tears. She could feel them stinging the corners of her eyelids like angry little hornets. But she was not alone.
A Dangerous Proposal (Bow Street Brides Book 2) Page 2