“I find this discussion distasteful. I do not want a divorce any more than you. The scandal it will cause…” His mouth curled. “Unfortunately, you have left me with no other choice.”
“I’ve left–”
“Enough.” The word reverberated around the dining room like a gunshot. “I am going to Parliament this afternoon to petition for a divorce. There will be a short trial, which you will be required to attend.”
“On what grounds?” she said softly, more to herself than to him.
“Speak up. You know I detest it when you mutter.”
“I asked on what grounds.” She lifted her chin. “On what grounds could you possibly be requesting a divorce?”
Ezra’s stare was as cold and unflinching as the act he was committing. “Adultery, Felicity. You will brought up on charges of adultery.”
To this very day Felicity hated herself for making it so easy for Ezra. Even in the midst of the trial when she had been forced to sit before a roomful of men she did not know and listen to her character being torn asunder she had been a dutiful wife.
She had not argued. She had not cried. She had not even whispered so much as a word of protest. And what had her good behavior gotten her? What had being a dutiful wife gotten her?
A reputation destroyed by scandal and a dirty two room flat in a square of London she never would have dared walk through before the divorce, let alone dreamed of living.
The cold, cruel irony of it filled her with both anger and bewilderment. All of her life she had followed the rules and minded her manners and always, always behaved as a well-bred lady should. Where had she gone wrong? What else could she have done? Why had all of these bad things happened to her, of all people? It simply wasn’t fair…but then life rarely was. Hadn’t she learned that difficult lesson seven years ago while trapped in a bedroom with a man who was not her husband? A man with Henry’s blond hair and green eyes…
“Where are the little nippers?” Felix’s gaze swept the small room and Felicity immediately stiffened.
“My children are none of your concern.”
“Relax, love. I’m not in the habit of harming babies. Or beautiful women, for that matter.”
His wolfish grin made her teeth clench. “Your flattery falls on deaf ears, Mr. Spencer.”
“Ah,” he said softly as he stepped towards her with the coiled grace of an alley cat, “but would a kiss fall on deaf lips?”
“Stay back,” she warned even as part of her yearned for him to do the exact opposite. Heaven help her, but she wanted to feel the weight of his hands on her body and know the taste of his lips on her mouth. She also wanted him to turn around and walk out the door and never come back. The conflicting feelings warred within her as the air between them grew heavy and thick. Anticipation hummed like a finely plucked bow string, sending waves of delicious tension coursing down her spine.
She flinched when Felix reached out, but did not draw away. A rather curious reaction as she had always retreated, in some way or another, whenever Ezra touched her. But that was something to be considered when her breath was once again her own and her blood was not roaring in her ears and her heart was not racing fast as a hummingbird’s wing.
“What – what are you doing?” she asked warily when the rough pad of his thumb traced the delicate line of her collarbone. He had the hands of a working man, the skin calloused and sun kissed. As a lady she should have been repulsed, but as a woman she found herself hopelessly, helplessly intrigued. Felix was the embodiment of everything she had been taught to avoid. But there was something tantalizingly forbidden about desiring what she shouldn’t.
“Seeing if you feel as soft as I remember.” His husky whisper sent ribbons of heat slithering down into her belly. Those warm golden eyes held her captive as his hand followed the natural curves of her body, fingers brushing over linen and lace before sinking into her hip and drawing her close.
She sucked in a breath when she felt his hard thigh against her own.
Closed her eyes when his head lowered…
“Who are you and what are you doing to my mother?”
Felicity jumped back as if she’d been scalded by boiling water when the bedroom door suddenly swung open to reveal a suspicious looking Henry with his arms folded tightly across his chest and a curious Anne peering out from behind his back.
The children!
Her cheeks went pale even as guilt and shame heated the nape of her neck and burned the tips of her ears. How could she have forgotten about them, even for one single second? What would she have said if they’d caught her and Felix kissing? How would she have explained? They were too young to understand. Heavens, she was nearly five and twenty and even she didn’t understand.
It is all his fault, she decided with a glare at Felix. He never should have come here, let alone tried to seduce her! What was he thinking? Better yet, what was she thinking? Yes, Felix was charming and yes, one glance at him and her knees trembled, but he was a man and if there was anything she knew with absolute certainty it was that men could not be trusted.
Oh, they were all charming at first. Especially the handsome ones. But once they had what they wanted or they saw something they wanted more off they went, heedless of the broken hearts they left in their wake. They did not care about the harm they caused or the lives they ruined. They thought only of themselves, and Felix was no different.
Why, with that devilish smirk and those golden eyes that had the uncanny ability to stare straight into a woman’s soul he was by far the worst of the lot! And she had been one heartbeat away from kissing him.
Again.
Foolish woman, she chided herself. Have you learned nothing?
“Henry darling, this is Mr. Spencer.” She glanced at Felix out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction to her children. Ezra had always treated Henry and Anne with bafflingly cold indifference. Had it been up to him he would have left their raising entirely to the nanny which was something she’d never understood. Why have children if not to love them and hold them and kiss their sweet brows? “Mr. Spencer is a Runner, just like Aunt Scarlett’s husband. Isn’t that right, Mr. Spencer?”
“Mr. Spencer is a Runner?” Henry’s eyes widened as his suspicion quickly turned to excitement. Like most young boys his age he positively idolized the Bow Street Runners. Both Scarlett and Owen had invited her to bring the children by for a tour of headquarters, but not wanting to inadvertently run into Felix again, she had declined.
A great deal of good that did me, she thought silently.
“Aye, that I am,” Felix said with an easy grin. Much to Felicity’s surprise he crouched down to Henry’s level and spoke to him not as if he were an unimportant child, but an equal. “Except I’m much better at catching criminals than Captain Steel.”
“You catch criminals?”
“That I do. The worst of the worst. Murderers and thieves and – other sorts,” he said when Felicity frowned and shook her head.
“Yes, Mr. Spencer captures criminals,” she said. “In fact, he was just on his way to capture one now. Weren’t you, Mr. Spencer?” Her meaningful glance at the door could not have been clearer. But instead of taking her thinly veiled hint that he had overstayed his welcome – not that he’d ever been welcome in the first place – Felix stuck his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers and rocked back on his heels as if he had all the time in the world.
“Actually,” he drawled with one of those insufferable grins that made her teeth clench and her heart flutter, “I’ve already caught all the criminals there are to catch for the day. I’ve nowhere to be except right where I am. Where are you three off to on this fine afternoon?”
Felicity had always thought of persistence as a virtue, but in Felix’s case it was a considerable annoyance. “That is none of your–”
“Pawk!” Anne stepped out from behind her brother and flashed Felix one of her sweetest smiles. “Howsies at the pawk.”
“She means we are going t
o see the horses at the park,” Henry translated.
“Ah.” Felix gave a serious nod. “My father used to take me to do the exact same thing when I was a boy.”
“How nice of him.” Felicity’s strained smile fell far short of her eyes. “Mr. Spencer, I would not want us to be a burden. You really should–” She was stopped short when Anne came dashing across the room and pulled at her skirts.
“Up, Momma. Up!”
“As I was saying,” she continued, lifting Anne up and settling her on the edge of her hip, “You really should return to–”
“You come!” Twisting in her mother’s arms, Anne grinned adoringly at Felix. “You come to the pawk.”
“Oh no darling, Mr. Spencer is so busy he could not possibly–”
“I’d love to, lass.”
Between Felix and my children, Felicity thought crossly, I am never going to finish another sentence as long as I live. Her lips parted, ready to tell Felix once and for all that he really needed to be on his way, but one inadvertent glance at Henry and her mouth snapped shut.
For the first time since they’d returned to London her son looked genuinely happy. He and Anne had been through so much over the past six months. If a walk through Hyde Park with a Bow Street Runner put a smile on their faces then she supposed she could abide Felix’s company for a little while longer.
“Very well. It is settled. We will all go together.” Her children did not notice the subtle rigidity in her voice but Felix did, and she could tell by the gleam in his eye that her discomfort amused him.
She set Anne back down before she lifted her head and made a point to meet his gaze without flinching. If he thought to charm her into submission with a few disarming smiles he would quickly come to learn that despite her diminutive stature she was not a woman easily cowed.
She had been once. Not so very long ago all it had taken was one of Ezra’s long, measured stares to set her in her place. But after he’d taken everything from her there was to take – her home, her reputation, even her title – she’d sworn to herself that she would never again give any man the power to control her. And unlike her husband, when Felicity made a vow she kept it.
“Shall we?” she said, pointing at the door.
Felix opened it with a showy sweep of his arm. “After you my lady,” he told Anne who giggled and toddled past him, her tiny hand firmly encased in Henry’s larger one. Felix glanced back over his shoulder, one side of his mouth curving in a half-smile. “Miss Atwood?”
“Mr. Spencer,” she replied formally as she sailed past him.
His quiet chuckle followed her out the door.
Chapter Three
Felix had always liked Hyde Park. It was a busy place, the bridle paths overflowing with a jumble of gleaming black carriages and women in plumed hats and men with trails of cigar smoke in their wake. It was also the one place in London where commoners could rub shoulders with nobility and aside from a few scandalized glances and the occasional disapproving ‘tut tut’ of an old dowager, no one said a word.
He’d been telling the truth when he said he used to come to the park as a young lad and watch the horses prance by. But his father had never taken him.
A drunkard with a mean right hook and the devil’s own temper, Cornelius Spencer had never been much of a father. Or a husband for that matter. Felix considered himself lucky to have escaped his childhood with only one broken arm and a scar above his right brow where, in a fit of rage, the old man had thrown an empty gin bottle at his head.
When Cornelius finally died of consumption no one had mourned him. Felix was the only one to attend the funeral and that was because he’d paid for it. It had rained the entire bloody time and after the first shovelful of dirt had been dumped onto his father’s wooden casket he’d walked away and he’d never gone back.
When his mother followed her husband to an early grave Felix had seen to it that she was buried in a small, quiet graveyard on the outskirts of the city. He couldn’t save her from Cornelius in life, but he’d be damned if he forced her to remain beside him in death.
Now, aside from an older brother he hadn’t seen in years, the Runners were the only family he had left. Despite being closer to thirty than he was to twenty, he’d never been inclined to marry. A mistress was demanding enough. He couldn’t imagine a wife. All the complaining and the incessant whining…no bloody thank-you. At least when you were done with a mistress you could toss a fancy piece in her direction and send her on her way. But a wife was with you until death.
Or divorce, he thought silently as he looked ahead to where Felicity was walking hand in hand with her two young children.
She hadn’t told him about the divorce herself, but he had eyes and ears, didn’t he? As well as a keen sense of observation. He’d seen the way people looked at her. Even in the middle of the park they stopped and stared and whispered behind their fancy gloves and expensive silk fans.
They whispered about a scandalous affair with another man. They whispered that green-eyed, blond-haired Henry looked nothing like his father. And they whispered that Lord Ashburn was better off without a harlot for a wife.
It was nearly impossible for Felix to reconcile the woman they described with the demure lady he had stolen a kiss from on a warm summer’s day. One with porcelain skin and dark silky hair and the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. But if there was one thing he’d learned as a Runner it was that every rumor held a seed of truth. The seed may not have been easy to find but it was always there, buried away in the dark and the damp, feeding on secrets and shame.
Felix would find out the truth eventually.
He always did.
“Are we detaining you, Mr. Spencer?” Stopping abruptly, Felicity peered back at him over her shoulder, a tiny frown flirting with the delicate edges of her mouth. With a cheerful grin Felix extended his stride.
“Not at all. Just admiring the view.” His gaze dipped pointedly to the slightly rounded bustle on Felicity’s light green walking dress. She may have been a small woman, but her curves were there if one only knew where to look. And Felix always knew where to look.
Pink blotches appeared high on her cheeks when she noted the direction of his stare. Snatching up a handful of her skirt she whirled to face him. The children, distracted by a pair of ducks, wandered to the side of the path.
“Mr. Spencer,” she hissed, violet eyes flashing.
“Aye?” he said with an innocent tilt of his head. He loved that it was so damn easy to get under her skin. Teasing her made him feel like a young lad again tugging on the red braids of Franny O’Connor. She’d been his first kiss, Franny had, and the memory was a dear one.
Since Franny he’d kissed his fair share of women…and done quite a bit more than just kiss. He may not have had a title or a fancy estate in the country, but what he lacked in capital he more than made up for in roguish charm. Truth be told he’d never met a woman he couldn’t have eating out of the palm of his hand within a matter of minutes…until Felicity. She was a puzzle, that one, comprised of intricate layers he was thoroughly enjoying peeling back.
On the outside she was shy and demure. A proper lady through and through. But beneath her timidly reserved façade was a woman with a spine of steel and the fierce heart of a lioness who would do anything to protect her cubs. Was it any wonder he’d been unable to get her out of his head since their first meeting? Even if Captain Steel hadn’t asked him to check up on her and the little ankle biters he would have still shown up on her doorstep. Particularly since her doorstep was in such an unfavorable part of London.
A scowl darkened his countenance.
What the bollocks was she thinking, renting a flat in the East End? The place was ripe with pickpockets and thieves and ne’er-do-wells.
He would know.
He used to be one of them.
“Mr. Spencer!” This time Felicity punctuated her words with a hard stomp of her foot.
Felix blinked. “What the devil ‘ave I done now?
”
“You’re still staring.” More color flooded her cheeks. “At – at my bosom.”
So he was. “And where else would I look?”
“You could look at the flowers.”
“Never liked flowers.”
“What about the clouds?”
“If you’ve seen one cloud you’ve seen them all.”
“The trees are rather lovely. The cherry blossoms–”
“I despise the color pink.”
Her loud sigh of exasperation made the corners of his mouth twitch. “You are insufferable!”
“Because I don’t like the color pink?”
“No. Because – because – oh, you know why!”
“As I’ve been nothing but cordial from the very first moment we met, I cannot say that I do. Care to enlighten me, love?” He grinned down at her. Who knew making a woman blush could be so delightfully arousing? Felicity’s cheeks were the color of an apple ripe for the plucking. Were they not surrounded on all sides he would have yanked her against his chest, buried his hands in her hair, and devoured her mouth in one satisfying bite. The mere thought of tasting all that sweetness mixed with a little bit of tart made his blood heat and the muscles in his abdomen clench.
Completely oblivious to his mounting desire, Felicity regarded him as one would a particularly bothersome gnat. “I would be more than happy to list every single one of your faults, but we haven’t all day,” she said sharply. Turning her back on him, she called out to her children. “Anne, Henry, come along! Leave those poor ducks alone. You haven’t any bread crumbs to feed them.”
“But they’re my fweinds,” Anne protested.
“I know darling, but they’ll be here next time. We will be sure to bring – no, don’t try to pet it!” Felicity sprang forward as Anne let out an impressively loud wail. Plopping down on her bottom, she tearfully held her hand up for her mother to inspect while Henry watched on with the long-suffering expression of a boy who had seen this scene play out many times before.
A Dangerous Proposal (Bow Street Brides Book 2) Page 4