Regency Surrender: Wicked Deception: The Truth About Lady Felkirk / A Ring from a Marquess. Christine Merrill
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Gretna.’ He said this almost to himself, as though calculating miles between the points.
‘But we met in Bath,’ she repeated, searching for a likely story. ‘We met in a shop.’ It was true. But she could not exactly tell him it was Montague and de Bryun, Purveyors of Fine Jewellery. ‘I taught needlework, in a school for young girls. I wished to sell some of the handiworks there.’ Hadn’t that been her dream, at one time? To make a modest living with her hands.
‘What was I doing in a lady’s haberdashery?’ he said, obviously surprised.
‘You followed me there, I think,’ she said, smiling at her own carelessness for choosing such an outlandish meeting place. ‘I saw you enter the shop and everything changed.’ That was very true. But it had not been for the better.
‘You were taken with me?’ Apparently, his ego had not been damaged, for she saw the slight swell of pride.
‘You are a most handsome man.’ Again, it was truth. She remembered the little thrill of excitement she’d felt, at seeing such a dashing man enter the salon. It was followed by the crashing realisation that he was a Felkirk.
‘And what did I think of you?’
That had been obvious as well. She had introduced Mr Montague as her employer. But William Felkirk had seen the low-cut satin gowns she wore and the possessive way Montague treated her and known that her duties for the man were not limited to modelling the wares they sold. Then his lip had curled, ever so slightly, with contempt. ‘I think you felt sorry for me,’ she said, wishing it were true.
‘So I offered to rescue you from your dreary life?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘I refused you at first,’ she embroidered. If she was to create a fairy-tale romance, there should be details. ‘I did not think your offer was quite proper.’
‘But I won you over with my charm and sincerity,’ he said with such obvious doubt that it made her laugh.
‘You took me on walks around the Crescent. We met again in the assembly rooms and tea shops. You made it clear to me that your intentions were honourable.’ Hadn’t she envied many young couples, courting in just such a way on the other side of the shop window? Sometimes she saw them later, in the showroom, admiring the rings. ‘When you made your offer, of course I accepted.’
‘Of course,’ he said dubiously. ‘But what was I doing in Bath? I loathe the place.’
This was a wrinkle she had not accounted for. ‘What were you doing in Bath? You did not say. What do most people do there? Take the waters. Attend parties.’
‘I have managed to resist such activities thus far,’ he said sceptically. ‘Why would I decide to do them now?’
‘I really have no idea. You did remark that you were bored,’ she allowed. ‘But that you liked it better, once you had met me.’
‘And then we eloped.’ He must suspect that this was unlikely. Having met his family and seen how close he was to them, she was sure, when he found the perfect wife, he would bring her to them, immediately.
‘You were unwilling to wait, even for the reading of the banns, or the time to procure a special licence. And I was...’ She took a deep breath and plunged forward with the biggest lie of all. ‘Your affections were very difficult to resist. Impossible, in fact. Afterwards, you deemed it best that we marry with all haste and inform the family afterwards.’
‘I see.’ Now he was the one who was blushing. Let him think he had taken advantage and owed her some reparation. It would be true, soon enough. He was staring at her reflection in the mirror again. ‘I do not doubt that I was insistent, once I set my cap for you. You are quite the prettiest woman I have ever seen.’
‘Thank you.’ She had grown used to accepting the words as a compliment, though they sometimes felt more like a curse. How different might her life have been had she been plain and undesirable? She might have gone unnoticed through life and kept her virtue. She certainly would not be in a ducal manor, flirting with a peer’s brother. ‘I was honoured by your attentions. I am sure there were others more appropriate for the brother of a duke, than an émigrée without family or fortune.’
He touched a finger to her lips. ‘Do not speak so about yourself. You have proven more than worthy, since the accident.’ The moment of spontaneous intimacy shocked them both and he carefully removed his hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said, wishing she could take the compliment as it was.
‘But the accident,’ he added. ‘Tell me about it.’
She gave an honest shudder at the memory of him lying broken on the floor. Then she lied again. ‘You were trying to impress me. A jump went wrong.’
‘But what of Jupiter?’
For a moment, she was completely puzzled. Was this some obsession with astronomy that she had not known? Perhaps he was the sort who thought his life was ruled by the stars. Then she realised that he was referring to the horse. What had become of the horse? She had no idea. If Montague was aware of it, he had surely sold it by now. Or perhaps it was still in a stable in Bath, waiting for its owner to return. ‘I am sorry, but his leg was broken. There was nothing that could be done...’ It was kinder that he think the animal dead, than to realise that no one had cared enough to find it.
He held up a hand and turned his face away from hers, as though unwilling to let her finish. The weight of his body sagged against his crutches, as if he could not support himself. When she reached out to steady him, and to offer comfort, she felt the shuddering sob even as he shrugged off her touch.
In a moment, he straightened and composed himself. ‘Then I deserved what I got,’ he said, in a voice full of self-disgust. ‘Taking foolish risks and putting another life in jeopardy. What the devil was I thinking to harm an animal that had been a faithful friend to me for seven years?’
If she had hoped to comfort him, she had failed completely. Felkirk was even more upset than he had been when leaving the parlour. And he grieved for a horse? When she’d met him, she had assumed that he and his family cared for nothing but their money and themselves. They certainly had not cared for her father, as he’d lain dying on their property so long ago.
But the duke and Penny had not been as she’d expected and had treated her as a long-lost sister. Now, the man in front of her was practically undone over the death of a beast. She wanted to take back the words and assure him that, somewhere, the horse was alive and well. Fine blood stock, like Jupiter probably was, would not have sold for hide and hoof to pay a stable bill.
Instead, she remained silent and let him lean upon her, as he struggled to regain his composure. ‘Do you wish me to call for Stewart?’ she said softly.
He shook his head, once, emphatically. Then he pulled himself upright and took a deep breath. ‘This is too embarrassing. But so much of my life is, it seems.’
‘It is not your fault,’ she assured him. ‘And I have seen you worse. Let me help you back to your room.’
He gave a very weak laugh as they made their way to the stairs. ‘That does nothing to console me. The last thing a man wants to be is helpless in the presence of a beautiful woman.’ He stopped for a moment and wiped a hand across his face. ‘And weeping over a horse. You must think me mad as well as crippled.’
‘The physicians did say you might not be yourself,’ she reminded him.
He gave her another wry smile. ‘It does not reassure me to hear I might run mad and no one will think twice about it. I am sorry to inform you of this, my dear. But I cannot blame a head injury on my tears over the loss of old Jupe. He was a fine horse and my truest friend. I must have told you how long we were together.’
‘I understand,’ she said, trying not to appear relieved. His upset, no matter how unjustified, had been a help. He was too busy trying to save some scrap of dignity to ask any more questions of her.
He