“What about him?”
“Will he still be my escort?”
“Mr. Chase can escort you if you need the security.”
“He’s my friend,” Felicity said meekly. He was so much more than that, and it hurt to whisper what her heart wanted to shout. “Everything is happening so fast. I don’t know what to do.” How was she going to stop this? She couldn’t marry Hugstead. Not now. Not ever.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat on the chair beside her and twisted toward her. “I can’t pretend to imagine all the things you’ve gone through of late. I’ve my own past to contend with at times. Memories become specters if we don’t put them to rest. You can’t move forward, Miss Brandon, unless you take a step.”
“But . . .”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon reached out and put her hand over Felicity’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“He’s a good man, you know. For all his darkness and intrigue, he’s smart, ethical where it counts, and loyal. He’s in dire a situation himself, but he likes to hide his secrets well from others.”
Felicity knew she meant Tristan. “He told me about his brother and wanting to earn back his home. How much does he have left to repay?”
“Too much. He’ll be in my employ for some time yet unless a miracle happens.”
“That’s terrible. What can Tristan do?”
“I don’t know. But you shouldn’t worry about him. A man like him will always find a way to get what he wants. As for you, I want you to rest well tonight and think deeply and thoroughly about this offer. We can put an end to this once and for all. Lord Hugstead has many powerful alliances, and he owes me a favor. He’s not bad looking, either.”
Felicity huffed out a laugh. No one could compare to Tristan. And no one would love her like he did. They were made for each other. She would have never believed such a ridiculous idea in her youth. But now? It was true. It had to be true, and there had to be a way for them to be together.
“I will rest and think tonight. When do I have to answer?”
“The sooner you accept, the quicker you can be married. I can try to maneuver a special license out of the Archbishop of Canterbury again, but he’s cross with me still about the last time I conned him.” She winked.
Felicity stood. “I should go then.”
“Have Milly help you pack the remainder of your things.”
Felicity nodded. She opened the door, and Milly and Tristan waited there. Her knees nearly buckled with the urge to throw herself at him, but she stood firm.
“I have to pack,” she said. “I’m going to stay with Lady Amelia.”
Tristan nodded. “That’s good.”
Felicity couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t know about Hugstead.
“Come, miss. I have some tea in your room already,” Milly beckoned.
“I have to speak with her,” he said. “I’ll come find you when it’s time to go.”
Felicity nodded and Tristan entered the parlor and closed the door.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon stoodby the tea cart and poured herself a cup. “You took some time to bring her back here.”
“She didn’t want to come back at all. It took some convincing.”
“What else did it take, I wonder...” she mused.
Tristan leaned on the back of the chair. He was too restless to sit, not when he was ready to blow up all his plans and throw away his family’s legacy. His siblings, a home for him and Flick—he’d have to figure it out somehow. Maybe the widow would accept a new deal. He’d do anything if it meant keeping Flick, even murder.
“I want to marry her,” he declared.
“No,” she said without any preamble or surprise.
