“Hear me now.” He held her firmly in his arms, determined to make her see. “I admire you. I think the world of you. I do not wish you to be a ‘good wife’. I don’t wish you to be anyone but yourself.”
She swallowed. “Truly?”
“Truly. I see now that any choice but you would have resulted in my life being one long stretch of expected paths. Of simple choices. You are right. There will be derision and, possibly, scandal. But damn them all to hell. You and I together can overcome any situation if we put our minds to it.”
Suddenly, the tears that had glistened in her eyes overflowed and a single tear slipped down her cheek.
“What?” he asked softly. “What did I say?”
“You and I together,” she replied. “To hear those words fills my heart with joy.”
“We are husband and wife, Felicity, and we must behave like it.”
“William,” Felicity began passionately. “I lo—“
“Do you know what is happening?” His mother’s voice cut through the building intensity of the smaller room and through whatever Felicity had been about to confess.
William fought the urge to tell her to get out.
He loved his mother but she had terrible timing. He felt sure he knew what Felicity had been about to say and he wished to hear it more than anything in the world.
“Mother, now is not an appropriate moment.”
“Appropriate?” repeated his mother. “Appropriate? The word is perfectly apt. My presence is absolutely appropriate as you must be told that your wife is now, once again, the subject of every tongue. As are you. My God, William, a duel?”
“Yes, mother,” he replied quietly, unable to tear his gaze away from Felicity’s. “A duel.”
“There will not be a duel,” Felicity said firmly.
“Of course there won’t,” his mother snapped. “Not over you. Not over a bit of baggage so damaged by her family that you bring more scandal by the moment.”
“Mother,” he gritted. “I called Eversly out for speaking ill of her.”
“Will you call me out, too, then?” his mother demanded.
“No, I’ll send you to Yorkshire.”
“Your own mother?” His mother lifted a hand to her bosom in ill-timed horror. “Over her?”
Small minds and little people, he thought. “Mother, I would like to see you prove yourself better than the rest of society but it seems you will not.”
That stopped her short. “William—“
“You have barely made yourself gracious to Felicity and she has met your veiled hostility with tact and calm. Not once has she been provoked.” He shook his head sadly. “Who is the lady here?”
His mother stilled. “William, how can you say such things?”
His heart ached.
“Please, please do not argue,” Felicity begged. “I will not be a wound between you.”
His mother whipped towards her. “You cannot fool me with your sweet words. You cannot be as good as you seem. Not with the bad blood—“
“Mother,” William cut in quietly.
The tone of his voice stopped his mother.
“I love you,” he said, his throat tightening as he stared at the woman who had brought him into this world. “But I wish I could be proud of you, too.”
Chapter 12
Felicity stared out the morning room window, her whole body heavy with grim acceptance. Rain splattered the pane, leaving the morning room bathed in a mournful gray.
Lady Melbourne, all Felicity’s sisters and Mary sat on the various furnishings, making pretense at sipping tea.
“What is to be done?” Mary asked looking as if she had recently been in a coaching accident.
Lady Melbourne and Felicity’s sisters had not gone home after the last of the guests had left.
They’d all stayed up. Dawn was now on the horizon and William was nowhere to be seen.
After the scene with his mother he had strode off, vaguely promising he would do nothing rash.
He had promised.
Now, all she could do was wait.
“We prepare ourselves for the worst,” said Pen, her face a mask of acceptance. She had clearly realized that the scandalous adventures of their father could not be as easily swept away as they had hoped.
“But we hope for the best,” added Lady Melbourne.
Mary blinked her light brown lashes, stunned and worried for her brother. “Nothing like this has ever happened to us.”
“Your brother has fought duels before,” pointed out Lady Melbourne as she sipped again from the pale green teacup.
“But not over a family member,” Mary breathed. “Not over a wife.”
“Since he has never been married before, I suppose that is understandable,” quipped Gus, her eyes narrowing.
George and Marianne remained quiet but they, too, narrowed their eyes.
Mary gaped. “I do apologize. I’m simply at sea. And a bit worried. I don’t usually know beforehand that he will duel.”
The tension in the room eased.
George nodded. “Of course you’re worried. He’s a lovely brother.”
“He won’t duel.” Felicity said firmly.
“Why do you say so, my dear?” asked Lady Melbourne.
“Because he promised me.”
“Men don’t always keep their promises,” Lady Melbourne said.
Felicity stared out the window as if she could will her husband to return home. “He will.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” demanded Mary.
“Because of me,” the dowager marchioness said as she entered the room.
Felicity tensed at the sight of the woman who had unleashed such unkindness upon her.
“Lady Melbourne,” acknowledged her mother-in-law.
Lady Melbourne frowned slightly. “Lady Marksborough.“
“I have been thinking a great deal about what was said a few hours ago,” Lady Marksborough began.
Felicity wanted to hate the woman but she couldn’t. Not when she knew that her mother-in-law loved her family and was trying to protect it as Felicity often wished her father had done.
Perhaps Lady Marksborough could have been kinder, but her cruelty had been out of fear for her children.
“I have been a vicious and rather shallow person as of late,” Lady Marksborough suddenly said.
Felicity blinked.
The others grew so silent the sound of passing coaches filled the room.
Her mother-in-law drew in a long breath then said calmly, “I have clung to my anger that he was forced to marry you, Felicity. I have longed to see you as a bad influence on my daughters.”
Pen bristled.
“But when I think of the time you have spent with them, you have always encouraged them to be well-spoken, good of thought and superior in action,” Lady Marksborough admitted. “You aren’t the sort of lady that sits in the drawing room complaining of the ills of society. You do something. I’ve seen the way you’ve taken an interest in my son’s career. How you long to help him. And yet, I have clung to my initial view of you and the general outlook of society upon your family.”
“General society is for fools,” drawled Lady Melbourne.
“I freely admit that I have been one.” Lady Marksborough shook her head as if castigating herself. “It is not easy. But I cannot have my son being ashamed of me.”
“Mama!” protested Mary. “William would never.”
“Oh, he would,” corrected Lady Marksborough. “And to my own shame, I have given him cause.”
“You love your children,” said Felicity.
Her mother-in-law inclined her head. “It is the only excuse I have for my actions.”
“It is a strong one,” acknowledged Felicity, daring to hope.
“Can we begin again, my dear?” Lady Marksborough asked.
“I would like that.”
Relief softened the older woman’s face. “Shall we all wait then, for William?”
“Yes,” Felicity agreed. “We will meet him as unified a front as he would hope.”
“What an experience that will be for him,” observed Lady Melbourne.
And so, despite her fear and tension that regardless of his promise, William was bleeding in a field just outside of town, she felt a measure of relief that, at least, she and her mother-in-law were no longer to be enemies.