“The Right Honorable, The Earl of Dalreoch.” The butler’s voice boomed through the ballroom and yet again whispers and conversation ceased.
“Go,” Felicity said quietly, and gave Ash a push.
He strode off, and she turned just as Lady Rutledge stopped before her, a willowy young blonde woman with startling blue eyes at the vivacious woman’s side. They curtsied, Lady Rutledge sinking especially low, gaze downcast. Felicity’s chest bloomed with warmth. She knew exactly what Franny was doing. Showing deference to the new duchess. Felicity lifted her chin, nodding to the two women in greeting.
“Your Grace,” Franny greeted, green eyes sparkling. Her gaze flitted to Ash and then back. “If that wasn’t a stare to swoon over, I don’t know what is. I must express my deepest…felicitations.”
Felicity’s hand flew up to cover her snort. “That was terrible,Lady Rutledge. But thank you.”
Lady Rutledge beamed. “I couldn’t help myself. I have a weakness for terrible puns. Especially regarding names.” She and the woman at her side shared an amused glance. “May I present to you, Your Grace, Lady Dunmore? Lady Dunmore, Her Grace, the Duchess of Devonford.”
Felicity’s jaw dropped. Popped right open. She hastily snapped it shut, gaze bouncing between the two women like a boxer’s fists trading jabs. She stepped forward and grabbed Lady Rutledge’s arm, eyes locked on the blonde-haired blue-eyed woman who looked near angelic. “I must have misheard, Lady Rutledge. You can’t possibly have said LadyDunmore.”
There was absolutely no way that Lord Dunmore, the rogue who was known for only ever bedding a woman once, would marry. And certainly not to a woman who appeared as though the heavens had opened and delivered one of their angels to earth. Said angel’s lips twitched, a subtle gleam in her eyes that spoke to more devilry than innocence.
“You heard correctly, Your Grace,” the supposed Lady Dunmore said, her soft voice melodic and amused. “Congratulations on your nuptials as well.”
“Congratulations,” Felicity parroted dumbly, and Lady Rutledge snickered.
“Oh, you have missed so much, Your Grace, whilst ensconced with your duke in the countryside.”
“I’ll say,” Felicity murmured. “This is a story Imusthear.” Goodness, the next thing they’d tell her is that the Duke of Ironcrest fell upon the marriage sword as well.
“Let us adjourn to the terrace. I believe we have quite a few stories to tell, yes?” Lady Rutledge said, already herding their small group toward the glass doors leading to the terrace.
It took everything in Felicity’s power not to bounce as she walked. Oh, how she delighted in a juicy story. “Where is Lady Pennington?” she asked, regarding Lady Rutledge's missing best friend, as they moved through the doors onto the torch-lit terrace.
Lady Rutledge and Lady Dunmore exchanged another glance, one that spoke of a knowledge only the two possessed. Felicity frowned. Well, she wanted to know too! She let out a small huff as they passed the scattered guests enjoying a reprieve from the stifling ballroom.
They gathered at the low stone-wall edging the terrace and Lady Rutledge turned, resting leisurely against the balusters. “It appears you have been completely consumed in newly wedded bliss, Your Grace. Though I can’t say I blame you.”
“Oh, enough Your Grace-ing, Franny,” Felicity said impatiently, waving off the formality with a flick of her hand. “We are in private now. You can stop pretending you are the epitome of propriety.”
Franny grinned and nodded toward Lady Dunmore. “This is Livy. She, Phi, and I became fast friends last season.” Franny pouted. “All of which you missed out on because apparently you were running off and marrying your betrothed’s father.”
Felicity’s lips quirked up. “I promise to provide all the details. But…” She paused, her gaze darting between the two women. “You two are much more in the know about my scandalous story than I am of whatever it is that keeps passing between your”—she wiggled her fingers at the ladies—“little mysterious glances.” Her gaze snapped to Livy’s. “You can call me Felicity, or Fliss, by the way. Any friend of Franny’s is a friend of mine.”
“Felicity,” Livy murmured, her lips and eyes smiling. “I have heard lovely things about you from Franny and Phi.”
“Speaking of Phi,” Felicity said. “Will one of you tell me where she is? Where is she and”—Felicity wrinkled her nose—“Lord Pennington.” Phi’s husband was the most odious man. Absolutely vile.
“Lord Pennington is dead,” Franny said quietly.
Felicity’s eyes flew wide. “What?”
She glanced between the two women, who were sharing another frustratingly wordless conversation. Felicity growled and Franny’s lips pressed tight as she fought a smile. “What happened, Franny? Livy? Someonepleeeasetell me.”
Livy and Franny shared another glance and then Livy leaned forward. “He was murdered.”
45
Epilogue – Felicity
A short while later…
A SOFT GIGGLE escaped Felicity, despite how she tried to hold it back with lips pressed tight. Ash stalked her, looming, forcing her backward across the drawing room. A bubbly giddy feeling bloomed deep in her belly. Because her husband hadideas.Ideas that spoke of wicked,wickedthings if his dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and arrogant smirk were any indication.
Her heel met with the wall behind her, halting her retreat. Then all mirth fled as Ash bent and gathered her skirts and petticoats, soft fabric whispering over her skin, leaving cool air in its place as he exposed her limbs inch by inch. And then his hands gripped her hips, and she was abruptly lifted, back colliding with the wall, breath leaving her lungs on awhoosh. Oh dear.
