“When entering the Den? One never knows.”
Felicity could almost agree, but for most of her time at the Den, she’d felt safe. She had made friends and learned to view the world in a new, more colorful way. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was an intimidating and indomitable woman, but she’d also been Felicity’s saving grace, hershelter in a storm. She owed the woman more than she could ever repay. Which was a substantial sum. Another reason Felicity was supposed to marry a wealthy man. She had a growing debt of her own with the Black Widow of Whitehall, meant to be repaid by her inheritance once it was successfully retrieved, something she tried to forget every time she thought about a future with Tristan.
Guilt stabbed at her. Felicity was supposed to marry someone who was part of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s matchmaking scheme, a person whose status and power would force her father to concede her inheritance and pay her debt to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. But Felicity knew now she would marry Tristan or no one at all. Would she have to make a new bargain to pay her debt? Would she be thrown out of the Den, out of the protection of the Den? Tristan was adamant that they could not make a life together here. Not in his little rented room and little income. Perhaps she could become an employee of the Den, if it came to that. Then she and Tristan could see each other often. But she’d still be at the mercy of her father and Chadwick if she was not married.
Felicity hated this world where her only freedom from the tyranny of her father was to become another man’s property.
Lady Amelia led her to her dressing room and with the help of Lady Amelia’s lady’s maid, Fran, they picked through Lady Amelia’s extravagant evening dresses. The sum of these gowns might be more than the cost of all of Winter’s Well.
“This one is always a stunner,” Fran said. She held up a dress of metallic silver. It had no adornment. It hung like liquid and shimmered in the lamp light.
“Hmm.” Lady Amelia folded one arm and set her chin on her fist as she studied the dress and then squinted at Felicity.
“No, too brazen. Miss Brandon has an air of delicate strength. Still water and all that.”
Felicity frowned. “I do?”
“Absolutely,” Fran said. “I knew it from the start.”
Felicity rolled her eyes at the maid and Fran chuckled. They’d spent quite a bit of time together when she was here as a nurse. Quite often Lord Alston would be sleeping or in the company of Miss Blakewood, and Felicity would retreat to the kitchens and visit with the servants. She felt more comfortable with the working class than among the sophisticated nobles.
“You knew no such thing. You didn’t even know my name.”
“I knew there was something different about you,” Fran teased. “Most people share their family history and life stories, but you were as tight lipped as a rosebud. That meant you were hiding something.”
“I had—have reasons.”
“Of course, dear. Which is why we were still friends at the time.”
Felicity frowned. “What do you meanwere? Are we not friends still?”
Fran shrugged. “You’re a lady. ’Tis different now.”
“It’s true, unfortunately,” Lady Amelia said.
“I’m not a lady,” Felicity protested.
“A vicar’s daughter is still gentry,” Lady Amelia said.
“I’ve plucked chickens. I scraped dung off my father’s boots. I’m not a lady in any sense of the word.”
Lady Amelia patted her shoulder. “Don’t be hurt. She also claims she’s not my friend, yet declares she’ll spend the rest of her life by my side.” Lady Amelia smiled at Fran.
“Unless I marry that tall, spooky doctor,” Fran countered.
Lady Amelia laughed. “He’s married to his work. Don’t set your hopes on him.”
Fran wiggled her eyebrows. “Dr. Sloan will fall to my charms at some point. Just wait.”
“When would he have the time now that he’s not here?”
Fran crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “On my day off I take him freshly made scones. There are two ways to a man’s heart: his stomach and his trousers.”
Lady Amelia scoffed and then laughed while Felicity turned pink. Then Lady Amelia winked. “I don’t cook.”
Fran slapped her thigh and giggled madly.
Felicity watched the two of them and then realized something. They were friends after all, despite their different positions in class. Felicity smiled and caught sight of a sapphire-blue gown that reminded her of Tristan’s eyes. She fingered the delicate silk sleeve.
