Felicity’s bonnet soon drooped so low, she removed it so she could see. “I thought we could at least make it home,” she said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the deluge.
“Forgive me for not having a carriage, my lady.” Dark hair drenched and plastered to his head, Drake shook the water off his hat and carried it at his side. “This is contemptible.”
“It is not,” Felicity said, finding his appearance wild and breathtaking. “I like the rain.”
“She does,” Merry chimed in. “As a child, she was always the last to come inside whenever it rained, and that was only at Mama’s insistence.”
He removed his coat and draped it around Felicity’s shoulders. “If you catch your death, I shall never forgive myself.”
His warm scent of sandalwood and citrus surrounded her, making her breathe deeply to savor it. “I am quite hearty, my lord. This wallflower is not a fragile lily.” She couldn’t help but stare at the way his soaked shirt clung to his muscular chest. My goodness, it was as though he wore no shirt at all. With great reluctance and finding a strength she never knew she had, she tore her eyes away and forced her gaze back to his face.
He gave her that lopsided smile that said he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Her cheeks heated with a furious blush.
“Will you come inside, Lord Wakefield?” Merry shouted as she pushed open the gate to Broadmere Hall. “I am sure Chance would gladly offer you a brandy to help you dry out.”
Without pulling his gaze from Felicity’s, he slowly shook his head. “I best not, Lady Merry. You and Lady Felicity hurry along now, before this soaking makes you ill.”
Hugging his coat around her one last time, Felicity removed it ever so slowly. “Thank you, Drake. I truly enjoyed our time today.”
He accepted it with a nod so formal, one would think them in a ballroom. “I enjoyed our time as well, Felicity. More than you will ever know.” He bowed over her hand, then grazed a quick kiss to her gloved fingers. “Until our next time, my lady.”
“Yes.” Felicity tried to remember how to breathe, but it was so difficult with her heart thumping like a herd of galloping horses. “Until our next time.”
*
Drake groaned ashe walked home, ignoring the storm pelting him down the lane.Gads alive.The way her porcelain skin had glistened with the rain. She was a voluptuous sculpture of the rarest marble. A sea nymph risen from the waves with her hair in disarray, clinging to her face and sending curling tendrils along her throat, creeping toward her bosom. Felicity was the living embodiment of Botticelli’sThe Birth of Venus. And the way the wet muslin clung to her curves…
He groaned again. What he wouldn’t give for the opportunity to worship her as she so deserved. He shook his head at the rakish thought. No, Felicity deserved the very best. While he wouldn’t mind stealing a sumptuous kiss or two, the best would be saved for their wedding night.
Their wedding night.He liked the sound of that and wondered how soon he might be able to make that happen. Instinct told him not topush too hard. Such an action could be misread as eagerness to get his hands on her dowry. No, he had to be patient. Courting Felicity with purpose and care was something they both needed.
He lifted his face to the rain and smiled. She loved rain, cress-and-butter sandwiches, and was happiest in her kitchens. A lady of privilege who shunned the chaos of Society for simple things and quiet ways. His shy little mouse was more powerful than she could possibly realize. There was a steeliness within her of which she had no idea. Felicity would weather anything and everything with grace. She possessed him, heart and soul.
Could he be any more fortunate? He stretched out his arms and embraced the deluge, delighting in the revelations the storm had brought. Then his conscience nudged him with a quiet reminder of the very large lie that could ruin it all. He dropped his arms and unleashed a heavy sigh. How would Felicity react to the greatest ruse of all: his very-much-alive uncle?
Chapter Eight
“Ithought atreat of ices would be nice and refreshing before our promenade with Lord Wakefield.” Merry led the way to the white wrought-iron chairs at their favorite table in Caruthers Treat Shop. The quaint confectioner in the center of the village of Binnocksbourne had become the place to see and be seen when thetonretired to the Lake District for the summer. “Which flavor shall you choose today?”
Felicity smiled and idly twitched a shoulder while watching passersby through the wide front window of the shop. She had no idea what flavor of ice or sorbet she wanted. It was just as sweet and a great deal more pleasant to drift away into lovely imaginings of another promenade with Drake. He was so attentive, so enjoyable to be around, so very kind and caring. Thatsomethingbetween them had wiggled into her guarded heart and taken over. “You choose, Merry,” she said with a contented little sigh. “What did we have last time?”
“Horse manure.”
“Sounds delicious,” Felicity said, before realizing what her sister had suggested. “Merry! How awful of you to say such a thing.”
“Well, what was I to do? You had that glassy-eyed look again, and I knew I had lost you to the imaginings of your handsome suitor.”
“I cannot help it.” Felicity also couldn’t stop smiling. “He makes me happy.” And that was an understatement of all that he made her feel. Not only did he steal her breath away with the excitement of hispresence, but he wassafe. Comfortable. Perhaps not the most romantic way to describe a man she might someday marry, but it meant more to her than anyone else could ever understand. Drake cared about her feelings and seeing that she was treated with kindness and care, unlike many of the gentlemen of her acquaintance. The more she was with him, the more she trusted him, and trust won over her heart more quickly than anything else.
“I shall have the maple ice again,” she finally said in response to Merry rolling her eyes. “And do not be so insufferable. You encouraged this, and just wait untilyoubecome smitten. I wager you will be even worse.”
Merry snorted. “I have yet to find suitable material with which to become smitten.”
Ignoring her sister, Felicity waved over her dear friend, Mrs. Caruthers, from where the rosy-cheeked matron hovered nearby, obviously straining to overhear their conversation. She was a notorious gossip—if the shopkeeper’s wife didn’t know about it, then it was not worth knowing. “Come and join us, Mrs. Caruthers. I am sure Sarah and Mr. Caruthers can do without you for a little while.”
Mrs. Caruthers glanced around the busy shop, then hurried to take a seat. “Well…perhaps just for a moment.” She went uncharacteristically serious as she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “There was a matter I wished to speak with you about, Lady Felicity. A matter of grave concern.”
