She huffed out a breath. “It was far from the first time, and it won’t be the last time, Fitzy.” She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder for a heartbeat. “But thank you, brother.”
She pushed off and hurried to catch up with Georgiana, who was already halfway up the stairs. Felicity turned and looked back at him, one foot on the steps. “I figure this is the perfect opportunity to hurl as many balls full of ice at his head as I can.” She smirked. “Feel free to join me.”
She went to turn back but paused. She arched a brow. “Gigi, aye?” She winked and scurried after his wife.
His cheeks warmed, but he laughed and trailed after them, heading for his chambers. Perhaps he’d accidentally push his sister’s cad of a fiancé face-first into the snow. His hands were tied in helping Felicity extricate herself from the marriage. But he could at least do that.
36
Georgiana
Georgianahoppedfromthecarriage, assisted by her husband, his strong, firm grip around her waist as he gently lowered her into the surprisingly deep snow. She glanced down, her boots disappearing from view. It seemed they’d received a fair bit of snow last night.
She looked up at him, her lips tilting upward. They locked gazes, and his cheeks tinted a dusty rose. He smiled bashfully at her, and her heart fell right out of her chest andploppedinto the snow. Goodness, he was so bloody sweet. Irresistibly endearing. And finally,finally, things seemed to be looking up for them.
She turned her attention to the snow-covered St. James Park. She loved nothing more than a freshly fallen snow. A pristine white blanket surrounded them. Trees and shrubbery painted with snow. Even the pond was covered, completely out of view.
She sucked in an icy breath, reveling in the sharp chill akin to breathing in peppermint. Everything was better today, brighter. She and Fitz had finally talked. Last night had been lovely. Nothing but warming whisky and comfortable conversation. And maybe tonight… Maybe she would be able to convince him to bed her again. She wanted to be in his arms again.
Fitz trudged over to his brother, his face a mask of seriousness as he bent down to scoop up some snow on his way, testing out its suitability for snowball-making.
She had been surprised the roads were already cleared for travel; they’d never been cleared that fast where she resided in London with her family. It wasn’t the most fashionable of areas, but still respectable. But apparently it still made all the difference. Because Felicity assured Georgiana that there was no way the streets surrounding Grosvenor Square would go uncleared for long. Apparently, the wealthy aristocrats would never tolerate such an inconvenience.
Despite the roads being traversable, the park was relatively empty. The Jennings and their entourage were of the few who decided to brave the cold and snow.
“I see Mare!” Felicity tugged at Georgiana’s hand and dragged her toward a woman bundled up in an evergreen wool coat in the distance.
“Mare!” Felicity waved wildly, and the woman beamed, waving back.
She was average height, with ebony hair almost completely hidden beneath her white fur-trimmed bonnet that matched her fur tippet dangling over her shoulders. That was about all Georgiana could discern with the massive number of layers needed to brave the cold.
“Mare,” Felicity huffed, out of breath from nearly running, Georgiana in tow, to her friend. “This is Georgiana, Fitzy’s wife. Georgiana, this is Mare. My best friend.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Camoys.” Georgiana attempted to dip a curtsy. Not the easiest thing to do with the number of layers Felicity had forced her into.
“Oh, none of that. You must call me Mare, too. Or Maribeth, if you prefer. But most definitelynotLady Camoys. There is no such thing as formality with friends.”
Georgiana’s heart warmed, warmed her more than the endless number of layers she’d donned ever could.
Mare turned to Felicity. “Are you ready, Fliss?” She sent up a saucy brow.
Georgiana glanced between the two women, her brow wrinkling. “Why do I get the feeling that we aren’t talking about the snowball fight?”
Felicity turned to Georgiana. “Oh, we are.”
Mare stepped forward. “But notjustthe snowball fight.”
“There is a certain someone who deserves the majority of our snowballs.” Felicity’s grin was evil. Pure evil. And Georgiana loved it.
She clapped her gloves together. “Lord Wessex?” she asked eagerly. And then realized that probably was extremely insensitive. She hastily added, “I’m sorry, Felicity. I shouldn’t be excited about such a thing. I can’t imagine—”
“No,” Felicity cut her off. “You are exactly right to be excited. I have been betrothed to the man near four years. I’m about as numb to his escapades as I’d be if I were buried in this here snow.”
Georgiana thought the tightening of Felicity’s features might give that statement away as a lie, but she didn’t voice that.
“If you can’t take the cad out of the man”—Felicity shrugged—“pelt him with snowballs.”
Mare was nodding vigorously. “Exactly.”
