Felicity nodded. This would have happened at some point. Wouldn’t it? What man would marry a woman with zero knowledge of her background?
“I am under her protection. My father insisted I marry a cruel man, and I refused. My father is... devout in his religious beliefs. Traditional, one might say.”
“Might one say his beliefs are archaic?”
Felicity nodded. “I was not the subservient daughter I was raised to be, which was a surprise even to me. I know what is right and what is wrong, and being forced to marry is wrong.”
He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I’d agree.”
“That is the why I am here, and my name is a secret, but if you must have it, my name is Miss Felicity Brandon.”
He took her hand and bowed over it. “Thank you for trusting me. I bid you goodnight, Miss Brandon, and I promise you I will not reveal your name or your presence here.”
“Thank you, Lord Hugstead.”
He left her standing there and paused at the doorway to speak to Tristan. When he left, Tristan made his way toward her.
“Are you ready to retire?”
Felicity nodded. “I am.”
“You look pale,” he said quietly. “Did he upset you?”
“No, I—I just feel so vulnerable now, without my mask, like things are changing faster than I can comprehend.”
His jaw flexed and he offered her his arm.
Chapter Twelve
Tristan remained stoicand silent as they reached her room. Felicity was shaken by the evening, as if the excitement and anxiety of revealing her face and the drastic outcome that was hurtling toward her were now being realized.
All she wanted was to take comfort in Tristan, but she could tell he was already pulling away. He knew Lord Hugstead. She could tell by the way they’d spoken together, and now Lord Hugstead stood as a specter of truth between them. Their time together, this glowing time of trust and affection was coming to an end. But she wasn’t ready to let Tristan go. Not yet. She was not an engaged woman yet, not in her mind or heart. Their magical day was not over, not until midnight. Tomorrow could wait a little longer.
Tristan unlocked her door and pushed it open gently.
“Goodnight, Flick,” he said in a monotone.
Felicity peered around the hall. “Will you come inside for a moment?” His gaze met hers and she swore she could see pain there, and her heart lurched. “Please?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“I need you to. I can’t get this gown off by myself.”
His gaze wandered over the dress, and her body responded like he’d touched her, further engraving the idea that was forming in her mind. She’d revealed her face to the Den, but Tristan deserved more, and she wanted to give it to him. Without him she’d never have this kind of bravery. She’d still be cowering in fear.
“Ring for Milly.”
“I don’t want Milly. I want you.”
His eyes met hers, intense and dark, nearly black in the dim hall.
“Only for a moment,” he said coldly.
Felicity nodded. She waited for him to step inside first and followed, just in case he changed his mind. She closed the door and locked it.
He turned to face her, folding his arms.
“Will you tell me why you’re angry?” she asked.
