From Wallflower to Countess. Janice Preston

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СКАЧАТЬ She had seen it with her sister. She had lived it with her mother—a woman who was adept at closing her eyes and her mind against all unpleasantness. No, she was determined to never feel anything for her husband other than friendship. She would not, like the other women in her family, fall victim to the heartache of unrequited love.

      Besides, at four-and-twenty, and after having been on the marriage mart for nigh on six years, the chances of Felicity making a love match were close to zero. She could not recall any man showing her particular attention, despite being the daughter of an earl and possessing a respectable dowry. She had lived her life overshadowed by the beauty of her mother and of her older sister, Emma, before she died.

      ‘I would like my own household,’ she said, in reply to her mother’s incredulous questions, ‘and, eventually, children.’

      She felt the heat building in her cheeks as she said the words. She had never admitted that dream out loud before, not even to Beanie, her old nursemaid, but at least her desire for children made this previously unthinkable decision more tolerable. She would wed—if her mother could find her someone suitable. Marriage had become the best of a poor set of options available to her.

      ‘Come and sit by me, Felicity.’

      Mama was clearly overjoyed, despite the further proof of her daughter’s lack of feminine attributes. She had long despaired over Felicity’s sad lack of looks, of her inability to make the best of what she had and of her consistent refusal to pander to the mores of society and the expectations of a young woman by seeking a husband. As time had passed, and as Felicity had aged, Lady Katherine had expected less and less of her. And that had suited Felicity perfectly.

      Until this past year.

      Felicity banished all thought of her new stepfather, Mr Quentin Farlowe: the sole reason for this drastic step. She could never admit that to her mother—the slightest criticism of the latest love of Lady Katherine’s life would be met with tears and reproaches and, ultimately, stubborn denial.

      Lady Katherine took Felicity’s hand, turning it over in her own lily-white hands.

      ‘Tsk. I declare, Felicity, if only you would use Bloom of Ninon on your skin, as I have begged you to do, time without number, you would have hands to be proud of. Like mine,’ she added, with satisfaction, as she extended her arm and splayed her plump, bejewelled fingers. ‘You will want your husband to be proud you wear his ring, will you not?’

      Will I? ‘Well, Mama? Will you arrange a marriage for me?’

      Lady Katherine sighed. ‘How I can have given birth to an unromantic soul like you, my darling, I have no idea. Even your dear Papa, God rest his soul, was more romantic, and that is not saying a great deal.’

      Felicity pondered this observation of her late father’s character. She had watched her parents’ marriage: her mother, hopelessly besotted; her father, benignly indulgent of his wife—as long as she did not interfere with his pleasures. Her mother had been deeply hurt by her father’s careless neglect and by his affaires. And now, as for her mother’s new husband... Felicity clamped down her stewing resentment. It seemed it was the way of aristocratic gentlemen—to pursue their own pleasures, including other women, without regard for the pain it caused.

      ‘Now, who is there?’ Lady Katherine tapped one finger against her perfect Cupid’s bow. ‘There’s young Avon. You’ve always been close, and he is heir to the duke.’

      ‘No! I beg your pardon, Mama, but I should prefer an older man. Not only is Dominic younger than me, he is like a brother. I could never marry him, even if he were ready to settle down, which he is not. No, I do not want young, or handsome, or popular. I want ordinary.’

       I cannot marry a man I might fall in love with. I will not risk that.

      She could not delude herself that her husband would love her. If neither Mama nor Emma, with all their beauty, could engender such feelings in the men they had loved, what chance did Felicity have?

      Felicity watched as her mother visibly swallowed her disappointment. ‘Well, it all sounds most unsatisfactory. However, I am sure you know your own mind, Felicity. You always have been an odd girl. Not like my poor, dear Emma...’ The all-too-ready tears brimmed over, spilling down Lady Katherine’s smooth cheeks. She heaved a sigh, raising a hand to her chest as it swelled. ‘Very well, Felicity. I shall consult with the duke. He will surely know of someone. I shall write to him immediately.’

      The Duke of Cheriton—Cousin Leo—was Felicity’s joint guardian, together with her mother, until such time as she married or reached the age of thirty, whichever came sooner.

      Felicity must hope he would find some pleasant, unremarkable gentleman with whom she might be content.

       Chapter Two

      ‘Stan. Good to see you.’

      Leo Beauchamp, Duke of Cheriton, clasped the hand of Richard Durant, Earl of Stanton, in a firm grip as they met in the elegant hall at Fernley Park in the County of Hampshire, Richard’s family seat.

      ‘Your Grace,’ Richard said, grinning, fully aware Leo hated his friends to stand on ceremony. ‘Have you come up from Cheriton today?’

      ‘No. Bath, as a matter of fact.’

      Richard raised his brows. ‘Bath? I had not thought you were in your dotage quite yet, old chap.’

      Leo cuffed Richard playfully on the ear. ‘Enough of your cheek, pup,’ he said, although he was only seven years older. ‘I was not there to partake of the waters.’

      ‘Care to enlighten me as to why you went there?’

      ‘I was summoned by my cousin Baverstock’s widow on family business.’

      Richard knit his brow. ‘Baverstock? Oh, yes...quite the beauty, his widow, if I remember rightly.’

      ‘Yes, she was...is... She remarried in April. Farlowe.’

      Richard whistled. ‘Went to welcome him into the family, did you?’

      Leo snorted. ‘Hardly. I tried to warn her off, but she was as determined to have him as he was to secure her. Her income alone will be enough to allow him to live like a nabob.’

      ‘Fortunate fellow, falling on his feet like that. I could wish Charles such luck. Mayhap a wealthy widow would remove him from my back.’

      Charles Durant, a distant cousin, was Richard’s heir, and regularly applied to Richard to settle his debts. Richard thrust aside his momentary qualm at the thought of Charles ever inheriting the title and the estates. He was fit and healthy and had every intention of living a long time.

      A footman opened the salon door as they approached and they dropped the subject as they joined Richard’s other guests—gathered for the first evening of a shooting party. It was an all-male event, as Richard’s mother was away from home, visiting an old friend.

      The messenger arrived as dusk fell on the second day of the shoot. The weather had remained СКАЧАТЬ