“Would you rather have Serendipity as a chaperone?” Merry wiggled her nose, then took a sip of her tea.
After a cutting look at her sister, Felicity turned back to Drake. “Ihope you do not think it presumptuous of me, but I brought quite a few cakes. Serendipity mentioned that you are sheltering a disabled war veteran who served with your uncle. I thought the cakes might brighten his day as well.”
Clenching his teeth at the mention of his self-serving uncle, Drake forced a smile. “How kind of you, Lady Felicity. I am quite certain Mr. Pembroke will be most grateful.”
“I am glad.” Felicity took a bite of a cress sandwich, mesmerizing him with the way her lips embraced the bread. He nearly groaned aloud when she flicked her tongue out and licked a bit of butter off the corner of her mouth. She smiled and patted her napkin to her face. “I am sorry. Do I have more crumbs?”
“No, my lady. You have only beauty.” He startled himself with such boldness. “Forgive my forwardness, but it had to be said.”
Her cheeks took on an even rosier shade, and she wore the color well.
“Do you have a library, my lord?” Merry asked as she set her tea aside. “I adore books and would love to peruse your collection while you and Felli finish your tea.”
Aghast at her sister’s brazenness, Felicity turned to her. “Could you possibly be more obvious?”
“I am trying to be helpful.” Merry rose and arched a brow at him. “Well, Lord Wakefield? Where might I wander for a bit? That is, as long as I have your word that nothing unseemly will take place in this parlor and that the doors shall remain wide open.”
More than a little grateful for the opportunity, Drake rose from his seat and nodded at Yateston. “Show Lady Merry to the library, please.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Before the helpful young woman left them to themselves, Drake offered her a formal bow. “Thank you, Lady Merry, and let me assure you that I would never compromise your sister.”
Merry attempted a sternness and failed when she grinned. “Seethat you do not.” She flitted out of the room, chattering nonstop to Yateston.
Drake returned to the tea table. “More tea, Lady Felicity?”
She joined him. “There is no need to serve me, my lord. I should pour.” As she leaned to fill their cups, one of her curls fell forward onto her cheek, and without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear.
She gasped and met his gaze, her sapphire eyes wide with wonder and her temptingly kissable lips parted.
He let his hand fall away. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I could not resist.”
“No forgiveness necessary,” she said just as softly, then seemed to shake herself. She held out his teacup, holding it between them. “Your tea, my lord.”
“Thank you.” There were so many things he wished to say to her, but the shadow of the greatest lie of all, the lie about his title, lay heavily on his heart. “I cannot tell you how much your visit means to me, my lady. I feared the bitter biscuits were your way of sending me away so that other suitors might take my place.”
Her fair brows arched even higher. “Suitors?”
“Yes, I am sure you have many.”
With a sad smile, she turned away, but rather than return to her seat, she took her tea to the window. “Wakefield Manor is quite lovely.”
“There is no need to lie, my lady.”
With a slow shake of her head, she kept her gaze locked on whatever was beyond the window’s pane. “It is no lie, my lord. The estate but needs a bit of care. It has good bones, my papa would say. Good bones and a good foundation mean everything.”
“Your papa sounds as though he was very wise.” He joined her at the window that overlooked a luscious meadow of barley. The summer’s breeze rippled across the sea of verdant green, making thegrasses dance and sway.
“Papa always knew what to do. Very wise, indeed.” A heavy sigh left her. “I miss him still.”
“I understand, my lady. I too miss my father and his wisdom.” Drake found himself staring at the way the light from the window played across her, setting her golden hair aglow as if she truly were an angel. “There was never a situation that stymied my father,” he said, “and I could always go to him for advice.” His father would not have approved of the dangerous lie Drake was living, even though it kept Uncle George alive. Unlike his brother, Father was an honorable man. But how could Drake tell Felicity the truth? To do so would surely dash any and all hopes of courting her.
“What would your father say about me?” she asked quietly, then huffed a soft laugh. “‘Cast a blind eye to her many drawbacks, my son, and marry her quickly for her dowry’?”
He set his tea aside, then took hers from her and set it aside too. He gently took her hands and turned her toward him. “I see no drawbacks, my lady, and I wish I could tell you the dowry did not matter, but your own eyes can see that it does.”
She stared up at him, looking into his very soul. “I will not marry for anything less than love, my lord. Love for me. Not love for my money.”
