He rubbed at the odd tingling in his lips, which had commenced the moment he’d kissed Felicia’s hand. His arm was still heated from the brief instant when she had touched his arm. It had not only planted the most impossible ideas into his head, but made him angry at their impossibility.
Before tonight, he had been pleased at his good fortune in finding just the right woman for his bride. Now dissatisfaction continued to creep in, taking up residence in his brain as he found fault with everything he had once admired about Penelope.
To chase away his doubts, he sneaked a kiss against her ear. Her skin instantly pinkened, and he grinned at her delightful modesty. Yes, that was precisely the sort of woman he needed. Not a hellion like Felicia.
His rebellious body began to throb at the mere thought of Felicia. Or perhaps it was the mention of her being a hellion, and how she might have exhibited her passionate side if they had been the ones to marry. He tossed the ridiculous notion aside, regretfully, along with the guilt accompanying it, and entwined his fingers with Penelope’s.
He was nearly swamped with an unexpected feeling of betrayal. Even stranger, it felt as though he was betraying Felicia, not the woman who would soon be his wife.
***
“It does not appear to be working as it should,” Ares said under his breath. He continued to peruse the crowded ballroom, even though the young miss was no longer to be seen. “Perhaps—”
“Everything is proceeding smoothly,” Aphrodite replied, but she would admit it was following a slightly different path than she had anticipated.
She smiled warmly at some guests passing by, while Ares gave a warning glare to a gentleman who did not mask his appreciation of Aphrodite’s charms. She placed a hand on Ares’ forearm, drawing his attention back to her before he decided to challenge the admirer to a duel or some other manly death sport.
“If it is proceeding smoothly, then why is he not in love with her yet?” Ares asked. “I recall Lord Rakehell falling instantly in love, almost the moment he set eyes on Miss Kirkwood.”
Aphrodite bit her lip to keep a smile at bay. What could be more endearing than the God of War fretting about her matchmaking efforts amongst the mortals?
“Lady Felicia is clearly besotted with him,” Aphrodite said, “which she was not at the outset. So I am quite pleased with the progression of events.”
It had been a close call when the young woman’s aunt had seemed to recognize Aphrodite. Fortunately she’d been able to make her escape into the crowd of guests before recognition dawned. Aphrodite did not possess the ability to eradicate memories from a mortal’s mind, which was unfortunate, since it meant she could only visit every other generation.
She had forgotten what an inconvenience that could be. Especially when there was unfinished business to attend to.
“I merely wonder if you should have utilized the handkerchief, as you did previously.” Ares cocked his head while he studied her. “You still have not explained how that worked.”
“I cannot use the same means with each couple, dearest. It would diminish the entertainment for us if I did.” She gave him a flirtatious smile. “It would also reduce my enjoyment at watching you attempt to discover how my methods actually work.”
“So when you spoke only with her, and not with him, that was not a deliberate attempt to prolong our stay?”
“I know how you wish to return home to Mount Olympus.” Aphrodite stepped closer, her body brushing against his. “But we have just commenced this adventure. Surely you can give it a bit more time.”
“I can do that,” he said, though he tried to hide his unhappy tone. He was less successful in hiding his body’s reaction to her.
She moved forward, until the only thing separating them was the threat of scandal if a dowager spied them in this fashion. Just as she’d hoped, Ares’ pique dissipated. The rest of him remained steadfast.
Since he cared nothing for the ton’s concerns about propriety, and was willing to battle those who might challenge him, he looped his arms about Aphrodite’s waist. “We should slip out onto the terrace for a short while.”
She tilted her head to give him an arch look. “I have told you many times previously. I will not pretend to be part of the statuary. I do not find that at all amusing.”
Ares laughed, a husky sound that made her melt inside, as always. “I merely wanted to take a stroll in a more deserted portion of the property. Someplace we could explore.”
His emphasis on the last word made Aphrodite shiver, even though the place was overheated from the abundance of guests. No matter what differences they might have, they were perfectly suited when it came to pleasing each other.
“What a delightful suggestion, my love. Afterwards, we can return and see what progress has been made.”
“Perfect,” Ares said, and she knew he was no longer speaking of the young couple.
Chapter 4
“Great-Aunt, this curse is worse than I ever imagined. I find my true love—finally!—after numerous false starts. Yet he doesn’t fall in love with me. I expected it to occur the instant I tumbled head over heels. Instead, he is betrothed to another.”
“Oh, no, the curse does not work that way,” Great-Aunt Aurore said, a bit too cheerfully.
Felicia halted in the middle of the milliner’s establishment, placing herself in front of her aunt to distract her from all the colorful hats displayed on the nearby table.
“But I am quite certain you said it did.”
Her aunt shook her head emphatically. Somehow, the oversized hat perched on her grey curls managed to stay in place.
“Yes, you did. You also said I must find my one true love before I reached my twenty-second birthday.”
“Well, if I did, I did not mean to give that impression. Not at all.” Great-Aunt Aurore’s eyes continued to dart towards a garish bit of headgear on a stand to her left. “Love isn’t like something you catch with a butterfly net so you can pin it in a case, for all the world to see.”
“Then what is it like?” Felicia said with more than a trace of exasperation.
Great-Aunt Aurore just waved her hand airily, but Felicia would not be put off.
“I have heard all my life of this curse, and now you tell me it is not what I believe it to be?” Felicia narrowed her eyes. “Cousin Tony is correct. This is merely a Banbury tale you have told me all these years. To keep me quiet as a child.”
“It is not a Banbury tale!” Her aunt’s impressive bosom heaved as if the indignation was ready to burst through the silk bombazine material. “And telling you about the curse was not the only way to keep you quiet when you were a child. It was the most effective, granted, but—”
She went back to perusing the milliner’s wares, intent on adding even more boxes to the pile she had already accumulated.
Felicia reached for the bonnet Great-Aunt was admiring, placing it on her own head instead. “I think I might get this one. Do you like it?” She twirled, and adjusted the brim, stretching Great-Aunt’s patience as far as possible in the hope of getting some much-needed answers.
“Felicia—”
“What must I do to ensure Hugh falls in love with me?”
Great-Aunt Aurore’s face remained impassive, which made Felicia instantly suspicious.
“What are you not telling me?”
Her aunt clamped her lips shut and then casually strolled towards the open door. Felicia rushed to it first, slamming the door before Great-Aunt could make an escape. She even blocked it with her body, just to make certain.
“Felicia, dear, these things must run their course.”
“But how long does that course take?”
She was impatient, naturally, but she was also heartsick, and wracked with guilt, and ready to retire to one of her family’s country estates until Hugh’s nuptials were over. Especially since there was little expectation that she would ever be the bride.
“I don’t really know for certain,” Great-Aunt replied, her voice fill
ed with sympathy. “I have only known one other person who was cursed.”
“One?” Felicia nearly shrieked. She lowered her voice to a normal register. “You led me to believe the curse was widespread. I was convinced I was the sole person not feeling the effects of this curse. And now you tell me you only know of one person?”
Great-Aunt Aurore swallowed, with difficulty, as if a lump of burnt bread was lodged in her throat. “It does not mean the curse is not real.”
Felicia tapped her foot, crossing her arms at the same time. “Who else was cursed? Am I acquainted with this person?”
“Yes. Yes, you are.” Great-Aunt Aurore blinked a couple times and then blurted, “I am the one who was cursed.”
Felicia could not breathe for several moments. The words Great-Aunt had uttered refused at first to sink into Felicia’s brain.
“If you are the one who was cursed—does this mean you found your true love?”
“Yes.”
Felicia waited, but Great-Aunt Aurore was in no hurry to add any further information.
“Did you marry him?”
Felicia did not recall ever hearing her aunt mention a marriage. But until today she had not known her aunt was part of the family curse. Clearly there was much she needed to learn.
“No, I did not marry him.” Great-Aunt sniffed, though there was no evidence of tears. She seemed miffed rather than saddened.
“Tell me what happened.”
Felicia took Aurore’s arm and led her to a nearby brocade settee. This story would take some time to relate. In fact, she might need to ask the proprietress for some tea. Or perhaps something stronger, depending on what her aunt divulged.
Great-Aunt Aurore sat and then folded her hands in her lap. “It was not considered a suitable match, so I was not permitted to marry him.”
Felicia’s irritation dissolved at that sad news. “But you fell in love with him?”
“I did. I still love him.”
“We should find him!” Felicia glanced a little more kindly at her aunt. “That is, if he is still alive.”
“Of course he is still alive,” Great-Aunt Aurore snorted.
Felicia’s heart sank. “So he is wed to another.”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then what is stopping you from marrying him now?”
Great-Aunt Aurore looked up at the ceiling. Then she studied the hats to her right, and when she had seemingly examined every bonnet there, she glanced down at her hands and began plucking at the fabric of her skirt.
Felicia grabbed Aurore’s hand. “You know those tricks will not work with me. I have been using them for years, so I am well aware of your techniques.”
Great-Aunt Aurore beamed. “You make me so proud, Felicia. You have been such an apt pupil, such a devoted student—”
Felicia ahemed.
“Yes, well, I am cursed because I cannot convince my young man to marry me.”
“Young man!”
Great-Aunt Aurore chuckled. “Well, he was a young man. Once. A long time ago, when I was your age. I remember the first time I saw him.” She blushed a deep rosy hue. “He cut such a fine figure—”
Her aunt appeared ready to wax poetic about the stirrings she’d experienced decades ago, proving just how powerful the sensations must be. Still, Felicia decided it would be best to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“You saw him and lost your heart instantly.”
“Yes. And just because he is now old and wrinkled does not mean I love him any less.”
Felicia bit back a grin. Her aunt would likely never see herself as older, which was quite refreshing, and in keeping with her youthful spirits.
“So he will not marry you?”
“No, he will not. And I have asked him to change his mind, at least once every year. Since I love him, that is my curse, because I could not fall in love with anyone else.”
Felicia’s hopefulness plummeted, for it did not seem likely that she could convince Hugh to marry her either. This curse had effectively doubled the spinster population in her family.
“But why does he continue to refuse you?”
“Because of our difference in standing.”
Felicia’s hands balled into fists. “You are related to a Duke! I cannot believe he is so toplofty. You are well rid of him,” she concluded. “You deserve a much better sort.”
Great-Aunt Aurore fell back against the settee, holding her sides while she laughed. “Oh dear, you have gotten it all wrong. He will not marry me because of his standing, not mine.”
“I do not understand.”
“My true love is Frederick. Our coachman.”
***
Felicia gaped at her aunt. Was it possible the poor thing was suffering from dementia? Surely she had not spent the past forty years in love with their coachman.
If she had, then this truly was a curse to be reckoned with, one with no room for negotiation.
But, despite the shocking revelation, Great-Aunt Aurore was still the same woman Felicia had known all her life: cheerful, kind, and unable to resist hatwear that had been fashionable in the previous century.
No, her aunt was not mad. She was merely madly in love.
But the news did not prove useful to Felicia’s quest. She knew she could not bear to love Hugh from afar for several decades, especially with him wed to another. It had been one thing to consider spinsterhood before she had fallen in love, but once she had felt those stirrings…
No, spinsterhood was no longer a viable option.
First she would discover a way for Great-Aunt Aurore to marry Frederick, her one true love.
Even if it meant they would lose a very fine coachman.
Once that had been accomplished, Felicia presumed the curse would enable her to convince Hugh that they marry, posthaste. She muttered a quick prayer that the curse could also resolve this without causing Miss Lansdale any lasting distress.
Felicia heaved a sigh of relief. It was all so simple, and so easy really. How could it be anything else?
***
“But you must marry Great-Aunt. She loves you!”
“I love her too, m’lady.” Frederick tugged the hem of his vest, the buttons straining to keep the livery fabric fastened over his stomach. “But it ain’t proper. I cannot have her be the laughingstock of London.”
Felicia paced the area in front of the carriage. She had dashed out to the mews once they’d returned from their shopping excursion, desperate to explain to Frederick what he must do to appease the curse. His forty years of resistance was not cooperating with her plans, however.
“Frederick, Great-Aunt Aurore is never going to be a laughingstock. She is eccentric, I will grant you that. But everyone adores her for that quality.”
His lips lifted in the briefest of smiles. It warmed Felicia that he thought of her aunt with such obvious fondness. Yet it also maddened her that he was so stubbornly protective.
“Has she told you about this curse?”
This time he rolled his eyes and muttered some imprecations that would have blistered her ears—if she had not heard them time without number from cousin Tony during one of his losing streaks.
“She has used that curse over the years to try to convince me to marry her. But it’s a bunch of horse—I mean, I don’t believe in it.”
Felicia growled, startling the man. “Well, I can attest that the curse is real. It has afflicted me too, just recently, and now I fear I will suffer the same fate as my aunt. Perhaps I cannot marry the man I love until she marries you.”
Frederick’s eyes widened. “Oh, m’lady, I would not want to stand in the way of your happiness, you must believe me on that.”
She stifled her triumph, which was just as well, since Frederick managed to crush it with his next sentence.
“But I cannot be moved on this topic. I am sorry, your ladyship. I truly am.”
Felicia wanted to pummel something in frustration, and from the look in Frederic
k’s eyes, he knew he was the most likely candidate. Instead, she spun on her heel and dashed back towards the house.
Surely the family curse could not expect her to love Hugh from a distance, smiling happily while he plighted his troth to someone else.
There had to be some way she could make this curse work in her favor, and soon. She could not bear to consider any other possibility.
Chapter 5
Hugh paced the plush carpet of his bedroom, tearing at the cravat choking him. He nearly succeeded at turning it into a noose before he ripped the piece of linen from his throat.
Why could he not get Felicia out of his mind? He hadn’t given her a thought since those long-ago days when she insisted on joining him and Julian and Tony on their boyish adventures.
Now she drove him mad with an inexplicable longing, a sudden yearning he might have pursued if he were not devoted to being an upright, respectable parent.
How had this happened?
He loved being Lucinda’s father, and did not want to relinquish that role, not ever.
What he had second thoughts about was becoming a husband to Penelope.
Hugh halted in the middle of the room. He couldn’t believe the thought had escaped. He had done everything he could to prevent it from even arising. Yet after a brief encounter with Felicia at his betrothal ball, he could think of nothing else.
Even worse, now he was irrationally consumed by the notion of having Felicia, as if she was meant to be his bride all along.
He growled at such lunacy. Felicia was the worst possible candidate for his wife. At every turn, she incited sensations he had put to rest, willingly, for good.
He was not about to resurrect Lord Wastrel because of a fleeting physical whim. How could he risk his daughter’s future in such a fashion? It was folly to even consider it.
He stalked towards the dressing table. His frustration, at himself, and the impossible situation, tempted him to sweep a bevy of useless items to the ground.
“Papa?”
Lucinda peeked around the now-open door. Her eyes were wide, yet not from fear. Her love of him knew no such thing. He knelt, his arms outstretched, and she raced into them. He closed his arms around her for safekeeping, although her pats on his shoulder made him smile.
Lord Wastrel Page 3