The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory
your own discomfiture. A carriage shall be at your disposal at all times, you have only to say the word. Now upstairs and unpack, the pair of you, for we have a guest for dinner.’
‘Oh?’ Lydia clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Is it someone I know?’
‘No, a young man I met only t’other day, but he is very agreeable, I assure you. He will set all the young ladies’ hearts aflutter this summer, I have not a doubt.’
‘Oh, who?’ cried Lydia. ‘Do tell me, my love!’
Sir James kissed her nose.
‘He is a young nobleman. Rich, handsome and most clearly in want of a wife.’ He looked from Felicity to Lady Souden, his smile growing. ‘It is the new Earl of Rosthorne.’
Felicity’s hands tightened on her reticule. What cruel trick was fate playing upon her, to force the earl upon her notice so soon? She cast an anguished look at Lydia, who attempted a little laugh as she turned to her husband.
‘R-Rosthorne? Well, bless me! How is this, my dear?’
‘He is newly arrived in town,’ explained Sir James. ‘We met to discuss the arrangements for looking after his Highness’s guests at the forthcoming Peace Celebrations and he struck me as a very pleasant young man. I thought it would please you to meet him, my love.’
‘It—it does,’ stammered Lydia. ‘It is a little sudden, that is all. Having just arrived…’
‘Well, he is not expecting any formal ceremony. Just a snug little dinner, I told him, so off you go and put on one of those pretty gowns of yours, my love. You are required to look charming tonight, nothing more.’
‘Then perhaps Lady Souden should come upstairs and rest for a little while,’ suggested Felicity, edging towards the door.
With another slightly hysterical laugh Lydia allowed Felicity to lead her away, leaving Sir James still chuckling to himself.
‘I am sorry, Fee,’ she whispered as they went up the stairs. ‘I had no idea James would invite Rosthorne to the house!’
Felicity sighed. ‘It was inevitable, I suppose, but I did not expect it to be today.’
Lydia squeezed her hand. ‘You must not worry, my love, you need not see him. This house has so many rooms the earl could be living here and not know of your existence!’
Despite Lady Souden’s assurances Felicity found herself growing ever more anxious as the hour approached for Lord Rosthorne’s arrival. For five years she had done everything in her power to remain hidden from Nathan Carraway and the thought that he would shortly be in the same house terrified her. Not least because she had an overwhelming desire to see him again.
It was dangerous, but she could not resist. A few minutes after Lydia had gone down to the drawing room, Felicity slipped out of the little chamber that Lady Souden had decreed should be set aside as her own private sitting room. The entrance hall of Souden House extended up to the roof and a glazed dome provided natural light for the ornate staircase that rose from a central point to the half-landing before splitting into two flights that curved around the side walls to the first floor and the main reception rooms. From there a narrower stair curled up to the second floor where a small balcony overlooked the hall below. During past seasons Felicity had often brought her young charges on to this balcony when Sir James was entertaining and they had spent many a happy hour watching the arrival of the guests. Now she decided to use it for her own purposes.
Feeling very much like an errant schoolchild, she crept towards the edge of the balcony and sank down. Felicity knew from experience that visitors rarely raised their eyes beyond the ornately decorated first floor. Her dark-grey gown blended well with the shadows and through the balusters she had an excellent view of the front door and entrance hall as well as the first rise of the staircase. The long-case clock on the landing below chimed the hour. It was followed almost immediately by the sounds of an arrival. Felicity knew a sudden, irrational desire to laugh—trust Nathan to be so punctual, it was the soldier in him.
Then he was there. They were in the same house, the same space. She leaned forward, straining to see him. Her heart turned over as he walked into the hall, but his curlybrimmed beaver hat obscured her view of his face. She had never seen him in anything but his scarlet regimentals and thought him handsome in uniform but now, seeing his tall, athletic figure in the plain black swallowtailed coat, she almost fainted with a wild yearning to run down the stairs and throw herself into his arms. She stifled it, reminding herself of how he had betrayed her. She hated him, did she not? She had vowed she was done with him for ever. Yet here she was, hiding in the shadows, desperate to see the man who had broken her heart.
He spoke to the footman as he handed over his hat; she could not make out the words but his warm, deep voice awoke a memory and sent a tingle down her spine. She noticed that his brown hair was no longer tied back but cut short so that it just curled over his collar. He turned to ascend the stair and she was momentarily dazzled by his snowy white neckcloth and waistcoat. As he lifted his head she put her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. A disfiguring scar cut through his left eyebrow and down across his cheek. His face was leaner and his mouth, which she remembered as almost constantly smiling, was turned down, the lines at each side more pronounced. She had expected him to look a little older, but the severity of his countenance shocked her.
Felicity had followed his career as closely as she could. She knew Nathan’s regiment had been involved in several bloody battles so she should not have been surprised to see he had been wounded, but the scar made it suddenly very real.
Do not be so foolish, she told herself. You should rejoice that he has been punished for the way he treated you! She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. It had been her uncle’s way to call down fury and retribution upon the heads of those that had offended him. But she was not like her uncle and the thought of Nathan’s suffering sliced into her heart. She stared again at the tall figure ascending the stairs.
Look up, she pleaded silently. Look at me.
As Nathan reached the top of the first flight of stairs he paused. Felicity’s heart was thudding against her ribs: if he raised his head now he would see her! For one joyous, frightening, panic-filled moment she thought he would do just that, but then he was turning to greet his host and Sir James’s bluff good-humoured voice was heard welcoming him.
‘Come along up, my lord, do not hesitate out there! Here is my lady wife waiting to make your acquaintance…’
The drawing room door was closed, the voices became nothing more than a low drone. Felicity slumped down, her head bowed. She had seen him. He was alive and apart from that scar on his face he looked well. A burst of laughter reached her: he even sounded happy.
And he was not aware of her existence.
Hot tears pricked her eyelids and she berated herself for her stupidity. It had been foolish to come to London, knowing he would be here. She should have known it would only bring pain. She dragged herself back to her room. It was senseless to think of him, laughing and talking with Lydia and Sir James in the gilded splendour of the dining room below. She would be best to put him out of her mind and go to sleep. That was the sensible thing to do.
But when the Earl of Rosthorne left the house several hours later, the silent grey figure was again watching from the upper balcony.
Having lost his first wife in childbirth, Sir James was morbidly anxious for Lydia. Felicity was aware of this and resolutely stifled her own misgivings as she offered to accompany Lady Souden about the town. Lydia’s delighted acceptance of her company was at least some comfort.
‘Oh, I am so pleased! I knew how it would be, once you saw how exciting it is going to be in town this summer. I only wish we could have been here for the procession in honour of King Louis last month, but there is so much to look forward to; it will be so entertaining.’
‘I am sure it will,’ said Felicity bravely.