She tended to lean toward the latter.
An odd, high-pitched squeal mixed with a muffled, hoarse yell. She wrinkled her nose. That had sounded deuced awkward.
Felicity pushed off the wall. That would do it. Finally, the twosome was done.
She brought her hands together in a slow, mocking applause. The woman’s gaze flew to Felicity’s—ah, Lady Ashton this time—and Colborn spun around to face her, breeches still around his thighs, certain parts of himself…swinging about. Dear Lord, could this be any more farcical?
“If you would excuse us, Lady Ashton. I would like a moment to speak with my betrothed. I will be sure to keep him detained long enough that no one will see you two leaving the room too close together.” Felicity shot the woman an exaggerated wink. “Your secret is safe with me.”
The woman’s eyes stretched comically wide, like she had just seen a ghost—or perhaps her lover’s deranged fiancé. No one would ever expect the demure Lady Felicity Jennings to be sarcastic. No one would expect her to be anything but poised and polite and perfectly put-together. She was always perfectly in control—of everything except for her own future. So essentially, everything except for what mattered.
The woman hastily tugged and pulled her outrageously pink gown into place as she fled the drawing room.
Felicity turned on her fiancé and planted her hands on her hips.
“It’s not what it looks like, Felicity.” Colborn’s tone was sickly earnest, his face reminiscent of a pure-hearted cherub.
She couldn’t stop herself. She burst out laughing.
“It’s—It’s not what it looks like?” she said through gasps. “Oh, heavens, Colborn. That’s a good one.” She fanned a hand in front of her face and tried to get a hold of herself. But it was just too ridiculous. This situation. Her life. Her future.
“Let me guess, you just happened to fall, and your prick quite accidentally landed in Lady Ashton’s lady bits. Thank goodness her quim was there to catch you.”
Colborn’s eyelids fell heavy over a quickly darkening gaze. “Well, well, well, fiancé. I had no idea you knew of such language.”
He wouldn’t have, because Felicity’s inner monologue was always held in strict reserve. Her family and close friends were the few who witnessed the true Felicity. One didn’t win husbands with a crude mouth, even if creative cursing was an art form Felicity excelled at.
It was one of the things her father had often reminded her of. She could be as wild and free as she wanted in the privacy of her own home as long as she knew what was expected of her out in society.
Sometimes she wondered if she took the wild and free a bit too far because of how composed she was required to be so much of the time. But that was too much self-reflection for a moment such as this.
“I have to say I find it quite…exciting,” he said. His previously softening prick bobbed in her direction.Blech. “Perhaps you would like a turn, then?”
And Felicity’s amusement evaporated. In its place: a stampede of snorting, enraged, and quite possibly dangerous beasts.
“Oh my God,” she said, her words barely audible through her clenched teeth, surprised she even managed to form words. “You are disgusting, Colborn. Truly.”
He frowned at her and opened his mouth, but she continued before he could spew something else idiotic.
“I am not here forthat. I sought you out to discuss our marriage and your…amorous activities. I have been assured over and over by others that this is normal. You are just sowing your wild oats. But we have been betrothed forfour years,Colborn. At this rate, you have planted your seed in every field and grove in England. I want to know. From you. Will this stop when we marry? Or will this continue?”
She almost asked when in the blazing ballocks they were going to get married—becausefour years—but she didn’t truly want to know. Because she truly didn’t want it to happen.
“Stop?” His beautiful face contorted as if he were attempting to translate Ancient Greek. “I suppose I could slow down a touch in the beginning. But it’s not the way of things, Felicity.”
He tilted his head, his fashionably pomaded light brown hair slicked to perfection, and he had the nerve to look at her like she had grown two heads. Likeshewas the fool here.
She supposed she was.
Felicity sucked in a deep breath before letting it pass slowly through her lips. All right. So, it was to be a marriage like her parents. That was fine. Not what she had dreamed of. That wasn’t a small piece of her heart breaking off and sinking to the bottom of the filth-infested Thames. Why she had even bothered hoping only highlighted how bacon-brained she truly was.
Because how silly of her to dream she would love her husband, and he her. One could not be a duchessandhave once-in-a-lifetime love. That was clearly too much good fortune for the fates to bestow on one person. But her parents had been unbelievably happy. So, Felicity would find a way to do that as well.
“I see. I will provide you with the heir and the spare. And after that we will be…friends of a sort, lead separate lives, have separate lovers.” She nodded, as though the motion would convince her this plan had merit, make her future taste more palatable. Not chalky and dry and requiring a full glass of wine to wash it down.
She did like spending time with Colborn. She could see herself being friends with him. It would be just like with Maribeth, always teasing her friend about her sexual escapades. Except with her husband.
She almost laughed. Teasing one’s husband about his sexual escapades—what a farce.
