To Marry the Duke's Daughter (After the Masquerade) (8 page)

“And that upsets you,” she concluded.
“Despite everything your brother has done to you, you still want him to be
happy.”

Jonathon offered her a nonchalant lift
of one shoulder. “He is my brother.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I wish
I had your patience.”

“It is because of you that I am this
patient. Before I might have happily tossed him from Vauxhall Bridge,” he
admitted. “Now I see that he is sick with addiction. I want to help him, but
I don’t know how. I don’t know what can be done; it might be too late to help
him. He has been this way his whole life.”

Felicity rested her forehead against
his and tilted her face so that their noses brushed against each other. “I
will do everything I can to help you help your brother,” she promised. “But
right now I think you should take care of yourself.”

His thumbs caressed her cheeks and he
gave her a teasing smile. “I thought
you
would take care of me.”

“I love you for your refreshing
honesty,” she declared. “You said yesterday that you want to be kind and
patient and everything I deserve, but you are already that man, Jonathon. You
do not need to curb your tongue around me, because I enjoy your witty remarks.”

“But it was wrong of me to refer to my
brother as an overgrown moulting crow,” he protested. “It was funny, yes, but
still wrong.”

“Then it was wrong of me to laugh. So
we are both at fault for an often rude bearing,” she stated, shifting so that
she was more comfortable on his lap. “We can correct each other once we are
through laughing.”

The corner of his mouth turned up as he
watched her eyes flick down to his lips. “You know I love to laugh,” he
murmured, spearing one hand through her hair while the other cupped her jaw.
“Laughter with you is more enjoyable than laughter with anyone else, and it
makes me wonder…”

“Hmm?”

“It makes me wonder if kissing you will
be even more enjoyable than laughing,” he whispered. “I must admit that I have
thought of kissing you for a very long time. I have imagined it in almost
every setting.”

“In a carriage?” she asked hopefully,
sparks igniting in her chameleon grey eyes.

“Once or twice. My favourite was in a
tree.”

She drew away slightly, amused. “In a
tree?”

“Oh, yes. It was a delightfully wicked
dream. We will have to make sure there are plenty of climbable trees where we
live.”

“I am curious as to how it was a
delightfully wicked kiss in a tree.”

He grinned wolfishly. “I might be able
to assuage that curiosity in a carriage.”

“Will we frighten poor Briggs?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson. “Perhaps
we should save the wickedness for the tree, then, and keep it simply delightful
in the carriage.”

He captured her lips after a tender
consent, careful to contain the sudden rush of blood through his veins. While
she sank into his embrace and learned how to mould her mouth to his, he slid a
hand down her neck and across to her shoulder, pushing aside the fabric of her
dress. His lips followed eagerly, and he grinned against her neck as she
moaned and squirmed against him.

“Do I need to stop?” he asked
teasingly, squeezing her waist. He savoured the sweet taste of her lips again,
saving her from mumbling too many incoherent words. “It is still just a kiss.”

Her fingers curled in his hair as she
sought to be closer, and she bit at his lower lip in experimentation. “Don’t
stop,” she pleaded, following him as he drew back in shock.

“You are a quick learner,” he managed,
finding it difficult to swallow.

She smiled wryly. “I think you are a
good teacher.”

“Then…” He took a shaky breath. “Are
you still opposed to frightening Briggs? Because I don’t know how much quick
learning I can endure without turning wicked.”

She trailed her fingers down his chest
and he glanced down in an effort to comprehend why he could feel the heat
radiating from her hands. He had given her his coat to serve as a blanket, so
he had already lost one protective layer. Somehow she had managed to unbutton
his waistcoat while he was occupied with kissing her; her fingertips scalded
his chest through the thin linen of his shirt.

“I thought this was delightful,” she
offered, not meeting his eyes. “Kissing you does not feel wicked, but then we
are soon to be married. Perhaps wickedness is in the eye of the beholder.”
She pressed her mouth to his.

He groaned and promptly started to
devour her. Just as he began to think that a carriage might not be so terrible
a location to be wicked, the road worsened and the carriage titled violently to
the right. His head smashed against the side of the carriage and he released
her with a cry of pain.

“Jonathon, are you injured?”

“It is a shame it is not already
tonight,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “Staying at an inn looks like a necessity.
Now go sit on the other side.”

Chapter
Eight

Gretna
Green

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As Carlton stepped onto the street, he
finally understood Lady Sylvia White’s disgust for carriages. After a
harrowing flight to Gretna Green, his legs were stiff, his back was sore, and
his head was throbbing from the constant rumbling of the road beneath the
carriage wheels.

He should have known that Lady
Ravenwood’s sudden interest in his daughter was cause for alarm, but though he
was aware of the marchioness’s matchmaking record, he did not anticipate that
she would support an elopement. The Ravenwoods had cited their support as not
having the heart to stop two young lovers, but Carlton had the distinct
impression that Mr. White had agreed to the elopement because he had been
convinced it was indeed their only option. Felicity had been very angry at the
opera, and Carlton only wished he had been sensible enough to say something to
her that night instead of waiting until it was too late.

Carlton also wished he could be angry
with someone other than himself, but he accepted that his decision to keep his
daughter in the dark about his troubles had caused her determination to elope.
He should have told her the truth as soon as she turned an age she could
understand.

“Do you think we have any hope of
finding them before they can elope?” Lady White queried. “I am still shocked
that Jonathon would go to this extent, but in a way it is romantic.”

Carlton scoffed. “Marrying her
properly would be romantic. Do not get me wrong, I understand that he
would
marry her properly,” he added
hastily, careful lest he insult his daughter’s future mother-in-law. “But if
we do find them before they are married, there is a chance we can settle this
matter quickly
and
properly.”

Sylvia shrugged. “I suppose I would
feel differently if it were my daughter that had eloped instead of my son, but
this
is
romantic, Avondale. He has
whisked her away to Scotland to make her his bride—”

He cleared his throat before she could
go on a wistful tangent. “If he were Scottish, whisking her away would be
romantic. But he is an Englishman, and so should want to marry her in
England.”

He had the distinct impression that she
was laughing at him, but he refused to look down to check her expression.
Instead his eyes darted from one side of the muddy road to the other, desperate
for any glimpse of a black-haired woman and brown-haired man.

“Lord Avondale! Mama?”

Carlton and Sylvia both turned to see a
surprised Jonathon and Felicity.

“Jonathon!” Sylvia rushed forward to
embrace her son. “And this must be Lady Felicity.”

Felicity smiled warmly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes darted towards her father and then dimmed. “Hello Papa.”

“Felicity.” Carlton’s throat felt
exceptionally tight. “I need to speak with you, Felicity.”

“I will never marry anyone but
Jonathon. I love him, and he loves me. I do not care that his brother has
stolen his money and made him look like a fortune hunter; I love him, and I
will marry him. Today,” Felicity declared triumphantly.

“I understand that, darling. I am not
here to change your mind,” Carlton assured his daughter. “But if we can take
this conversation off the street, I will be most obliged.” The four were
already drawing quite a bit of attention, and he had no desire to share his
secrets with all of Gretna Green.

“Of course,” Jonathon agreed, tugging
Felicity closer to his side. “If we are permitted to marry, I think Felicity
will be more than willing to listen,” he added, giving her a stern look when
she made a face up at him.

After they reconvened in Felicity and
Jonathon’s chosen inn, the duke pulled the battered letter from his waistcoat.

“I suspected, after Lord White’s visit,
that the earl was to blame for his brother’s troubles,” Carlton began. “I am
terribly sorry for ever considering you a fortune hunter, Mr. White, but you
must admit I had my reasons.”

“There are no apologies needed,”
Jonathon said softly.

Carlton acknowledged that with a small
bow. “Felicity, I am not opposed to you taking this man as your husband,” he
continued. “I wanted you to wait because of circumstances that I have been
careful to keep from you. I did not want to trouble you with my mistakes, for
they are mine and mine alone. However, I should have been honest with you,
especially upon our return to London. Instead of vaguely telling you that your
happiness had to wait, I should have told you about this.” He waved the letter
in the air.

Felicity eyed the letter in concern.
“I do not understand, Papa. If it were your own trouble, why would you think
it necessary to use it as a reason to keep Jonathon and I apart?”

Sylvia motioned the duke on. “It does
concern Felicity, or at least it did. Just tell her, Avondale.”

Carlton saw Jonathon place a hand on
Felicity’s shoulder and was immensely grateful for the younger man’s desire to
support Felicity. He wanted to cross the room and take his daughter into his
arms, but he could tell by her expression that she was still too angry with
him.

He doubted that what he was about to
tell her would put her in a better mood.

“For the past year I have been waiting
for news about a matter that has been taxing my spirit and my accounts,” the
duke finally started. “Chattrecombe’s nephew is in the employ of the War
Office, and they have been kind enough to look into this matter.”

“What matter, Papa?” Felicity cut in.
“Just tell me. I am tired of not knowing.”

Carlton sighed and rubbed his temples,
the letter still clutched in his hand. “Twenty-eight years ago, while I was
still young and reckless, I took a mistress. It was a short affair, and once
over I thought it over. We went our separate ways, and three years later I met
your mother and fell in love. I never thought this woman would ever return to
haunt me. However, she reappeared two years after your mother died, claiming
that her young son was mine. He was six years of age and had black hair; I had
no choice but to believe her. I offered to pay her the necessary amount to
care for the child, but she insisted she would go public with him if I did not
pay her more. Not wanting you to ever find out about my dishonour, and
disgusted with myself for siring a bastard child, I consented to the woman’s
demands and paid to keep her on the Continent. I have only ever wanted to protect
you from my mistake, Felicity.”

Felicity’s expression was bleak as she
turned her face away from his anxious gaze.

“But…if you paid her what she wanted,
why would she still be an issue?” Jonathon questioned.

“She started demanding more money,” the
duke replied sadly. “So much so that I began to lose money each year. I cut
back on my expenses, but I knew that if things continued I would lose
everything that belongs to Felicity—her dowry, her inheritance, her
pride. Then a fire ravaged the village of Avondale, and I dipped into my
remaining funds to help my tenants rebuild. As a father, I could not let my
daughter marry while I was in doubt that I could give her the dowry she
deserved.”

“I would not have cared, Papa,”
Felicity stated, tears brimming in her eyes. “If you had told me the truth I
would have done everything to help you save money. I did not need so many new
dresses every year, or…” She angrily scrubbed her tears away. “I would have
helped you, Papa. You should have told me.”

Carlton dipped his head in shame. “I
know, darling. I should have trusted you with the truth. I was just so afraid
that you would hate me if you knew there was a possibility that I had a bastard
child.”

Felicity’s eyebrows drew together and
her nose scrunched up. “A possibility?”

Her father nodded. “I waited so long
to tell you the truth because I began to doubt. That is why I asked for
Chattrecombe’s help. I needed to know if the child—now a man—was
truly mine. If I had one more day, I would have told you the truth. I
received this,” he held the letter aloft, “just before realizing that you had
eloped.”

“And?”

“It took nearly a year for the War
Office to locate her. When we returned to London Chattrecombe informed me that
they had found her, but were still unsure about her child. That is why I was
hesitant to let you marry Mr. White immediately. I wanted to know the truth.
If I found out the boy was not mine, I would never need to concern you with my
troubles and you could marry Mr. White whenever you both pleased. If it turned
out that the boy was mine, I would tell you the truth and hope that you would
forgive me for misleading you.”

Felicity huffed. “I understand that,
Papa. What did the War Office find?”

“Their agent was able to speak with the
man, who informed them that he is Viscount Percival Lyons’s illegitimate son.
The current Lord Lyons has continued his father’s payments but has sent them
directly to his half-brother, who had no knowledge of his mother’s activities.
The man is working with the War Office to determine if any others are involved
in this scandal. I would not be surprised if that woman has been dredging half
the
ton
for money.”

She looked relieved. “If he is not
yours, then you no longer need to pay her. You do not need to worry about
her.”

Carlton nodded. “I wish I had questioned
her before, but I was too shamed by my actions. I am so sorry that my past has
interfered with your happiness, Felicity.”

He was surprised when Sylvia spoke up
in his defence.

“You wanted to protect her from your
mistakes,” Lady White stated. “If my eldest son had not made Jonathon look
like a fortune hunter, you would not have had to worry about immediately
providing Felicity with her dowry. They could have married with our blessing
and you could have learned the truth without being so concerned about
protecting your daughter.”

“I thank you for that, but I must take
responsibility for this,” the duke corrected. “This is
my
fault. If I had not taken that woman as my mistress
twenty-eight years ago, none of this would have happened.”

Felicity made a face that indicated she
fully agreed with his statement, but Jonathon shook his head in disagreement.

“You were young, Lord Avondale, and had
not yet met Felicity’s mother. You did not know love. If I had not been in
the cavalry fighting France, I might have been in the same position,” Jonathon
defended. “I was lucky to meet Felicity before I followed in my brother’s
example, and took a mistress. If you were the only peer in the
ton
to do so, you would be at fault.
But many, if not most, of the men in the
ton
have had a mistress at one point or another; many of those
do
have illegitimate children.”

“That does not make it right,” Felicity
muttered.

“No,” Jonathon agreed, “but it might
help you see that your father’s mistake would not have been anything out of the
ordinary. You are lucky to have a father who only feared
one
illegitimate child; if my knowledge is correct, the late Lord
Percival Lyons had
several
.”

“But—”

Jonathon cut her off by kneeling before
her and taking her hands in his. “Felicity, your father has done an excellent
job of protecting you from the worst of society. Right or wrong, young men are
almost
expected
to take a mistress
before marriage. I agree that it is not right, but I understand why many men
take advantage of society’s leniency to enjoy the company of the fairer sex.
Lust is a powerful force, and one that almost every young man feels. Luckily,
love is much more powerful. I did not know that before I met you; I had little
time for dalliances, but I did partake of them when I could. I wish I could
say that I have never enjoyed the company of another, Felicity, but I cannot.
Will you hold that against me?”

“No,” she grumbled. “Not if in the
future you are never with anyone but me.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to her
hand. “I promise you I will honour our vows, Felicity. I love you. But if
you do not hold my past against me, you should not hold your father’s past
against him.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip and shot a
concerned look towards her father. “Was there ever anyone after Mama?”

“No,” Carlton whispered. “After your
mother died I could think of nothing but you, and raising you to be as
wonderful as your mother.”

Jonathon reached up to brush away
Felicity’s tears. “Can you forgive him his past, love?”

Felicity nodded briskly. “I am sorry,
Papa, I just…I always imagined that Mama was the only woman you had ever
loved.”

“She was,” Carlton assured her.
“Although I suppose I must consider you a woman, now, and I love you. I never
make the same mistake twice, Felicity; I will never hide anything from you
again. I will never lie to you.”

“Thank you, Papa.”