Blakewood snorted. “That had more to do with your beauty than your taunting.”
“It was both. You should try to flirt with the other players, Chase.”
Chase tipped his head back against the chair and groaned. “I need to take a walk.”
“We’ll all take a break and start again in thirty minutes,” Lord Alston said.
Chapter Nineteen
Felicity woke laterthan she’d ever slept in her entire life. Matilda had brought a breakfast tray, and it sat on the side table, long cold. Felicity lay in bed, staring at the plaster ceiling and refusing to dwell on what she should be doing—the thinking Mrs. Dove-Lyon had asked her to do.
But she couldn’t contemplate marrying Lord Hugstead. He was nice, reasonable, and handsome—but not in a way that made her heart race like Tristan. He oozed confidence and serious dedication, but he wasn’t Tristan.
All she wanted was Tristan and the home he described. She yearned for it, like some place inside her knew that was where she’d always belonged.
She wouldn’t be marrying Lord Hugstead. Or any other man Mrs. Dove-Lyon managed to conjure from the gaming floor to do her bidding. Which left her in a spiral of guilt and despair. Because she also couldn’t have Tristan, and she’d never see her sisters again if she didn’t marry Lord Hugstead or someone like him.
“Miss?” Matilda knocked on the door.
“Come in.” Felicity sat up in the bed, running her hand across thesmooth sheet where Tristan would have lain this morning. She hadn’t felt him leave but was glad he had. She wanted him, but she needed space to think clearly.
“I thought you might like to have a proper bath.”
“A bath? Yes, that would be lovely.”
Felicity did not expect the behemoth of a copper tub that two footmen carried in. She’d expected a hip bath.
“It will be a moment before it’s ready,” Matilda warned. The two footmen carried buckets of steaming water back and forth until the tub was full. Felicity didn’t know what to say to such an extravagance.
“Lady Amelia recommended these oils to help you relax,” Matilda said.
“She did? I will have to thank her. Is she in residence?”
“She is, but she’s been in the study with her brother and a guest.”
What guest? Could it be Tristan? Would they keep him away from her?
“Do you know who it is?”
Matilda grinned. “It’s Mr. Chase!” she said cheerily. “Don’t know why he’d be meeting with his lordship, though. They didn’t get on well.”
“No. I wonder what it could be about,” Felicity said.
“You, I’d guess.” Matilda replied.
“Why would it be about me?”
“Well, he brought you back and forth last time, didn’t he?”
“He did. But I’m not working for his employer anymore.”
“Oh,” she frowned. “Then why would he be here?”
Felicity prayed it was to see her.
She stood and went to the dressing screen. “Uh, I thank you for your help, but I don’t like to undress in front of others.”
“Very well. I’ll place a towel here by the stool and leave you be.”
