Charlotte’s soft laugh tempered his annoyance. “Why do you think none of us have done her bidding yet? We’re all quite adept at shirking duty.”
Felix returned her grin. “Except mine weighs more heavily than yours, I’ll wager.” Bloody title. Bloody need to continue the Darrington line. Bloody people around all the time.
“There is that.”
“When do I get to live for me, do something that makes me happy?”
“That’s a hard question to answer since you’re the eldest. Only you can decide where you want your life to go.” She drifted across the room and paused at the doorway, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Although, you could marry and impregnate your wife to satisfy Mother then take a lover to satisfy your need for companionship, or dare I say love. No one would think less of you for it. It’s almost expected in this day and age.”
“I’d think less of me.” He let his shoulders slump while he studied his desk top. “Despite Mother’s zeal for grandchildren, I’m of a mind that when I marry, I want to do it right. I want to love my wife and hope that she returns the sentiment.”
Charlotte gasped. “Well, that mindset is a change. May I ask why?”
“Let’s just say I’ve met someone interesting who I’d like to convince she’s worth such attention.” He raised his gaze and met his sister’s across the room. “What if that woman isn’t the best fit for my title, Charlotte? Should that play in to my decision?”
“Why indeed.” She grinned and it set him slightly at ease. “Only you can solve that riddle.”
Felix glared. He knew he did; he felt his eyes straining and his jaw clenching. Plus, he truly wished the Frenchman ill in his heart of hearts. He prayed for a portion of the ceiling would dislodge and fall directly on the man’s head.
He had escorted his mother and sister to the Landry’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square as he’d promised. After being introduced to the hosts, everyone assembled in a large drawing room where they’d been for the last hour, mingling, talking, and generally wasting time after luncheon while plans for the rest of the day were made. During that hour, Lady Drummond made the rounds with Clarice trailing in her wake. Then the bottom had fallen out of his day when a dashing blond Frenchman beckoned and detained her. He’d kissed Clarice’s hands and cheeks, embraced her and looked, for all the world, like a long lost lover being reunited with his lady. With his longish hair tied at his nape and the bold black-and-white diamond pattern on his waistcoat, it was no wonder he’d turn a woman’s head.
They’d been quietly talking off to one side ever since. Felix ground his teeth. He didn’t like it by half. The man was too flighty and much too… blond for her. He narrowed his eyes. Something must be done to break them apart.
“Felix, darling, you’re positively grotesque,” his mother complained as she sat on a delicate chair to his left. Her skirts of silver-shot blue flowed over one of his legs. “None of the young ladies want to approach you.”
“I care nothing for any of the young women here.” He kept his gaze on Clarice. When she touched the blond man’s hand and smiled, Felix’s chest tightened. Bloody hell. I refuse to sit here and let that man charm her.
“There is always Lady Drummond. She is keeping quite a close eye on you,” his mother continued. She tapped her folded fan to his shoulder. “Despite the rumors swirling about her, she’s a respected member of the Ton and would serve your title and career well. She and her father know powerful people who could influence your path.”
Felix threw a glance at Olivia. At the last second, he stifled a shudder. “Chances are high she’ll use me to further her own ambitions.” Two weeks ago he would have nodded permission for the machinations of the Ton and how they conducted themselves up the social ladder. Today, he was done with his duty. “What of love, Mother?”
“What of it? Your father and I weren’t in love when we married.”
“Yet you were happy.” He’d heard the story of how his parents met at a ball and how his father asked for her hand at the end of the evening a number of times.
“Yes, and it took work. We survived and so will you. Go woo Lady Drummond. Secure the arrangements.”
He briefly peered at his parent. “I’m undecided about her. I believe I’ll choose happiness instead. Olivia won’t provide that.” On the tail of a sigh, he returned his attention to Clarice. A smile tugged at his lips. Her lavender dress was exquisitely suited for her slightly olive skin and her dark eyes. Would the Frenchman appreciate her exotic beauty, her sharp wit or the glory of her lips? “Yes, indeed, Olivia is most certainly not the woman for me.”
“Felix Darrington, you get that thought right out of your mind.” Roberta rapped him again with her fan. “That woman is a glorified servant. She’s not for you.”
“We shall see.” He shot to his feet. Of course Clarice wouldn’t pass muster with his mother. She’d never understand what was between him and Clarice. He tamped the urge to laugh. Hell, I don’t understand it. Nothing of the sort had ever gripped him before. It made him want to do crazy, wonderful, hysterical things and not care for the consequences. No time like the present to start on such a mad quest. “But that man is not right for her, and I must do something about it. I feel a responsibility for her.” Felix wove through the knots of people before his mother could recall him. “Charlotte, thank God.” He grabbed his sister’s hand and pulled her away from the cluster of women she chatted with.
“What is wrong with you?” Charlotte hissed. She yanked her hand from his.
“I have apparently lost my mind, but please, keep Mother occupied while I talk to Miss Delacroix.”
“Are you mad? Lady Drummond’s companion?” Charlotte craned her neck while she scanned the gathering. “Here?”
“I might be, but I’ve never felt such a pull to a woman before.” He rolled his eyes. “I simply wish to talk with her, and perhaps remove her attention from the man looking at her with the wolf’s own intent in his gaze.”
“Oh, Felix, I don’t know…”
“Please.” His pulse pounded in his ears. “Mother will never understand. I cannot understand why I must do this, but I need to.”
Charlotte nodded. She narrowed her eyes. “Very well. I cannot guarantee how long I can deflect Mother’s attention.”
Felix leaned in a placed a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you. I only require a few minutes with her, and I promise to buy you that pearl necklace you’ve been admiring.” The prospect of being in Clarice’s company again gave wings to his feet. In short order he’d crossed the room then drew to a halt in front of Clarice and the unknown Frenchman. “Good afternoon, Miss Delacroix.”
Her eyes rounded. Their deep color was very much like melted chocolate in the sunlight. “Fel—Lord Swandon. What a pleasant surprise.” Pretty color stained her cheeks. She gestured to her companion. “This is Mr. Guy Fournier. He’s Lord Landry’s valet and an acquaintance of mine from a few years ago. I had no idea he was even in London, let alone so close to Mayfair…” Her voice trailed off. She fluttered her hands as if she tried to search for words. Eventually, she let them drop to her sides.
“Fournier,” Felix said in lieu of an introduction. He had no interest what the man’s function in society was. His only goal was to separate him from Clarice. “I’m surprised Landry allows his valet mingle with members of the Ton. I would think you’d be abovestairs, preparing to dress him for dinner.”
Yes, it was beneath him to mention a man’s profession in open company, but Felix was beyond caring. As if something inside him had been tripped, the need to make certain Clarice saw him in a favorable light burned strong. He wanted her to choose him as a potential suitor.
Guy Fournier bowed from the waist. The thin blond mustache clinging to his upper lip curved with his cold grin. “Thank you for clarifying my duties in such a succinct way, Lord Swandon. Without you to sum them up so nicely, I’d be awash of confusion.” Heavy sarcasm hung in his slightly accented voice. “However, I am also Lord
Landry’s second cousin once removed, so this affords me a small position in Society.”
“A rather tenuous position, if I may say so.” He glanced at Clarice. Splotchy color blazed over her chest. Her eyes flashed. She clenched her skirt in her fisted hands. Belatedly, he realized he’d slighted her as well. Her position in Society was somewhat less than Mr. Fournier’s. That wouldn’t do at all. He’d wanted to make Fournier feel inferior—not Clarice. He glanced at her. “Forgive me. I apologize. You already know of my respect for you.” He then narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “How do you know Miss Delacroix?”
Guy stared back, his green eyes frosty. “She and I had considered marriage at one time.”
“Ah.” Felix glared. Had they been lovers as well?
“How do you know ma cherie Clarice?”
Felix resisted the urge to grind his teeth at the endearment. “I had the great fortune of eating a dinner she prepared. Beyond that, she’s becoming a fast friend.” He slid a look at Clarice. “I should hope.”
“Yes.” Though she smiled, it didn’t soften the lines of anxiety on her face. “It seems Lord Swandon and I have a few things in common.”
“Aha. She cooked you dinner, but you cannot converse with her or take her driving as it would be unseemly for a lord to tarry with a servant, yes?”
“I suppose that is true in some cases.” Felix hated that his viewpoints at times mirrored Guy’s. “But I hold Clarice with a much loftier respect than I do servants. If I want to take her driving, I shall do so without another thought.” In fact, that sounded like a capital idea. She’d probably enjoy such an outing.
“Then you do not have a claim to her like I do.” Guy sniffed. “My dearest wish is that she’ll want to renew my acquaintance and we can move forward in our relationship.”
Clarice shook her head. “Guy, you know we do not have a relationship. We are merely friends.”
Felix clenched a hand into a fist, ignoring her correction. “Has she promised you her hand?” God would need to strike him dead first before he would allow Guy to touch her. “For if she hasn’t, her attentions are free for any man to claim.”
“That’s enough,” Clarice hissed. She laid a hand on both their sleeves. “This is neither the time nor the place for such a conversation.”
“No, but it is a certainty. You and I share history.” A smug grin slithered over the Frenchman’s face. He continued as if Clarice had never spoken. “We also share a love of our native France.” He pinned Felix with a hard glance. “It’s highly unlikely she’d choose an improper, passionless Englishman over me.”
Hot ire rose in Felix’s chest at the sight of Clarice touching the other man. Had she not felt the same connection he had at the pastry shop? “I’ll wager I can best you in any venue you choose.” Anger rasped his voice. He dropped it to a whisper. The last thing he needed was the attention of the room. “Perhaps you’d enjoy a challenge by a game of darts?”
“I grew up playing darts with my siblings.” Guy lifted a thin eyebrow. “If you’d like to be witness to my mastery, so be it.”
“Not in the way I learned. If that is past your skill set, perhaps a game of blind man’s bluff?” The pettiness of his request forced a chuckle. He would not let this man get the best of him.
“That is a child’s game, my lord. Do not insult my intelligence or yours.” Guy crossed his arms over his chest.
Felix’s jaw worked. “Perhaps cards would be your challenge of choice?”
Guy’s laugh grated along Felix’s skin. “Ah, the English bravado. How charming, but I am quite skilled in all the games you’ve suggested, and if I were you, I’d stop before you embarrass yourself.”
“My skill with cards is impressive. Ask any gentleman who frequents Whites. I hold notes for some of the town’s loftiest men.”
Interest flickered in Guy’s eyes. He nodded. “Very well. If you’d care to adjourn to one of the card rooms? I’d love to hand you a disappointment, and do be certain you wager a large sum on yourself. I’d like to collect as well as best you.”
“Damnation, but you are a smart prick, aren’t you?” The gall of the man.
“Lord Swandon, please. Consider the scandal.” Clarice tugged on his arm, but he disengaged her in short order. “Homme aggravante.”
Her muttered words penetrated the angry haze around his brain. Did she just call me an aggravating man? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. All he wanted in this moment was to put Guy in his place and show Clarice she deserved better than this weasel of a man.
“Forget the cards, Fournier. There will be no scandal in a friendly feat of strength between acquaintances.” Common sense fled as Felix shrugged out of the tight confines of his tailcoat then threw it to the floor. It simply wasn’t done to appear in shirtsleeves in public, but there was no help for it. “If you’d care to join me outside on the lawn, Guy, I wish to challenge you to a rousing bout of fisticuffs. In fact, let’s call the guests over and let them pick sides.” In this, he had no doubts he could best the other man. “My brother and I often train when we’re together. I’m quite good.”
“Very well, Lord Swandon. The lawn is an acceptable place for your disappointment.” The Frenchman’s chuckle grated on Felix’s nerves.
“You’ll be the one who is disappointed.” If truth be told, he couldn’t wait to land the man a facer or perhaps bloody his nose. He wasn’t fit to touch Clarice’s shoes let alone try to win her hand. No sooner had he manipulated the buttons on his waistcoat than Clarice shoved herself between the two of them.
“That is quite enough.” She planted her palms against Guy’s chest and pushed. “How dare you challenge Lord Swandon. Have you no care for your reputation or your position? And you.” She turned to face Felix. “You should know better. Your position in Society makes you a leader, and you’re doing a poor job of it.”
“Do not lecture me, Clarice. You know nothing of what has driven me to this pass.”
“Then let me tell you what I do know.” She glared at him. Her eyes shot brown fire. “I cannot abide posturing males. Both of you can go to the devil for all I care. You especially, Felix. Don’t assume I haven’t figured out exactly what you’re attempting here.” She spun around and bolted for the nearest doorway.
“It would seem Clarice was not impressed with your alleged prowess, Lord Swandon.” Smug satisfaction rang in the Frenchman’s voice. “Better luck next time.” Seconds later Guy followed her with a smirk on his face.
Stuff and bother. Felix glanced around the immediate area as he buttoned his waistcoat. It didn’t appear anyone had noticed the incident, which was a small miracle in itself. Just as he began to relax, his mother sailed over to him. Charlotte trailed behind.
“Have you lost your mind?” Though Roberta kept her voice low, there was no mistaking the indignation in her question. “Put your tailcoat on right this second.”
“Perhaps I have.” Felix retrieved his coat from the floor then accepted Charlotte’s help in donning it. “I apologize. There is no excuse for my horrid behavior.”
“Oh, there’s an excuse, all right, but it doesn’t reflect well on you, and you’re certainly not thinking with your head.” With barely an inclination of her chin, she demanded he follow her as she exited the drawing room through a different door than Clarice had taken. The soft whisper of Charlotte’s slippers assured she followed them. Once in a deserted ante-chamber, his mother turned on him. “You have better things to do than contemplate a dalliance with an unworthy woman. Think of your duty to your title and your family, Felix. Everyone expects better than that from you.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He brushed dust from his jacket. “All my life I’ve done everything anyone expected of me. What would it hurt to finally do something for me?” Shock ricocheted through his chest. “I told you before, if I find a woman who interests me, don’t be surprised if I pursue her.”
“Except at this crossroad, interest and duty collide.” Roberta shook h
er head. “You are the oldest son. You have certain responsibilities. Don’t disappoint me or your father’s memory. First, you marry—someone suitable and preferably titled. After that, feel free to tup whomever you wish, but not until then.”
“Good God.” He looked from his mother to his sister. Did they both think so poorly of him and his needs? Then his lips curved with a grin. Clarice was titled. Was now the time to that particular bug in his mother’s ear?
“Forget about the chit, Felix.” Her expression softened. “I nearly lost your father’s regard to someone much like Miss Delacroix.”
Oh, but there was no one like his Clarice, and certainly not a comte’s granddaughter. “You never told me that. What happened?” As much as he tried, he couldn’t imagine his traditional, rule following father keeping a mistress or even contemplating having one.
“I gave him an ultimatum. He could keep a lady-bird, but he’d lose me. In the end, he made the right choice and chose to honor his title and our marriage bond.”
Ah.” Though his parents had truly loved each other, did his father ever regret the decision? Was the woman who’d turned his head his one grand passion he’d been fated to walk away from? “No wonder Father was so adamantly opposed to seeing his children wed at early ages.” In fact, his father had encouraged all of them to experience the world before they settled down.
“Indeed. Your father was a wise man once he finally got his heart and his head aligned.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Come, Charlotte. Let’s see if we can salvage what’s happened and spin it in our favor.” The clip of her heels rang on the floor. “Your brother is fatigued just now and prone to rash decisions. That’s what we’ll say if anyone asks.”
Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord Page 8