A Talent for Trouble (14 page)

“I don't believe that's necessary.”

Jeffrey continued as if she hadn't spoken. “What in the world were you thinking, going into a pub on your own? I mean, it's evident you've decided to make some changes in your life ever since Reverend Fraser got married, but I don't think spending time in a pub—especially one on Mott Street—is exactly the way you should go about it.”

“I didn't plan on going into a pub when I started out today.” Felicia took a moment to steer Thor back to their side of the street before she shot a glance at Jeffrey, who was watching her with one brow raised. “If you must know, I only went to
Mott Street to drop off some of my old clothing at the Rogue Theater.”

“And the members of that theater convinced you to go have a drink with them?”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Those gentlemen were too busy trying on my clothing when I left them to even think about extending me a drink.”

Jeffrey grinned. “I'm not even going to ask why that occurred.”

“It does sound odd, but they're soon to be performing a farce, which I think is why they were so pleased with my clothing, but I digress. When I got back to Thor, he turned obstinate and refused to move, and in the past, if I walked away from him and allowed him to believe I was going to abandon him, he was much more apt to cooperate when I finally returned to his side.”

“So you went strolling down Mott Street in order to get Thor to turn from obstinate to accommodating? Have you lost your mind?”

Felicia lifted her chin. “I've been traveling around the city, and the seedier parts of the city at that, for years. I've never run into a problem. In fact, most of the time it appeared to me that people, especially gentlemen, went out of their way to extend me a wide berth.”

Jeffrey simply stared at her for a moment, the intensity of his gaze causing her to return her attention to the road—not that she really needed to do so, considering Thor was seemingly running out of energy and was now barely moving.

“Felicia, I do adore you, and I hope you'll remember that when I tell you that the reason gentlemen gave you such a wide berth was because, well, given your peculiar fashions over the past four years, I'm afraid you've caused people to believe you're a little insane.”

Her lips began to curl. “I didn't look that bad.”

“I'm afraid you did. But now, since you've abandoned those atrocious fashions, and you're wearing hats—well, when you haven't misplaced them—that allow a person to see your face, you've once again become the beautiful lady you were always meant to be. That means no more traveling around to the seedy parts of the city unescorted.”

Tears caused her vision to go a little misty. “I do think that's quite the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

Jeffrey placed his hand over hers. “I'm sure you're mistaken, but that's neither here nor there. Getting back to the pub, what possessed you to go in there?”

“It was all very innocent.”

“I somehow doubt that, but continue.”

All traces of tears disappeared in a flash. “While I was waiting for Thor to come to the belief I'd abandoned him, I saw an elderly gentleman get his cane stuck in a hole, and then he stumbled and fell to one knee. I couldn't leave him like that, could I?”

“If you were on Mott Street, certainly.”

“Anyway,” Felicia continued, “I went to his assistance, and then he insisted on purchasing me a drink after I helped him into the pub. It would have been rude to disappoint him, and he was looking at me ever so hopefully that I just couldn't refuse him, and . . . that's where Grayson found me.”

“He just happened to be in the same derelict pub that you found yourself in?”

“No, as I told you and Mother—although it seems you might not have been paying attention to me—Grayson had been following me.”

Right then and there, Jeffrey turned into the consummate older brother. “It appears I'm going to have to have a little chat with Grayson and find out exactly why he would be following you around.” His eyes narrowed. “Don't think I haven't
noticed that he watches you as if you're a tasty treat he wants to snap up.”

She would not allow herself to consider why that notion caused pleasure to course over her. “He most certainly does not.”

Jeffrey's eyes narrowed another fraction. “You watch him the same way.”

Felicia opened her mouth, intent on arguing that ridiculous point, but then snapped it shut. Did she look at Grayson as if he were a tasty treat? Granted, he was incredibly handsome, and his good looks did cause a person to look at him every now and again, but Theodore Wilder was incredibly handsome as well, yet she knew for certain she'd never looked at him as a tasty treat.

What was it about Grayson that caused her to watch him so consistently? It had to be something other than his looks.

Maybe it was simply because he'd come to her rescue more than once, which, if she were honest with herself, made him incredibly appealing, almost as appealing as . . . cake. She adored cake, especially chocolate—loved the taste of it, and it definitely was a treat—but did she look at Grayson the same way?

“If I wasn't certain he'd just put your life in danger, and certain it's hardly appropriate for any gentleman to follow you about the city, I'd almost encourage you to further your association with him.”

Felicia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“He suits you, strange as that may seem, suits you in a manner Reverend Fraser never did.”

All lingering thoughts of cake evaporated in a split second. “I thought Reverend Fraser would suit me well because he possesses such a strong faith.”

“You don't need to set your sights on a minister to ensure you end up with a gentleman of faith, Felicia. Why, if that were the case, there'd be very few Christian ladies actually married.”

“I don't think Grayson possesses any faith.”

There. She'd said it, out loud. She hadn't even realized that had been bothering her, but evidently it had been lurking in the back of her mind all along, mixed in with her somewhat concerning attraction for the man.

“You might be right, but have you even asked him what he believes?”

“Well, no.”

“Then I wouldn't simply make the assumption he has no faith. Many people, myself included, aren't comfortable discussing matters of faith on a regular basis. Perhaps he's the type who just keeps his thoughts about God to himself.”

“But . . . he's no Reverend Fraser.”

“It would be difficult for any gentleman to live up to the esteemed Reverend Fraser, but the man is no longer available, and forgive me for being direct—he was never meant for you. You would have driven the poor man batty within weeks of spending any great amount of time alone together.

“Miss Hampton, or rather, Mrs. Fraser, is a demure young lady, whereas you . . . you've played a rather convincing role of it over the past few years, but you're not demure, Felicia. Even though you've disguised it well, within you lurks the soul of an adventurous lady, and you'll never be happy until you embrace that.”

While her brother had gained white hair with age, he'd evidently lost part of his mind in the process.

“Is that why you think I'd do well to cultivate an alliance with Grayson? Do you find him an adventurous gentleman?”

“I never suggested you form an alliance with the gentleman—especially since, again, he seems to be responsible for placing you in danger. However, I do think he's an adventurous sort, or perhaps a better term would be
worldly
, and I have the impression that at heart he's a good man.”

Thor took that moment to turn on his own accord into a dirt
alley, effectively ending the conversation when Felicia realized they'd somehow reached home.

A groom ran out to greet them, and much to Felicia's amusement, after she climbed down from the cart with Jeffrey's assistance, Thor, rather than balking at the groom taking the reins, allowed the man to lead him away, his ears drooping and his demeanor forlorn.

She smiled and took the arm Jeffrey offered her, walking with him up the pebbled path toward the house. “I bet Mother beat us home,” she said, pausing before the front door.

“I'm sure she did, and I'm sure she's used the time alone to craft a suitable lecture to give you once we step inside.” He grinned. “Perhaps I should bid you a good day now and avoid all the drama that's sure to erupt.”

“Don't be a coward,” she said, gripping his arm tighter and prodding him forward, pausing again when the front door opened and, surprisingly, Agatha stepped out.

“It's about time. Your mother got home ages ago, and I must say, she's in an unusual frame of mind.”

Felicia dropped her hold on Jeffrey and stepped forward, giving Agatha a quick hug and then releasing her as a grin stole over her face. “Thor was being difficult.”

“Of course he was,” Agatha said with a returning grin before she turned to Jeffrey. “It's good to see you, Mr. Murdock.”

“It's lovely to see you as well, Miss Watson.”

It really was unfortunate Agatha's affections were firmly centered on Zayne. She would have made a more than excellent sister-in-law.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Felicia asked as she took Agatha's arm and Jeffrey took her other, and together they stepped through the door and into the house, stopping for a moment in the entranceway.

For a second, Agatha's eyes went stormy, but then she blinked
and the storminess disappeared. “Gloria Beckett came to pay my mother a visit, and the two of them immediately turned their attention to talk of the upcoming ball. I soon found I needed an escape to, ah, more peaceful surroundings, so I thought I'd come over here and see if you were home.”

Here was further proof that Agatha had not completely abandoned her feelings for Zayne and was, indeed, bothered by his impending departure.

“However,” Agatha continued with a cheerful grin, “when I arrived, I found your mother in an agitated state, but since she wouldn't divulge to me the reason for her mutters, of which there have been many, I'm afraid I have no idea what has sent her into such a tizzy.” She frowned. “What is that smell?”

Jeffrey laughed. “I'm afraid it's my sister.” He shook his head. “I was thankful we were in an open pony cart. Otherwise, well, I'm afraid her scent might have upset my tender stomach.”

Felicia glared at him. “And here I was just thinking how delightful you'd become with age, when in reality, you're still the annoying little boy who used to torment me endlessly.”

She switched her attention back to Agatha, who was staring at her with what could only be described as pure horror on her beautiful face. “It's only a bit of ale, Agatha—nothing to warrant any concern.”

“I'm not concerned about the ale, although I'm sure that's a riveting story. Why have you abandoned your lovely new wardrobe and gone to back to your former style?”

Honestly, her wardrobe hadn't been
that
revolting.

“This isn't my gown, Agatha. Arabella lent it to me because my gown was soaked with ale and other nasty things—mostly blood.” When Agatha's eyes grew huge, she hurried to say, “But it wasn't mine.”

“Thank goodness for that, and thank goodness that isn't one of your old gowns. I was worried we were going to have to start
from scratch.” Agatha considered Felicia for a moment. “Why does that gown look so familiar?”

“It's the one Arabella wore the night the two of you got carted off to jail.”

Jeffrey blinked at Agatha. “I never heard about you and Arabella getting carted off to jail.”

“I'm not surprised,” Agatha said. “My parents, along with Arabella's, have done their best to keep the matter hushed up, but I assure you, it was all a huge misunderstanding—as was the first time I landed in jail.”

Felicia released a dramatic sigh. “I've never even had the pleasure of landing in jail once, let alone twice.”

“Don't let Mother hear you say that,” Jeffrey muttered. “And speaking of Mother, I suppose, being the wonderful older brother I am, I should go pave the way for you—especially since, from what Agatha said, she's still fit to be tied. Where is she? In the drawing room?”

“She's in the ballroom,” Agatha said. “I think she needed a large space that would allow her plenty of room to pace back and forth as she mutters things like ‘I'm a horrible mother' and ‘Where did I go wrong?'”

Jeffrey grinned. “Well, this should be a cheerful experience.” With that, he strode to the curving staircase and bounded up it, leaving Felicia standing in the entranceway with Agatha.

“I don't envy him breaking the ice with Mother.”

“I can't say I do either,” Agatha replied. “I don't believe I've ever seen your mother quite like this. Do you know that while I was waiting for you, she consumed three cups of tea and four pieces of cake?” Her eyes began to sparkle. “When I set down the plate of cake she thrust at me—before I'd taken one bite, I might add—she absconded with it.”

“She's always been a nervous eater, but perhaps I can hope the cake has put her in a better frame of mind, or maybe caused
her to forget some of the more distressing things she learned today.”

“She muttered something about a pub, Chinese men, and Theodore setting a guard to watch you.”

“Good heavens, I forgot all about Mr. Blackheart.” Felicia walked back to the door and opened it. Sure enough, there was Mr. Blackheart, sitting on his horse and staring, unblinking it seemed, at the house. She sent him a nod and closed the door. “He's right outside.”

Agatha arched one delicate brow. “Are you going to explain to me what happened? I fear I must tell you that when we heard you'd returned, your mother discontinued muttering just long enough to instruct me to get all the pesky details out of you.”