marrying you. Why tie yourself to a woman who doesn’t want you? Haven’t you experienced enough rejection from your own mother?
Was it the challenge? Part of his determination to marry Felicity was precisely because of her indifference. The other part... In his mind’s eye, he saw Felicity struggling against Farlowe’s grip. Could he really abandon her to life with that rogue?
She was well born, compliant and desirous of a family. Leo was convinced they would suit one another and Dominic—Leo’s twenty-year-old son and heir, who had arrived home earlier that afternoon—had even sung Felicity’s praises, assuring Richard there was more to her than might be apparent on the surface.
He thrust aside his doubts. There would be time enough once they were wed to discover what she feared. She would not be here if she was completely averse to him personally. Would she?
He took Felicity’s hands: fragile, the bones delicate in his grasp, the skin chilled. He felt a tremor wash through her, and squeezed reassuringly. Whatever her doubts, she was not shy, she had proved an entertaining conversationalist, and the way she had returned his kiss suggested she would be neither afraid nor reluctant to explore the physical side of marriage. That kiss! His loins stirred as his gaze dropped to her mouth without volition. He studied her full, shapely lips. She was not as insipid as he had first thought—Leo was right, she merely did not show to advantage beside her mother. She had a neat figure and her smile was infectious, lighting her whole face.
He was sure this marriage was the right decision for him, and that he and Felicity would rub along well together. His life was full and satisfying. He boasted a wide circle of like-minded friends with whom he shared an interest in a variety of sports. And, once he was wed, his mother would remove to the Lodge and he would happily spend more of his time at Fernley attending to the estate.
What he was less certain of was if it was the right decision for Felicity, standing quietly, her hands limp in his. Richard focused on her.
‘Lady Felicity, would you do me the very great honour of accepting my hand in marriage?’
Her features appeared carved out of rock. Not even an eyelash flickered.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Her voice was as colourless as her complexion. His jaw clenched. He moved closer. She stepped back. He tightened his grip and tugged until her body was pressed full length against his. Another tremor ran through her as he wrapped one arm around her waist. But she did not look away. She held his gaze as he lowered his lips to hers.
Her lips were sweet and soft and relaxed as he kissed her and they opened readily enough. She allowed him to explore her mouth but she made no attempt to kiss him in return. She merely permitted the kiss. Dissatisfied, Richard was about to tear his lips from hers when he registered her tension. It was as though he held a statue in his embrace. Despite his earlier thoughts, he wondered if she was, after all, wary of the intimate side of marriage.
‘Relax,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘This is meant to be enjoyable.’
He feathered butterfly-light kisses over her cheeks, her brows, along her jaw then nudged her head to one side to nibble at her earlobe. Suddenly, she exhaled with a whoosh, and the long rigid muscles down her back softened under his hands. Her body relaxed against his and she lifted her hands to his chest and pushed.
‘I am sorry. This is hard for me. I wonder...might we wait until after we are married? Someone might come in.’
‘We are newly betrothed, Felicity. We should be allowed a celebratory kiss, do you not think?’
Again, her expression eluded him as she wiped her hands down her skirts. Nerves? He would give much to understand what was going through her mind right now.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will wait until after the wedding. Speaking of which, I am minded to wed as soon as possible, if that is agreeable to you?’
He quashed the thought he was being unfair. He couldn’t escape the feeling that, if given time, Felicity would renege on her acceptance, and he was suddenly determined not to afford her the opportunity.
‘If you return to Bath tomorrow, I shall call in the Bishop’s Office at Wells on my way through and procure a Common Licence. We will not then have to wait for the banns to be read, and we could marry by the end of the week.’ His sense of fair play intervened, forcing him to add, with reluctance, ‘Or do you need more time to prepare?’
Felicity straightened. ‘No. That will not be necessary.’ Finally, there was a hint of conviction in her tone. ‘I shall go and inform Mama of our plans. Thank you for understanding,’
Understanding? Richard wasn’t sure he understood anything about his bride-to-be.
‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen.’
The hubbub of conversation faded as the assembled guests turned their attention to the plinth set up at one end of the huge ballroom to accommodate the musicians. That evening had seen the surrounding families invited to Cheriton Abbey for a ball. Felicity had dressed, with a little more attention to her appearance than usual, in her favourite evening gown of primrose silk, knowing all eyes would be on her at some point during the evening.
The duke stood impassively on the plinth, awaiting the undivided attention of his guests whilst Stanton cupped Felicity’s elbow and guided her to the front and side of the throng. Despite her fears, Felicity could not suppress a frisson of excitement at the thought of marrying such a man. He was in his element, here in the ballroom. It was unfortunate she was not.
Her mouth dried as Cousin Leo began to speak and heads turned in her direction. Her lips clung to her teeth, foiling her attempt to smile.
‘You might at least attempt to look happy.’
Stanton’s breath scorched her ear. Felicity inhaled, his spicy male scent pervading every cell of her body. She pushed her thick tongue between her lips and her teeth in an attempt to moisten them. She was vaguely aware of a murmured exchange between Stanton and Cousin Cecily, who stood nearby. A glass was thrust into her hand.
‘Here. Take a sip. It will help.’ A large hand settled—comfortingly—at the small of her back, its heat penetrating the delicate silk of her dress, warming her even as a shiver of awareness snaked down her spine.
She registered only an occasional word of Cousin Leo’s speech as she sipped the punch. She glanced sideways at Stanton and smiled her thanks just as Cousin Leo said, ‘I am sure you will all join me in wishing them every happiness in their life together.’
A low hum swept the room and then people were surrounding them, smiling, congratulating, shaking Stanton by the hand but also eyeing Felicity: speculating, slightly incredulous. She stood tall, steadying her nerves, aware this was but a tiny taste of the attention she would experience in London. She had a choice to make; a choice that might inform the future of this union with Stanton.
She could either shrivel or she could bloom.
She inhaled, braced her shoulders and curved her lips as she responded to their many well-wishers, grateful for the comforting presence of Stanton by her side, deflecting much of the attention away from her, protecting her, until people were distracted by the musicians tuning their instruments.
‘Well, Fliss. It’s official now. You are to be a married lady.’ Felicity spun round in delighted response to the familiar voice in her ear.
‘Dominic! I did not see you there.’ She lowered her voice. ‘It still feels unreal. I never wanted to marry...oh! I dare say I should not have said that.’ She glanced round apprehensively.
Stanton, engaged in conversation with Cecily, appeared not to have heard.
Dominic, Lord Avon, laughed. He was a younger version of his father: tall, elegant and suave with the same black hair and