Proud. Aristocratic. Masculine. But so much more!
She could barely suppress a shiver of awareness.
The music began, and he whisked her around the floor, making her feel like a princess… light and airy, almost as though she was flying.
Like an angel.
Even with all eyes watching them, he leaned closer and whispered, “I’d hold you closer if I thought I could get away with it.”
“I might allow it even if you couldn’t.”
To which he growled—growled!—near her ear. He spun her effortlessly, and Felicity didn’t bother stifling her laugh.
Because she was happy.
“When are you free to walk in the garden?” Axel’s question was a good one, and she glanced at the card her mother tied onto her wrist earlier that evening.
“You did save another set for me, didn’t you?”
She moved her hand to check again, but… “I’m going to kill my mother.” Even the Supper set had been promised—to a distant uncle no less.
“In that case—” Axel pulled her closer, almost as scandalously close as he’d held her when they danced at Vauxhall. “I’ll have to make the most of this one. But tomorrow night, you are all mine.”
Niggling Doubts
Felicity had hoped she would get a good night’s sleep when she climbed into bed. The last thing she wanted was to look haggard and tired when promenaded toward her groom at the altar.
Her body, however, refused to cooperate.
Or rather, her mind refused.
Because as she lay in her bed, she couldn’t stop reimagining the events of the night, remembering conversations, and reliving the most romantic dance of her life…
Axel had been as preoccupied as she had been. Not on the dance floor, although he danced some lively sets with both Lord Greystone’s cousins and Lord Chaswick’s sisters, but mostly with other gentlemen. He all but disappeared for the second half of the night, and almost as though by habit, she’d found herself worrying for his safety. Even after her mother had reassured her that he was heartily engaged with the gentlemen in the card room.
She would have felt better if she’d been able to find him to say goodbye.
“A bridegroom mustn’t see his bride on their wedding day,” Lady Crestwood had insisted while sending her mother an indulgent smirk. “And since midnight has come and gone, I refuse to send for him. I’ll have no part in inviting bad luck.”
Felicity rolled to her other side and punched her pillow.
There was no such thing as bad luck.
He’d told her he didn’t believe himself to be in any danger. That man that died had told him his father wasn’t involved.
Was it wise to believe the words of a criminal?
Was it possible to love Axel and not trust his judgment?
Felicity threw an arm over her eyes. This was ridiculous. She had no reason whatsoever not to trust him.
The next morning, when she stared into the looking glass over her vanity, the first thing she noticed were dark circles etched beneath her eyes.
“Whoever decided weddings should be held in the morning deserves to be shot,” she grumbled.
“Cold feet?” Susan teased.
It wasn’t cold feet. Felicity inhaled a deep breath. Not at all.
