“I didn’t want to be associated with my brother. That’s all.”
“You could have told me.”
“I could have. And you could have told me your real name. But neither of us did for our own reasons.”
“What is your reason?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I got used to it. My father always called me Tristan Chase when he was cross with me. It seemed fitting to use.”
Now it was Felicity’s turn to sigh. Exhaustion weighed her down and Tristan’s warmth soothed the tension in her body. But she still didn’t want tomorrow to come.
“I love you,” he whispered and then kissed the top of her head.
“Then you’ll take me with you tomorrow,” she whispered back. He groaned and she smiled. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Felicity sensed shewas alone before she woke. She lurched from the bed, Tristan and his clothing gone.
“The nerve of him!”
Frantic tapping came from her door and Felicity hurried to open it.
“They’re attempting to go without us. Get dressed,” Lady Amelia said. Matilda followed her in and without even thinking about her modesty Felicity was dressed and hair plaited and pinned in a matter of minutes. When they left her room and hastily tread the stairs to the foyer, Blakewood stood there waiting with his arms folded.
“Darling, I love that you think you can stop me,” Lady Amelia said sweetly.
“Sam went as his second.”
“What?” Lady Amelia cried. “That fool. Out of the way!”
Blakewood sighed. “I’ve already got the curricle. Sam sent the carriage to drive aimlessly around the city.”
“I’m going to bludgeon him the first chance I get!”
Blakewood lifted Lady Amelia up into the curricle. Felicity balked at the height and the sheer... daintiness of the contraption. She’d never seen such a reckless conveyance. It was lacquered in brightyellow and being pulled by two matching gray thoroughbreds.
“How . . .?”
“It’s recommended you hold on for dear life,” Blakewood said. He took her by the waist and lifted her to the seat. Felicity gripped the edge of the seat with all her strength, as if the whole contraption might tip if she moved.
Lady Amelia’s husband strode toward the rear where a horse was being held.
“Wait, who’s driving this conveyance?” Felicity asked in alarm.
Lady Amelia grinned. “Me, of course.”
“Fear not, Miss Brandon, my wife happens to be an excellent driver. Better than myself.”
“The key is absolute confidence,” Lady Amelia said. “Hold on.”
She snapped the reins, and the rig jolted forward. Felicity slid back into the seat and had to let go with one hand to hold her bonnet on her head.
Lady Amelia drove at breakneck speed through narrow streets and crowded markets with an ease that amazed Felicity. Behind them, Mr. Blakewood kept pace on his horse.
Felicity remembered this ride taking a significant amount of time when she and Tristan had taken the carriage out to Richmond Park. How long ago that now seemed.
“Will we make it in time?” she asked.
