Lord Wastrel

by Donna Cummings

  Felicia frowned right back at him. “Julian, honestly, you have no romance at all in your heart. I hope you are never cursed as I have been. You would not have the fortitude to handle this as well as I have.”

  “Fortitude?” he sputtered. “Is that how you describe yourself? I suppose it’s a marked improvement over ‘Flighty Felicia’.”

  He studied her for several moments, as if trying to determine just how serious she was about this proposition.

  “Julian, please,” she whispered.

  “And what if he wants nothing to do with you? What then?”

  Felicia did not want to consider the possibility, but she knew it would be wise, if only to prepare herself for countering Hugh’s potential objections.

  “He would be marrying the sister of a Duke,” she reminded him.

  “I do not believe he is concerned with titles. His is an old and respectable one. Despite his parents’ concerted efforts to tarnish it.”

  She tried to think of any other qualities that proved she was the best choice. She was nothing like Miss Lansdale, but since it was obvious the pair had been entirely unsuited for each other, Felicia counted herself fortunate to be so completely different from his former betrothed.

  Ultimately she had only one real qualification: her unwavering love for him.

  “I have to make this one last attempt,” she finally admitted. She also uttered a fervent prayer for success. How could she bear to live the rest of her days loving Hugh if he was wed to another woman someday? She had barely endured his first betrothal. She could not be expected to go through that experience again.

  “You are absolutely certain this is what you want?”

  Felicia knew capitulation when she heard it, despite the doubt still lingering in her brother’s eyes. She ran around the corner of the desk and threw her arms around him.

  Julian heaved a sigh, returning the hug. “I am powerless to deny you.”

  “Do not fret. There is no one with that power at their disposal.” She laughed at his mock exasperation. “Thank you, Julian.”

  “Do not attempt to curry favor by calling me your favorite brother.”

  “I promise not to do any such thing.” She pasted a kiss on his forehead. “Even though you are.”

  Chapter 10

  Haselton led Felicia and Julian to the blue parlor, a room Felicia had been in many times during her youth. She was glad they had been shown to this room since it set off her ensemble to perfection. She had dressed with a great deal of care, ensuring she was not only looking her best, but that she appeared to be respectable, and demure, and all manner of things she was not usually named.

  She paced in front of the bow window, her stomach fluttering with excitement. She sat down on the settee and then jumped back up. She could not settle her nerves.

  It was past time for this new phase of her life to commence. Especially since until recently she had thought it might never occur.

  She fanned herself with one hand, and then sat down once more. She had been too elated to eat this morning, and now she was feeling faint. Julian gave her a concerned look, his raised eyebrows silently asking if she was going to survive the experience.

  What was taking Hugh so long? Surely Haselton had announced their presence. She bolted out of her seat, one foot headed towards the door.

  Julian stood as well. “Felicia?”

  Before he could say anything else, the door opened. Hugh stood there, his face blank, although it appeared as though he struggled to maintain the expression.

  Felicia did not know how to interpret it. She tilted her head to consider the possibilities, but then the room started to spin. She put her hand out, feeling for the chaise she had just left. Hugh darted to her side before Julian could reach her.

  “Just a few more paces. There you are.” Hugh smiled with such gentleness that Felicia felt lightheaded again. “I’ll ring for some tea.” His lips tilted into a grin. “Unless you are in the mood for something stronger.”

  She was not at all prepared for this playful version of Hugh. It had been too long since she had seen that side of his personality.

  “I think tea shall suffice,” she murmured. “But please, have the servants search for Lord Weyson. I must warn him someone is attempting to impersonate him.”

  He burst out laughing. “That sounds impossible.”

  She gave him a look that had once been described, and by him, as sour. “It would be a much easier feat if you were to scowl and frown at me.”

  Hugh started to laugh, but then narrowed his eyes until they were nearly closed. He leaned in, still seated next to her. “Is that more like the real Lord Weyson?”

  “It is similar,” she said with a chuckle. “Although I believe you also need to curl your lip.” She reached over and touched the corner of his mouth. “Just the smallest bit. Yes! You are a quick study. But you had best be careful. He will be sending you out in his place, to all the events he does not care to attend.”

  Julian laughed, startling Felicia. She had quite forgotten her brother was in the room with them. “I do not believe the world is ready for two Lord Weysons.”

  “I agree. As much as I fancy the idea, we will have to make do with just one of me.” Hugh clasped Felicia’s hands, smoothing his thumbs over the back of her gloves, and for a moment she imagined he wished he could touch her skin instead. “Are you feeling better?”

  She pulled her hands back. Why was he being so solicitous? She glanced at Julian, but he merely lifted one shoulder. He had no more idea than she did what caused this merriment, and so soon after the announcement of his broken engagement.

  Was it possible he was glad to be free of his obligation to Miss Lansdale? Her heart leapt with joy at the curse finally giving her something to celebrate. They would be posting their banns any day now.

  Felicia sat up, smoothing the folds of her skirt but keeping her eyes locked on Hugh’s. His lips tilted up in a smile. If she did not know better, she would think he could divine her thoughts. Which really wasn’t so difficult, as she had been told her face gave away every one of her emotions, so he merely had to study her expression for a brief moment.

  She dropped her eyes to gather her composure. When she was ready, she looked up at him and said solemnly, “Hugh, I am sorry to hear your engagement has ended.”

  To her complete astonishment, he tilted his head back and laughed. “Felicia, that is the biggest untruth I have ever heard you utter. And I have heard you tell quite a few through the years, especially if it saved you from a scolding.”

  Felicia grimaced, shaking her head slightly in warning. Hugh’s grin just widened. She turned to Julian. “You know what a tease Hugh can be,” she attempted.

  Julian merely rolled his eyes. “Do not think for a moment any of this is a surprise to me.”

  She cleared her throat and returned her attention to Hugh. She lifted his hand, and pinched hard on the spot between his thumb and forefinger. He bit his lip, but whether from the pain she was attempting to inflict, or amusement, she could not say. She did know she had his undivided attention.

  “I, well, we—Julian and I—have come today to suggest a solution to your current dilemma.”

  “My dilemma.”

  “I know you have need of a wife, and since my actions likely contributed to Miss Lansdale crying off—” She took a deep breath. “I would like to present myself as the next Lady Weyson.”

  Hugh blinked, several times, but he did not say a word. She had rendered him speechless. What if he had suffered an apoplectic fit? A silent one. She pinched his hand, to see if he had retained any of his speaking abilities.

  “Dash it all, Felicia. Stop pinching me.”

  He snatched his hand away, giving it a shake.

  She heaved a sigh of relief. At least he had not suffered any permanent brain injury. Yet he had not answered her question either.

  “It makes complete sense,” she continued. He was most likely ready to acquiesce, so she gave him one
last little push. “I have need of a husband, and I think we get on well—”

  “When you are not pinching me, you mean.”

  “Stop being such an infant, Hugh. I did not even put all of my strength into it.”

  “Julian, what kind of she-devil have you raised?”

  This was not proceeding the way she had planned. By now Hugh should have fallen to his knees in gratitude, smothering her hand with ardent kisses while declaring the depths of his love and passion. Instead he was stalking across the room to glare at her.

  He had been more amenable to her proposal of marriage at his betrothal ball.

  Felicia blinked, trying to halt the frustrated tears before Hugh noticed them. Why could he not see how perfect they were for each other? They could laugh together, at least when he was not scowling, and they enjoyed each other’s company, when he was not scowling.

  He might even fall in love with her one day. If she could keep him from scowling.

  All of a sudden this felt like another of her harebrained adventures. Only this one did not involve a well-sprung carriage racing for the Scottish border.

  Perhaps that was the problem. He could not see her as anything but Flighty Felicia, and her attempts to convince him otherwise merely reinforced his belief.

  “Julian, I am ready to depart.”

  She stood up, adjusting the ribbons of her bonnet, wishing she was already home.

  “No, please,” Hugh said, rushing to her side. His thigh hit the corner of a table, and he winced. Felicia glared, silently informing him he had deserved the punishment for his cavalier treatment of her proposal.

  Julian had stood when Felicia did, but now it was obvious he did not know what to do. She had assured him that Hugh would see the benefits of her proposition and would readily agree to it. He had not prepared himself for this eventuality.

  “I would like a moment alone with Hugh,” Felicia said, “if you will permit it.”

  Julian nodded. “I shall see to the carriage and then I will return for you in perhaps a quarter hour?”

  “Thank you.”

  Julian gave Hugh a measured look. “Weyson.” The word was said pleasantly, but apparently it also served as a warning, one that Hugh recognized, judging by the way his back stiffened. He gave a quick nod in return.

  Once the door was closed, they both began speaking at once.

  “You first,” Hugh finally said, his hand outstretched.

  “Why will you not marry me?”

  “Felicia, it is a preposterous notion!”

  “But why?”

  He halted, his hands on his hips, and stared at her. “I do not think we are well suited.”

  “But when we kissed—” Her breath hitched at the memory. “I would say we were quite well suited then.”

  “Yes, well, that should not have happened.” His gaze was hungry, though, raising her hopes, even as his next words dashed them completely. “I shall merely wait a short interval and then return to the marriage mart—”

  “You know you must wait until next Season, in order for the ton to forget this current scandal of yours.” At his slight groan, she pressed on. “I did not think you had considered that. And why are you so set against marrying me? Am I truly that horrid to you?”

  Hugh drew back at her words. “Horrid? You are anything but. I can scarcely keep my thoughts away—” He spun on his heel and returned to the fireplace across the room, standing stiffly. “I am quite fond of you, and I fear that if we were to wed, it would destroy these warm feelings we have for each other.”

  Felicia could not contain her laughter. “How many times have you delivered that speech? It is atrocious.”

  “It is?”

  “If you have any hope of it succeeding, you have to inject at least a small measure of sincerity. Like this.” She straightened her shoulders, letting the corners of her mouth drop as if she had been stricken with unbearable sadness. “I am very, very fond of you. But I fear that if we were to wed—” She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes delicately. “If we were to wed, it would utterly, positively destroy these warm feelings we have shared.”

  Hugh’s jaw dropped. “You have missed your calling, Felicia. I have never seen such stunning theatrics in my life.”

  She bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you. Now you can see why I could not believe your words for a moment.” She moved towards him, suppressing a smile when he stepped away. Was he afraid of her? She had not pinched him that hard.

  She stepped even closer, and this time she saw his lower lip tremble, though he seemed unaware of it. His eyes were focused on her mouth. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and his eyes shuttered.

  Felicia realized all at once he was not afraid of her. He was afraid of his unruly response to her.

  She nearly crowed her triumph. He was trying to deny his feelings for her. She could understand him doing so when he was betrothed, but what could compel him to do so now?

  She took another step forward, and then one more. He could not move to either side.

  “It appears you are trapped,” she said.

  “More than you know,” he muttered.

  She moistened her lips and this time he did groan. She felt her cheeks pinken, with her rising excitement, as well as her feelings of power. She wanted him. She was determined to make him surrender.

  She leaned forward, closing her eyes just as her lips touched—

  His palm?

  Her eyes flew open. She leaned back, staring at his upraised hand.

  He was not cooperating with her seduction!

  What was she to do now? She was not used to being a schemer. Granted, she got herself embroiled in a mountain of schemes, but generally she had merely to suggest something to a fellow conspirator and they were off and running.

  Should she resort to tears? No, she was not a watering pot sort of female. She could stomp her foot and have a tantrum, but that would merely put him back to his starchy demeanor, treating her like the child she had been years ago.

  There was only one thing she could do.

  “I apologize, Hugh.” She stepped back, keeping her eyes downcast. “I was overcome with emotion. And I did not consider how these unwanted attentions would affect you.”

  She spun on her heel.

  His hand clasped her arm before she could take a step forward. She turned her head, gratified to see the longing still in his eyes.

  “You are mistaken, Felicia, if you believe your attentions are unwanted.”

  “But—”

  She could see how he struggled with himself. He wanted her, but he did not want to acknowledge it. For some reason he wanted the feelings to go away, and since ignoring them had not made that happen, he was unsure what to do.

  He pulled her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he tilted his head, covering her mouth with his. He was possessive, his mouth hungry for her, yet he stopped for a moment, holding her face in his hands. He shook his head, as if dazed, and then lowered his forehead against hers.

  “What am I to do about you?” he whispered, anguished.

  Love me, she wanted to say. The same way I love you. Instinct told her it would be best if she did not answer him. He was not asking her anyway. He was pleading with reason, while she was begging for the opposite to prevail.

  He kissed her again, and held her, tight against his body. Hers responded with the same measure of heat, setting off an inferno inside her. She reached for his cravat, and then his waistcoat, wishing she knew what to do after that. Hopefully instinct could guide her, and if not, then Hugh surely could.

  A loud ahem startled her. Hugh’s mouth was devouring hers, and he was so close, while the noise, a distinct throat clearing, was coming from the doorway—

  Felicia and Hugh separated so quickly, she nearly lost her balance. Hugh reached his hand out and kept her from falling. Julian stood at the doorway, his face impassive, pretending he had not seen their display of passion.

  Felicia’s cheeks fla
med. Such actions might be overlooked when a couple was betrothed, but she had not yet persuaded Hugh to agree to her proposal.

  “Felicia, the carriage is ready.”

  She bobbed a curtsey in Hugh’s direction, keeping her eyes averted. Not that anyone in the room would believe she was demure, not after the riotous behavior she had just exhibited. Still, it kept her from having to meet either one of their gazes.

  “Good day, Hugh. Thank you for your—hospitality.”

  He made a noise that sounded like he was being strangled. She could only hope he was not, but she did not look because she was scurrying towards her brother, and the relative safety of the carriage outside.

  She could hardly wait to be in the coach, so that she could contemplate what to do next, while pondering Hugh’s strong resistance to her and how to overcome it.

  Surely there was something that would persuade him. She had plenty of evidence of his feelings for her. She was not about to be thwarted by this last obstacle on her path to true love.

  “Felicia, wait. Perhaps we could discuss your proposition further.”

  Chapter 11

  No one was more surprised than Hugh when the words left his mouth. Julian hid a smile behind his hand, shaking his head slightly. Felicia spun around, her eyes wide, and lit with unspeakable joy.

  He had lost his wits. There was no other possible answer. Yet he could not continue to deny his attraction to Felicia. Did he truly believe he could find another bride while experiencing these growing feelings for her?

  That had not proved so successful the first time around.

  “You were quite right,” he said. “I do not wish to audition potential brides.”

  She frowned, and her fists clenched at her side. “Are you suggesting I assist you with this?”

  For an instant he was tempted to say yes, with a teasing offer to aid in finding her next elopement candidate. It would be the easiest method to retreat from his rash words, even if it meant causing her confusion and potential heartache, and him another unpleasant experience with that right hook of hers.