Cole opened his mouth.
“Or a duchess,” she added. “Or a countess or a viscountess or any other ‘-ess.’ I don’t want to be ‘a lady.’ I want to be Felicity. After so many years of doing my best to blend with others, I’ve finally figured out who I truly am.Thisis me.” She gestured at herself. “Thisis the sister you’ve known all your life. I’ve tried so hard to be someone else, but I can’t bear to live a lie for the rest of my life. Even for you.”
She prepared herself for the worst.
Her brother looked stricken. “I never wanted any of that for me. I wanted it for you.”
“You’re… not disappointed?” she stammered.
“I’m disappointed inme,” Cole answered, his cheeks flushing with shame. “From the time you were small, I’ve made you think you had to live whatever life I orchestrated for you. From the little helper at my heels in the smithy, to some grandiose matron of the ton. I was trying so hard to give you everythingIwanted you to have, that I never stopped to ask you whatyouwanted.”
“I just wanted to make you proud,” she mumbled.
It was all she had ever wanted. To matter. To be important. To be accepted for who she was.
“Youdomake me proud.” He grasped her shoulders. “Felicity, there’s no better sibling a man could have. You’ve been my brother, my sister, my best friend, my confidante… My constant companion since the day you were born. I owe the world toyou. Not the other way around.”
Her hands trembled.
“I wanted you to make a splendid match becauseyouare splendid,” he said softly. “I want you to have your best chance at happiness. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
She drew a shaky breath.
He touched his knuckle to her chin. “The most splendid match you can make is with the man who loves you and makes you happy. Nothing else matters, Felicity. I swear it. Go with your heart. It will never lead you wrong.”
Before her eyes filled with tears in front of all these witnesses, she turned toward the door—and locked eyes with the only man she wanted.
He leaned against the far wall; his wounded arm tucked in a sling over his chest. The knuckles on his good hand were bruised now, too. Possibly due to the shiner currently empurpling one of Silas Wiltchurch’s eyes.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked tentatively.
Giles lifted a shoulder. “I was showing this gentleman the exit.”
“I’ll do it!” Half a dozen men leaped to their feet at once to escort a sullen Wiltchurch to the door.
“Don’t bother to come back,” Cole called without bothering to look over his shoulder. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”
Her heart caught.
Silas Wiltchurch, nephew to one of society’s most powerful patronesses, was unwelcome.
Felicity could stay. Exactly how she was.
Now that she was here, how could she prove to Giles how much he meant?
“Is there a betting book?” she asked her brother.
He nodded, then frowned. “How many bad habits do you have?”
She ignored him and squared her shoulders.
“Giles Langford,” she called out as she strode straight toward the man. “I challenge you to a carriage duel.”
He narrowed his eyes as she drew closer. “What’s a carriage duel?”
“A race in which the loser owes the winner a boon,” she explained to the delight of the onlooking crowd. Several were already racing toward the betting book. “If I win, you marry Lady Felicity.”
His arms were already reaching toward her. “And if I win?”
“You marry Lord Felix,” she answered, lips twitching.
“Deal,” was the last thing he said before his mouth slanted over hers and the tavern’s whoops and wolf-whistles drowned out the pounding of their hearts.
Thiswas what winning felt like.
