Felicity nibbled her lower lip, her own nerves flaring again. “You don’t think I should suddenly run to Venice do you? You’re not worried?”

“Of course I’m worried!” Pen replied with frustration. “But Venice? No. I think Gus could do it. Even Marianne, but you, George and me? We’re English thru and thru. We love this land and the society it hosts.”

Felicity raised her glass. “Too true.”

The door burst open and Gus bustled through, her reddish-blonde hair flying out of her coif. She pounced on the bed and grinned at them. “So, tonight is the night!”

“Gus,” Pen warned.

Gus only blinked innocently.

“You know nothing more about it than I do, Augusta,” Felicity said, her insides feeling decidedly wild at the thought of what tonight would bring.

Gus pouted her lips with exaggerated coquettishness. “Don’t I?”

“No,” Felicity replied through gritted teeth.


She giggled. “The blacksmith’s son might say differently.”

“Augusta Drake, if you’ve given your virtue to—“

Gus held up her hand. “Should it matter if it be lofty lord or lowly peasant?”

“Do not be grandiose!” Pen exclaimed in horror. “Not about this.”

Gus sighed. “Alas, I am virgo intact. The poor boy was too frightened to go through with it in the end. I need a man, don’t you know.”

“You need a swift kick to your bum,” Felicity said.

Gus laughed. “Probably. You will tell us all about it. Won’t you?”

Felicity laughed. “I suppose. Not everything, but you know I believe in the importance of knowledge.”

“Oh good,” Gus replied happily. “No one has been able to sufficiently sate my curiosity.”

“Your curiosity will see you dead,” retorted Pen.

“Pen, how ever were you born into this family?” asked Gus, rolling her eyes. “You’re too good.”

Pen tsked. “Felicity is good.”

Gus laughed. “Not that good.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh come, Felicity,” urged Gus as she sprawled dramatically on the bed. “Admit it. You’re as naughty as me in your head. You’ve just had time to practice keeping it to yourself.”

It was so tempting to tell her sister there wasn’t a jot of truth in the claim, but she couldn’t. “I will admit to being naughtier than Penelope.”

Pen gasped.

Felicity laughed. “Oh Pen, do not fear. I’ll never cause a scandal.”

Pen hated scandals. Perhaps the most out of all the sisters. She’d never gotten the knack of not being dreadfully hurt by the derision of others.

And when one was surrounded by as much scandal as the Drake sisters were, it was important to achieve such a knack.

“That’s what you say now,” Gus pointed out lightly. “But what about in five years, when we’re all sorted out, your husband has grown a stomach, and is always with his mistresses! Perhaps, you’ll cause as great a scandal as Lady Adelaide Lyon!”

Pen shuddered. Visibly.

Felicity groaned. “I’ll never be as mad as she or cause such a scandal.”

“Oh no?” Gus asked, batting her lashes.

Felicity winked. “I’d never get caught. She virtually proclaimed to the world that she was Papa’s lover.”

Pen groaned.

It was one of the more infamous scandals around their father. The poor woman had been obsessed. Finally, her husband had taken her to Ireland to recover.

Some had even felt sorry for their Papa. For Lady Lyon had been a great deal of trouble.

When one was the most famous poet of the age, one did attract all sorts.

One thing Felicity knew, she’d never act so rashly. That was why she was absolutely going to marry Lord Marksborough, Marquess of Talbot. She wasn’t going to mind that he saw his stoop as a sacrifice. Besides, it was quite nice of him to come up to the mark.

Trumbold would have been a disaster.

A knock sounded on the door and Lady Melbourne entered.

“Ah,” the lady smiled. “I should have known you’d have an entourage.”

“I’m surprised George and Marianne are elsewhere if you must know,” replied Felicity.

“They are out in the hall. I caught them eavesdropping and shooed them. Really, I should shoo all your sisters away just now, but I think it best we be honest with each other.”

Lady Melbourne leaned back out toward the hall. “Come along then, ladies. I know you’ve not gone far.”

There was a titter of laughter and then Marianne and George scuttled in, joining Gus on the bed.

Felicity glanced at all her sisters and her eyes prickled with tears. They’d always been together. Always. Now, she was going away from them.

Lady Melbourne leaned on her cane. “You’ve made a wonderful match, my dear. I promised you my help.”

“And you’ve given it.”

Growing serious, Lady Melbourne said, “And if you ever need it again, you shall have it.”

“Why should I need your help?” Felicity asked, feeling a hint of trepidation.

Twirling her hand in thought, Lady Melbourne pronounced, “The vagaries of marriage, my dear girl. The vagaries of marriage.”

Felicity shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“If you ever find yourself in a situation like your father—“

“Or Lady Lyon,” whispered Gus.

Felicity waited for Lady Melbourne to roll her eyes but she did not.

In fact, Lady Melbourne nodded. “Exactly. You must promise to come to me and I will help you.”

“I will never do anything—“

“Never is a dangerous word,” Lady Melbourne warned carefully. “And your blood runs hot, my dear.”

There it was. The idea that she and her sisters were tainted. Tainted by generations of bad blood. There was no escaping it.

So, she swallowed then gave a firm nod of agreement. “I promise.”

Lady Melbourne suddenly looked very relieved and she bustled over to the tray of wine and crystal glasses that she had sent up hours before.

“Then let us drink a toast.”

“To your doom,” intoned Gus.

Marianne laughed. “Never! Felicity will have him dancing to her tune in no time.”

“To love,” said Pen. “Surely, love will grow.”

George snorted. “Tosh. Who needs love? A good estate with beautiful horses will do!”

Lady Melbourne poured the glasses and handed them out. “To wisdom. To a woman who will be wise enough, not just to catch her husband, but to keep him.”

To keep him.

They all raised their glasses but Felicity felt her spirits waver because deep down, she knew she wanted to keep Lord Marksborough. She wanted to make him see that she was better than any of those other silly candidates he might have chosen. As she lifted her wine to her lips, allowing the warmth to buoy her spirits, she promised herself that somehow she’d win him in truth, and not just by hook or by crook as she had already done.

Chapter 8

It was remarkable how quickly one could be married when one was a cousin to the Bishop of London. They’d had to wait until quite late in the evening but William had been able to get the license with satisfactory swiftness.

From the time he had left her to the time he’d come back to collect her had been less than twelve hours and, in that time, he’d managed to acquire something just for her.

The coach rumbled to a halt before William’s townhome, the last vestiges of the summer sunset falling behind London’s ever present, smoke-tinged sky.

He glanced over at his wife.

Wife!

By God, he could scarcely believe it. Despite any reservations he might have held, in her presence now, he felt certain that he’d made the right decision.

Felicity was a beautiful and intelligent woman. A woman who would give him beautiful and intelligent children.

She’d been calm and capable during the hasty ceremony. Once again, she’d carried herself off with admirable aplomb as though their marriage had been planned from the cradle.

He quite liked that about her. There was no silliness to her. No fainting fits. No feminine alarm.

In many ways, she reminded him of a man.

Well, not too much like a man.

Her body was decidedly feminine but the way she looked at the world was so much more. He had a strong suspicion her father’s education had done that. And he found himself wondering if all ladies might be so much more if given the chance.

The coach door swung open and he jumped down then held his hand out for her.

She took it again, no wavering, and followed him out.

With little evidence of any nerves, she lifted her violet-blue gaze to his home. She smiled.

“You like it?” he asked, surprised to find that he cared.

She nodded. “Indeed, I do.”

It was, in fact, a palace that had been built some hundred years before. But many nobles these days were choosing modern new homes either in Regent’s Park or west towards Hyde Park.

He guided her up the steps and into the foyer.

The butler, Sims, waited for William’s things and he bowed, gaping slightly.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had not sent message to his mother or the servants what he had been up to this day.

In fact, he had left Felicity this morning in such an absorbed state that he had thought of nothing but her and his impending marriage all day.

Which was not like him at all. How had such a thing occurred?

Obsession was not a trait he was given to. But he had forgotten entirely about everything but her as he’d gotten the license and arranged for her gift.

When he had been home to change, his mother and sisters had been out.

He suddenly realized he might have made a very bad mistake.

William turned towards his bride who was beaming, ready to tell her that he had been foolish but then he recalled that his mother and sisters were out again. They had likely departed some time ago for the Countess of Wystead’s ball.

He drew in a deep breath, grateful that he had avoided a terribly awkward and possibly painful interchange.