She released his arm as they emerged from the roses and seated herself at the table. Serendipity had already poured and looked ready to pounce.
Felicity barely shook her head and whispered, “All is well.” She prayed that was the truth. She offered the salver of her prized biscuits to the earl. “My lord?”
“Absolutely.” He helped himself to not one, but three, piling them onto the small plate beside his teacup. But when he sank his teeth intothe first one, his eagerness disappeared. He pressed a fist to his mouth and gave a single, barking cough. His face turned bright red.
“My lord? Are you all right?” Felicity rose from her chair and struck him between his shoulder blades, uncertain what else to do.
Lord Wakefield turned aside and coughed again, all the while chewing hard with his fist clamped to his mouth.
“Water. He needs water. Fipps!” Felicity called out. “Hurry! We need water.”
Merry hopped up and ran to the door, nearly running head-on into Fipps as he rushed forward with a glass and pitcher of water.
Serendipity snatched it from him, filled the glass, and handed it to the earl.
Wakefield grabbed it with both hands, drained it, then held it out again. “More, please.”
Serendipity filled it again, then set the pitcher in front of him.
“Good heavens, my lord.” Without thinking, Felicity rubbed and patted his back. “Are you quite well now? Did you choke on some loose crumbs?”
“Yes, crumbs,” he agreed in a strained voice, almost wheezing the words. “Forgive me, but I must take my leave now.”
“Of course, my lord.” Felicity awkwardly stopped rubbing his back, realizing it was most unseemly. She stepped away. “Fipps, do see Lord Wakefield out and ensure he is quite all right.”
Fipps bowed. “Of course, my lady.”
With the butler’s help, the Earl of Wakefield hurried from the room.
“Thank heavens the man did not die on us,” Serendipity said as she plopped back into her chair.
“That would have made for some interesting gossip,” Merry commented.
“Merry!” Felicity sagged into her seat and propped her head in her hands. What an afternoon it had been—a disturbing one in so manyways. She picked up a biscuit and bit into it.
Immediately, a bitterness so sharp and choking that it made her jaws throb filled her mouth. She jumped up and spat the mouthful into the bushes. “Oh, good heavens, what on earth did I do to them?”
Merry hazarded a nibble, then did the same, spitting the bite into a planter of lilies. She coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “The man is going to think you wished to poison him.”
Horrified, Felicity stared down at the innocent biscuit that smelled so lemony and was a beautiful golden brown. What had gone wrong? What had she done? And, oh dear heavens, what would Lord Wakefield surely think? Then it came to her, making her gasp. “The sugar. Walters came in just as I was about to add the rest of the sugar.” She groaned, closing her eyes and seeing her mistake as plain as day. “I failed to add the sugar and doubled—nay, not only doubled buttripledthe zest from the lemon and added some lime as well.” She held her head. “He will think I tried to poison him to scare him away, because I told him we saw his garden.”
“You what?” Serendipity looked sharply at each of them in turn.
Merry assumed a nonchalant air and sipped her tea. “We merely passed by the Wakefield estate on our way home from the village.”
“The Wakefield estate is not on the main thoroughfare.” Serendipity sat taller, obviously winding up to take them to task.
“I knew Lord Wakefield was coming to call today. He asked permission when we met in Mettlestone’s.” Felicity shot Merry a silencing glare. They might as well confess. Serendipity would discover the truth of it anyway.
“He asked permission to come calling as soon as he was introduced to you in Mettlestone’s? That was rather bold of him.” Serendipity’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me the rest. I see it brewing, and you are wrinkling your nose.”
Drat her infernal telltale nose. Felicity pinched it as if that would calm the traitorous thing. “I met him in Lady Atterley’s kitchen on thenight of her dinner party. Except he thought me a kitchen maid rather than a daughter of Broadmere.”
Serendipity slowly pulled in a deep breath and held it, a sure sign she was doing her level best to control her temper. “And how did he behave when he thought you were a servant?”
“He was kindness itself and spoke to me as respectfully as he spoke today.”
Her sister gave her a long, slow look, then aimed her scowl at Merry. “Felicity would have never taken it upon herself to spy on the Wakefield estate if she had not been encouraged.”
