Rejected
“…because I cannot imagine living my life without you in it every single day, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Jules, the Earl of Westerley, was on one knee, clasping her hands and gazing into her eyes. “And because I love you.”
Huddled against the wall, Lady Felicity Brightley watched the man she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember, make a most heartfelt and romantic proposal.
To another woman.
She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. In fact, she wished herself anywhere else in the world. Up until that night, some small part of her heart had hoped Westerley would come to his senses. He would realize, of course, that he loved her.
That it had all been a horrible mistake.
Only it seemed that she was the one mistaken.
“Yes!” The beaming, red-haired beauty answered.
“No…” Felicity couldn’t stop the gasp of pain as the couple embraced, her own world falling apart as she watched the man to whom she’d been promised for most of her life gaze into another woman’s eyes.
Westerley was going to marry, of all things, an American!
Felicity’s fists clenched so tight that the sharp edges of her nails bit through the silk of her gloves. Drat it all, she didn’thateMiss Charley Jackson, even though she wished she could. Hating her might have made this easier somehow.
Even if Felicity had become an unintended casualty.
For as long as she could remember, she’d expected to one day be Felicity Fitzwilliam, the Countess of Westerley; Jules’ wife! How had this happened?
She was the woman he was supposed to have singled out! Tonight ought to have beenhershining moment! She’d waited so patiently!
She wanted to rant and rave about the injustice of his betrayal. But, of course, she did not. Because that would not be proper. It would not be polite.
A lady accepted all things with dignity and poise, even when she felt like weeping inside.
If she’d been going to make a fuss, she’d had her chance to do that in private. He’d met with her in his study a few days before and informed her that he would not be holding up his end of their betrothal.
Although the meeting had not, in fact, been in private. Westerley had asked Bethany, his sister, to be present.
And as Felicity sat listening to his carefully worded explanation, she had bit her tongue and smiled. Just as she was doing now and would do for the remainder of the ball.
Even if her mouth shattered into a thousand pieces while doing so.
She couldn’t tarnish the evening that Lady Westerley had so painstakingly thrown as a culmination to her late winter house party.
Tabetha, Westerley’s other sister, met her gaze across the room with questioning and concerned eyes.
Felicity nodded to reassure the younger girl.
“I’m fine,” she mouthed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Tabetha sent back a relieved smile.
Her fiancé’s sisters, no, herformerfiancé’s sisters, were two of Felicity’s dearest friends. Was she going to lose them as well?
Felicity rubbed the spot over her heart.
This pain felt all too real—a piercing of her soul, initially, and now a subtle aching torture. Jules was leading Miss Jackson around the room, accepting the congratulations of Lord Chaswick, Lord Greystone, both Mr. Spencers, and good God, even her father.
Felicity pushed herself off the wall. “Pardon me.” She maneuvered her way out of the card room, nodding as the countess of Sheffield complimented her gown. “Thank you, my lady.” She flashed a bright smile, knowing people would be watching to see her reaction.
But of course, more than one pair of curious eyes followed her hasty exit. She would apologize later. For now, she only knew she needed away.
