Control.
She had attempted one final desperate appeal and pleaded her case to her brother after the encounter with Colborn at the Chesterfield ball. She had told her brother exactly what Colborn had said. AndstillFelix had denied her request to end the betrothal.You’ll be married within the year.
He had reminded her that Lord Wessex was going to be aduke,and she was going to be aduchess. She was truly starting to hate the word duchess. It held none of the meaning she was led to believe. And when she had told Felix exactly that, he had promptly reminded her of the kind of power she would hold as a duchess, the influence she would have, the ability to make changes in the world.
Which was all infuriatingly true.
He had also bombarded her with rapid-fire questions:
“Do you not find him handsome?”
Yes, she did. He was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.
“Do you not enjoy the time you spend together?”
Yes, he always made her laugh, and he was quite fun to keep company with—in a rapscallion sort of way. When he wasn’t sticking his prick in other people.
“Did you not want to marry him initially?”
Yes, but that was four years and probably four hundred women ago.
He had waved off that last bit. Felix was somehow very sure of the fact that Colborn would come around and fall in love with Felicity.How could he not?Felix had said.You are the most beautiful woman in London.
Based on her betrothed’s many assignations, Felicity didn’t think Colborn was all that discerning in that area. She had almost told her brother she was fairly certain the only way Colborn would fall in love with her was if her vagina had magical properties. Fortunately, she caught herself in time.
Her brother didn’t understand. He knew this match was one Father had always wanted, and that niggling guilt was a heavy cloak Felicity wore as well. So, Felix was unrelenting when it came to dismissing Felicity’s pleas.
Sometimes she wanted to plant the loveable oaf a facer.
Her brother was blind to her concerns because to him they were trivial. He reminded Felicity she could marry a handsome, diverting—albeit unfaithful—duke and have riches and power and a brood of children. What on earth was Felicity complaining about? Lord Wessex hadhis teeth, blast it all. What more could Felicity ask for?
Felix could never be withhislover. Well, not publicly anyhow. Felicity and Colborn had the chance to grow to love each other. That would never happen with whoever Felix married. He would have to somehow force himself to create an heir with a wife when he couldn’t bear the thought of being with a woman. And… Felicity had immediately felt like an ungrateful, whiny child. The doubt had crept in, like it always did. That perhaps her concerns weren’t warranted. That she was beingunreasonable.
She growled and bared her teeth at the looming entryway. She. Was. Not.
Felicity had been sitting with Maribeth in her best friend’s chambers devouring one too many lemon hand pies, resigned to her fate, and Mare had made some excellent points: Why did Felicity’s future need to suffer just because others had a tough lot in life? And if her father was alive now, would he truly want this for her?
But there was no way out.
UntilThe Planhad formed. A plan which put her in front of her betrothed’s country estate in the middle of the night. When her fiancé was quite conveniently back in London.
She took a step forward.
Revenge.
Another two steps.
An escape.
Three more steps, and she was before the stairs to the entry.
She stared into the dark entry, a lone torch’s flame dancing frantically in the gusts of the storm.
And the last, most forbidden reason—one she hadn’t even voiced to Maribeth.
The Duke.
She had always harbored a secret tendré for the Duke. Most women in England did. If his son was beautiful, the Duke was devastating. At three-and-forty he was all man, whereas his son was all spoiled boy. The Duke rarely left his estate. He was a man of few words. Reserved and grave and rough around the edges.Intriguing.
