Lord Wastrel

by Donna Cummings

Penelope raised an eyebrow slightly, as if aware of more than Hugh wanted to admit, especially to her. He turned away, making sure Felicia was safely on her feet before he dismounted, then he busied himself with retrieving her horse.

  Felicia laughed and made light of the whole episode, although Hugh noticed she did not look at him even once throughout the retelling. Her laughter was a little too bright. Her gaiety was a bit forced. But he was the only one who seemed to notice. He knew her emotions and gestures as if they’d been lovers for years.

  He shook off the notion, along with his body’s continued reactions to Felicia. Fortunately he would be married soon, and no longer susceptible to such irrational sensations.

  He strolled toward Penelope’s horse, grabbing the bridle and glancing up at his betrothed.

  “You are quite the hero, my lord.”

  Penelope smiled serenely, as she always did when he looked her way, but this time there was a small crease in her forehead.

  Hugh stroked the horse’s flank to avoid looking at her, not wanting her to uncover his inner turmoil. Only a wastrel would crave one woman while betrothed to another.

  No! He would not let this bolt-from-the-blue, wildly impractical desire for Felicia ruin his plans for his daughter’s future.

  His jaw tightened. Penelope would be his bride.

  It was the only choice possible.

  Chapter 8

  Hugh settled into the comfortable chair at his club, grateful at being released, even for a moment, from the traitorous thoughts plaguing him on a daily basis.

  He had spent the past week avoiding Felicia at every social gathering. He had also expended a great deal of energy ensuring they never had an opportunity to speak, despite her concerted effort to effect the opposite result—and in spite of his body’s insistence on a different course of action.

  He was more than ready to commence married life. It would put paid to these unholy notions about Felicia, while she could move on to some other gentleman who piqued her fancy.

  He let out a relieved sigh. It was the best thing for everyone concerned.

  “Have you ever seen this rascal so content?” Tony, Lord Travender, leaned against the nearby fire surround, cradling a glass of brandy.

  “And from a man soon to be leg-shackled. It is a marvel,” Julian teased.

  “My jubilation is because of this respite from everything having to do with the upcoming wedding.”

  He had been unable to ask the men about the whole predicament with Felicia. Despite being his close friends, they were also Felicia’s relatives, her cousin and brother. He would never be able to mention that scorching kiss…

  Not for the first time, Hugh wished his best friend Winbourne had returned from his extended honeymoon trip. Though perhaps it was for the best. Hugh had mocked the man’s feelings when things were not progressing so well with his now-bride, Georgiana, and Winbourne was certain to exact revenge for it.

  “Julian,” Tony said, “I have something I have been meaning to ask.”

  Julian raised his eyebrows, waiting with ducal impatience.

  Hugh nearly cackled at the sight. “How long has he used that imperious expression on us? Since he was a mere marquess?”

  “I’d say since we were in leading strings.” Tony snorted. “I’m tempted to ask his valet how many mirrors it required to get it just right.”

  “Your petty jealousy warms my heart, gentlemen,” Julian answered. “Especially since I have seen both of you attempting it when you think I am not watching.”

  Tony and Hugh protested, their words tumbling over each other to proclaim themselves blameless.

  “And I believe you wanted to ask me a question?”

  Tony and Hugh cackled anew at the exaggerated lift of eyebrows. This time Julian joined in their laughter.

  “Have you heard Felicia mention that curse lately?” Tony continued. “It is all stuff and nonsense, of course. But she has been acting quite strangely, more so than usual. Particularly after her recent excitement in Hyde Park.”

  “A curse?” Hugh sat forward, hoping to deflect discussion about his part in Felicia’s misadventure. “What sort of curse?”

  “The curse of true love,” Julian replied. “It’s an old family legend.”

  “Why have I never heard of this until now?”

  “I have no idea,” Tony answered. “The minx talks about it incessantly. And when Great-Aunt Uproar gets involved—” He placed both palms over his ears, as if blocking out the cacophony even then.

  Julian must have seen the complete confusion on Hugh’s face. “Supposedly our family is cursed to find their one true love,” he explained, “and fall for them instantly. If it is not reciprocated, they are consigned to live alone for the rest of their lives, unable to love another.”

  “It sounds like some sort of a fairytale,” Hugh retorted. “People have been marrying without love, to make a good alliance, for centuries now. Surely you can’t believe in this falling instantly in love business.”

  Julian shrugged, as if not entirely sure how to answer.

  Tony did not exercise any such restraint. He laughed, tilting his head back, filling the room with the boisterous sound. He earned a glare from an old gentleman nearby who had been woken from a deep sleep.

  “Whether or not I believe in the family curse,” Julian replied, “Felicia certainly does.”

  Hugh sagged in his chair, relieved and dejected all at once. This supposed curse might explain Felicia’s rash behavior. But how could it possibly explain his own?

  “You look positively morose,” Tony commented cheerfully.

  “Well, thanks to this curse,” Hugh said with a scowl, “I have Felicia chasing after me as if I am the prize at one of those damned cheese rolling festivals.”

  Tony choked on his brandy. “I can just see you bouncing along the hillside, trying to stay one step ahead of her outstretched hands.”

  “It is not at all seemly, Tony. I am doing my best to provide a respectable home for my—for my bride. And Flighty Felicia is making me into a laughingstock. No offense, Julian.”

  “None taken.”

  Hugh took a big sip of brandy, gratified at the warmth it provided. “I find myself attracted to her, of course.” He shot another quick glance at Julian, hoping the man had no idea how attracted he was to Felicia. “No offense, naturally.”

  He got a slight nod in return.

  “Just say what you have to say,” Tony urged, “without worrying about Julian calling you out. Although, if he does, you will have to find someone else to serve as your second, since I’m committed already to my cousin here.”

  Hugh laid his head against the back of the chair and tried not to growl his frustration. “I have gone to a great deal of effort to select the proper wife, now that it is finally time for me to settle down and marry. I cannot have these sorts of complications.”

  “Gad,” Tony said, his nose wrinkled with disapproval. “I don’t go to that much trouble for my racing horses. And you know how I love my racing horses.”

  Hugh lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at him. “You are impossible. This situation is impossible. I have never given Felicia a second look until recently. Why would I? The minx is more likely to pinch me than speak to me. But then she asked me to marry her—”

  “What?” Tony blurted.

  “When?” Julian choked out.

  “At my betrothal ball.” He turned to Tony. “I accused her of having some sort of wager with you.”

  “Damn. I only wish I’d thought of it.”

  Julian laughed. “I hope I am never afflicted with this curse—”

  Tony made another scoffing sound.

  “But, you have to admit, as flighty as the girl can be, she is very singleminded about this pursuit of you. Usually by now she has changed course and taken on some other diversion. It has been weeks since her last elopement attempt.”

  Julian studied Hugh in such a way that he felt compelled to sit up straighter, to prove he
was worthy of Felicia’s attentions. But it mattered little whether or not he was worthy.

  “Even if I wanted to aid Felicia with this blasted curse of hers, I cannot cry off from my engagement to Miss Lansdale.”

  He would go from Lord Wastrel to Lord Shunned in the blink of an eye. All of his efforts on Lucinda’s behalf would be utterly destroyed. Not that Tony and Julian could know that. He was not quite ready to divulge his daughter’s existence to them.

  “It is why I begin to believe there may be something to this curse,” Julian finally said. “Felicia has been careless about her own reputation with all these elopements, but she would not willingly blot someone else’s copy book. Nor would she deliberately cause Miss Lansdale any harm.”

  Hugh nodded in agreement. Felicia was headstrong and a bit of a hoyden, but she could never be described as mean-spirited or deceitful. In fact, he would be the first to call out anyone making such false claims about her.

  “What will happen to Felicia?” Hugh asked. “I mean, if this curse were actually real?”

  Julian seemed to grimace. “She will spend the rest of her days alone, loving someone who is wed to another.”

  Hugh wanted to groan. He could consign Felicia to a life of spinsterhood, an existence she neither deserved nor was suited for. Or he could cry off from his nuptials, causing Penelope untold embarrassment, while creating a scandal that would disrupt Lucinda’s life even further.

  It had seemed like such a simple quest, finding the perfect mother for his child. But now…

  He held out his glass towards Julian, wishing the man was dispensing wisdom, not merely brandy.

  ***

  Hugh left the club and entered his waiting carriage, signaling the coachman to head toward home. He settled into the cushions, watching the blurry scenery passing, wondering if perhaps he had been cursed too.

  It was the only excuse for these impractical, impossible thoughts of going to Penelope’s father and asking to be let out of his contractual obligation.

  His body urged him to throw caution to the wind, and damn the consequences to his daughter’s future, hoping he could somehow arrange things for the best. Years ago he would have eagerly followed such counsel.

  But now, his heart and mind despised the mere thought of it. Unlike his own selfish parents, once he knew of his responsibility, he had changed his wild lifestyle. His family’s curse—choosing scandal and impropriety over a child’s needs—would stop with him, no matter what he might desire instead.

  Hugh dropped his head in his hands. He would tell Felicia, once and for all, that this madness had to stop. It might not halt the unrealistic notions residing in his mind, nor cease his body overheating at the mere mention of her name.

  She might not ever forgive him for causing her a lifelong heartache.

  But at least he could spend the rest of his days knowing he had been a parent whose affections did not waver when presented with the latest temptation.

  The carriage stopped at his townhouse and he exited, trudging up the stairs to the front door. He was not as joyous as he had hoped by his decision. In truth, his rebellious body refused to accept his choice. But he knew he could overcome that, eventually.

  He would arrange to meet with Penelope’s father, to dispel any gossip that might have reached Mr. Lansdale over Felicia’s high-spirited pursuit.

  Hugh could even appeal to the man as a father. They both had their daughters’ future wellbeing in mind, didn’t they? Hugh was buying respectability, while Mr. Lansdale was gaining a title for his child.

  Before Hugh could congratulate himself on his strategy, Haselton greeted him at the open door. “Good day, my lord. You have visitors.”

  Hugh nearly growled. “I am not at home to visitors today.”

  “I have shown them to the blue parlor,” Haselton continued as if Hugh had not spoken. “And I am having tea brought in.”

  Hugh exhaled a heavy breath. “Who is awaiting me then?”

  “Miss Lansdale. And her father.”

  Chapter 9

  Felicia set her teacup in the saucer and then closed her eyes for a brief moment. She was alone in the breakfast parlor, so she could indulge in yet another remembrance of her kiss with Hugh.

  She loved the stirrings it provoked each time she thought of how tightly he had held her, and the intensity of his passion. She shivered, making her wish she had brought her Paisley shawl with her that morning.

  In her heart, she knew she should stop her pursuit of Hugh. She could see his anguish whenever she tried to approach him. He had become quite adept at leaving a room as soon as she entered it. She would have found it amusing had she not been desperate to apologize for causing him such distress.

  How could she be happy knowing the man she loved was experiencing such turmoil, and at her hand? That was a curse worse than any other.

  Felicia’s eyes shot open at the sound coming from the doorway. She grinned when she saw Great-Aunt Aurore scurrying in, barely able to contain her glee. Aurore headed towards the sideboard and filled a plate with shirred eggs, numerous slivers of ham, and at least four slices of toast.

  “Great-Aunt, shall I ring a footman to carry your plate to the table for you?”

  She spun towards Felicia, her eyebrows raised questioningly. Felicia merely nodded towards the plate which was piled so high it appeared to be a serving platter.

  “Oh dear, I am so distracted.” Aurore tried to put a hand to her forehead, but the plate dipped precipitously.

  Felicia jumped up and grabbed the dish with both hands just in time to prevent certain disaster.

  They both blew out their breath in relief, and then giggled like conspirators. Felicia would let Great-Aunt fortify herself, and then she would inform her what she planned next on the rocky path towards true love.

  Perhaps she should fortify herself as well, since it was not likely her aunt would agree with her decision.

  Julian entered the room, a grin on his face. “I suppose I could ask what new activity you have devised for breakfast, but I am not certain I want to know.”

  Felicia chuckled. “Great-Aunt Aurore is in dire need of nourishment for some reason.” She followed her aunt and set the plate on the mahogany table. “I would swear she is bursting with a secret.”

  Felicia reseated herself, across from her aunt, and gave her a meaningful stare. Great-Aunt Aurore attacked her food as if completely unaware of her niece’s thirst for knowledge. Felicia cleared her throat to get her attention.

  “You shall have to remove the plate if you wish her to spill her secret,” Julian said, his eyes twinkling.

  Felicia sipped her tea. “I suppose you are right about that. Or,” she said, leaning forward to catch her aunt’s attention, “I could tell you something I heard last night while attending the Johnstone’s ball.”

  Great-Aunt Aurore perked up. Even the hint of gossip was enough to catch her interest. If only Felicia had something to actually divulge. She wracked her brain for any tidbit she might have overheard, but for some reason she could think of nothing. It would be a good idea to keep something tucked away for future bribery efforts.

  Gossip was always the best currency where her aunt was concerned.

  “Perhaps I could help you,” Tony said as he strolled in.

  Felicia would have reacted with surprise except that Tony claimed his chef was on an extended vacation, which necessitated him dining at their house each day. It wasn’t that he was not welcome. It was just amusing how everyone pretended Tony had a chef, even one who was supposedly on a vacation that had started two years previously.

  Great-Aunt Aurore’s eyes lit up at Tony’s words, the same way he did whenever a wager was mentioned.

  “So what news do you have that will pry Great-Aunt’s secret from her?” Felicia asked. “I have tried without success several times.”

  Tony set a cup and saucer on the table, turning the cup so he could pick it up by the handle. He took a sip of coffee, and his face was the pic
ture of pure bliss. “I wish my chef could make coffee like this.”

  “Yes, yes, we will be happy to send round the recipe,” Felicia said, impatient to hear the latest on dit. Tony’s news was bound to be juicy, since people had a tendency to spill all sorts of confidences while they were in their cups at the gambling tables.

  And once Tony informed them of his gossip, she could hear Great-Aunt Aurore’s mysterious information, even though her beaming face was making it difficult to keep anything confidential.

  “I heard on good authority,” Tony finally said, “from the man himself, that Lord Wastrel is no longer engaged to be married.”

  Felicia’s cup shattered on the floor. Julian choked on something. And Great-Aunt Aurore wailed, “That was my news!”

  ***

  “Julian, surely you can see the importance of this information!”

  Her brother settled himself behind his desk before answering. “Felicia, I do not wish to dash your hopes, but just because Hugh is no longer engaged does not mean he wishes to be wed to you.”

  She would not allow her enthusiasm to be dampened. Her heart soared, since she was closer to marrying Hugh, and just when she had nearly given up hope.

  In truth, she had given up hope. Thankfully the curse had other plans for her.

  “We can at least go speak with him,” Felicia said, stopping her excited pacing of the library carpet.

  “To what end?”

  “We should give him our sympathy, of course.”

  It would help assuage her guilt at the part she had played in his broken engagement. Though when she remembered the kiss they’d shared in the park…

  “And then you shall immediately offer yourself as the next Lady Weyson?”

  “Julian! What an excellent idea. If only I had thought of it myself.”

  “You minx. You may fool others with that nonsense, but it does not work with me.”

  “It is this curse. I have not been myself ever since it descended upon me. But surely you can see that Hugh and I are meant to be together. This proves it more than ever.”

  “What it proves,” he said with a decided frown, “is your antics drove a wedge between Hugh and his betrothed.”