Dangerous Joy (34 page)

Felicity was tempted to drop the burden to shatter on the floor, but that would just prove she was a thoughtless, headstrong rebel, so she obediently marched off with it.

The dining room was nearly ready for the evening, with pleasing arrangements of foods on all surfaces. Felicity thumped the bowl down in a space, thumped it down rather harder than she'd intended, so some oranges bounced out and onto the floor.

As she scrambled after them, she heard Beth enter the room.

Beth placed a large bowl of nuts on the table and captured the farthest escapee. "Now," she said, putting the orange back in the bowl, "tell me what the dreadful man has done to you now."

"You're as bad as he is! I don't suppose you would have let yourself be seduced at fifteen, would you, no matter how lonely you were? And even if you were the type to be seduced-wild and wanton defines it, I'm sure-you would never have had the opportunity because you stayed where you were supposed to be, sewing samplers!"

"I was under such handicaps," Beth replied mildly. "I was raised in a girl's school."

`Raised?"

"Yes. I don't think I went anywhere without a companion until after my marriage."

"Nowhere?" Felicity was almost speechless. She knew her upbringing had been unconventional, but she had not imagined restrictions such as this. No wonder Miles was surprised she'd had the chance to be led astray. "Is that normal?"

"It isn't so strange among the upper classes, and the school was in a town, where one must be more careful. In the country, young ladies have more freedom, but I gather you had the freedom of the whole county."

Felicity pounced. "Freedom! That's the word. And why should we not all be free?"

"Perhaps because freedom is dangerous to those unprepared for it. Do we let young children go just where they wish?"

"I was not a child."

"I thought you were. Was not that the point? And a neglected child, at that. Your freedom would have presented no hazard if you'd not felt that the attention of a man, any man, was of value. And, of course, if you had been well informed about the dance between the sexes, and the way it is played."

Felicity was feeling bludgeoned. "Are you saying that women shouldn't be free? It seemed to me at times that Mary Wollstonecraft was saying women are feeble creatures and, like children, must be protected for their own good. I find that a disgusting sentiment."

Beth's eyes lit. "Let's have tea as we discuss it. I think," she said, as she led the way to the library, "Mrs. Wollstonecraft meant that many women, as they are now, are not ready for freedom since their minds are uneducated and their bodies not strong. Also, they have not been trained to accept the responsibilities that go with rights."

"And whose fault is any of that?" Felicity demanded, throwing herself into the solid library chair that had briefly been her prison.

"Their parents`. Often mothers just as much as fathers. Mothers have a terrible tendency to encourage their daughters' vanity. Do you remember your parents?" Beth rang the bell, and by the time the footman came to take the request for tea, Felicity was sharing her faint memories of her parents.

Beth listened, then said, "It sounds as if your parents would have raised you in a more conventional way."

"Probably."

"Would you have preferred it?" Beth took a seat close by.

Felicity thought of resisting this session, which was clearly intended to be educational. She wasn't sure any of these people had the right to educate her.

But then she saw the foolishness of that. Education is never without worth, and since the shadowy time before her parents' death she'd lacked a sensible person to talk to at length. Recently, there had been Miles, but their situation was tangled with too many other threads for it to be rational.

Beth, perhaps Beth she could trust.

"I would have liked to have had a more normal family life," she said, untying her bonnet and dropping it to the floor. "And I suppose it might have been better to have been properly educated by someone who made me learn the things I didn't want to learn." Then she grinned. "But it was a fine life for all of that, free to ride the countryside on some of the best horseflesh God ever created."

"You had more freedom than most boys, you know, since you weren't bothered by tutors and schools. Perhaps more freedom than is wise. You could have encountered any number of hazards."

"My grandfather taught me to shoot." But then Felicity remembered Miles lecturing her on the Irish reality. "You're right, though. The trouble with my family is that they don't like to face unpleasant facts, so they ignore them. I believed people were essentially good and kind and would not hurt me. Most are, you know."

"Yes, but it's the few who aren't who present the problem."

The tray arrived, and Beth poured.

"Like Rupert Dunsmore," said Felicity as she took her cup. "Miles and I just staged a most convincing quarrel."

"Excellent."

"Is it? It was based on truth. How could I marry a man who thinks me a spoiled brat?"

"Miles might be speaking from experience. He's somewhat spoiled himself."

"Miles? Lady Aideen doesn't appear the type to cosset a boy, and he says he went to a strict school."

"Ah, yes," said Beth with a smile. "But as a Rogue. They formed a protective association, you see. They claim they only protected each other from injustice, but learning to handle injustice is part of the training for life, don't you think? And though his mother doubtless trained him well in manners and such, she cossets him because of his future."

"What do you mean?" asked Felicity, wickedly delighting in talk of the man she loved.

Beth put down her empty cup. "In current status, Miles and Lucien are at opposite ends of the Rogues but, in reality, they are almost equal. Lucien will one day be Duke of Belcraven, one of the highest men in the land. Someday-and probably soon-Miles will be Earl of Kilgoran. In Ireland, I gather, that ranks nearly as high."

"True enough. The earldom has been rich and powerful for generations, but the present earl has built a reputation as the wise man of Irish politics. Not an easy role to assume."

Beth nodded. "I know Miles dreads it. In addition to any political complications, there is a vast estate and a palatial home full of dependents."

"Including Kieran, I hope."

"I'm sure that's true. As for Miles, probably the wisest course would have been to ruthlessly prepare him for that role, as Lucien has been prepared. Don't let Lucien's light manner deceive you. He could pick up the reins of the duchy tomorrow. I gather Miles's uncle wished a similar upbringing, even to the extent of raising him at Kilgoran Castle. His parents refused. The only concession they made was to send him to an English school so he would learn to deal with us. And there he was enrolled into the Rogues."

"According to him, it saved his life."

"Irish exaggeration. It doubtless saved him some beatings, though. But you see how it was. His parents saved him from the pressures of his future rank, and the Rogues saved him from the perils of English enmity. Since he's by nature a lighthearted, easygoing fellow, he's hardly come to grips with trouble at all. He doesn't even have to run his own estate. Since his father's death, his mother has done it for him, leaving Miles free to hunt six months of the year and play most of the rest."

"You disapprove? Faith, I think you're a puritan at heart."

"I think adults should have an adult view of life. In your case, Miles is having to handle an adult situation. It will do him good."

"So I'm a brisk purgative draught, am I?"

Beth smiled at the resentment. "Let us say, a stimulant. The point of the discussion, however, is that you and Miles have rather more in common than you think. You are as suited to be Countess of Kilgoran as he is to be earl."

"Heaven help Ireland."

"Ireland will be very fortunate. Now," Beth said rising, "can I persuade you to help me arrange some floral decorations?"

"Only with a pistol." Felicity grabbed her copy of The Rights of Woman. `I'd rather struggle with this." Then she paused. "I suppose that's the wrong answer."

"Not at all. The Countess of Kilgoran can doubtless command others to arrange flowers for her. She will, however, have to think for herself."

Chapter Nineteen

Felicity did little reading of Wollstonecraft, but a great deal of thinking for herself.

Reluctantly, she acknowledged there had been truth in Miles's words. She had come to let resentment rule her.

Though she had been fond of her grandfather, she had always held him partly to blame for her problems.

She'd blamed Aunt Annie for being so inadequate a substitute mother.

She'd even blamed her parents for dying.

And she hated Rupert Dunsmore. Now that, she felt, was reasonable, but her rage at the world was not.

Miles had meant more than that, though. He'd been warning her of the danger of believing she had the right to be cruel, because a person could not always control who would get hurt.

He was right. She shivered when she remembered that for a moment she'd contemplated burning down Vauxhall.

But Miles's words had not just been stirred by disapproval of her behavior. They'd also been the product of that dangerous game they'd Played in the stables, of the frustrated need it had roused in both of them.

As Felicity had once said, she and Miles Were in danger of tearing each other apart, and hurting innocents in the process.

Let Rupert Dunsmore come quickly so this would be over.

Some time later, the library door opened. Miles came in, but warily. "We're heading out for equestrian amusements. Do you want to come?"

Worry and resentment evaporated. "Do I want?... Could I?"

"Why not? You'll be the only woman, for Beth and Blanche aren't keen, but there's a world of difference between a private party and a hunt."

She leaped to her feet. "I'll be into my habit and down in a moment!" She paused at the door. "I don't suppose there's any possibility of breeches..."

"Not a trace," he said with a grin.

Felicity hurried through a hall already half-full of hearty horsemen, ran up the stairs, and tugged the bell-rope in her room. Within minutes, she was out of her dress and wriggling into her habit.

When she emerged from the front door, the scene in front of Vauxhall resembled a hunt meet, save for the absence of dogs. Thirty or so horses shifted restlessly on the drive and lawns, either held by grooms or already mounted. Other servants weaved around with stirrup cups.

Tingling at the thought of riding, she looped up her skirt and hurried down to where Miles was checking a gray gelding.

"Is he for me? I am quite able to check my own horse." This was for the benefit of a young towheaded groom holding the bridle, but she couldn't for the life of her find a scowl to go with it.

Miles let the stirrup drop. "It's my duty as a guardian to keep you safe. I would be shamed before the world if you were to fall and break your neck while under my care."

"Or break my ankle?" she teased, knowing that was slang for getting with child.

"That either," he said, with a warning shake of his head.

"I must point out that I haven't come off a trained horse in over five years."

"Banshee's arrived. Tomorrow I'll put you up on him, if you like. That'll be a fair test."

"Banshee?" Then she remembered the ungainly gray horse who'd ripped Miles's arm out of its socket. "Ah, yes. We have a wager."

"I'm looking forward to that cake."

Felicity looked around at the assembly of top-notch horseflesh and laughed. "You'll never get one of these men to buy that piece of dog's meat for fifty guineas. Never."

"You say "never" about too many things, thorn-in-my-flesh. Shall I toss you up now?"

She let him boost her up, then arranged her skirt as the groom passed back the reins. She took them absently, still settling herself and getting the feel of the mount.

Until she felt the piece of paper that accompanied them.

She glanced once at the fair-haired groom, then tried to pretend nothing had happened. What had Miles just said? Something about fences...

"Of course I'm going to take some fences," she snapped in genuine irritation. "Stop fussing over me."

"A sidesaddle isn't the best for taking jumps, and you know it."

Felicity was in a fever to read the note. "It's all a matter of balance, remember? My balance is excellent. Go away."

He glanced around, and Felicity realized the groom had gone and no one else was nearby to hear her performance.

He mustn't suspect anything. "I mean it, Miles. I will not be told how to ride a horse. This creature seems to be sound and well trained. You have made sure all parts of the tack are secure. Now go away and let me be."

Amazingly, he obeyed, going off to mount a fine white-socked chestnut.

The note felt as if it were burning a hole in Felicity's glove, and yet she dared not even peep at it just yet. It had to be from Rupert, though, and she couldn't ignore it for long. What if ft appointed a meeting during the ride?