“But it goes beyond all of that,” Bethany went on. “And I wish I understood how you do it, but… men see you.All men, gentlemen, and rogues alike.”
“They see you,” Felicity protested, her heart weighed down by guilt.
“As a friend, or a sisterly type, perhaps. But not as someone to court. No need to deny this as I’ve quite come to terms with the notion.” But a hint of sadness lurked in Bethany’s eyes. “Let’s embark on our shopping adventure, now, shall we? I’m hoping we have time for a visit to Gunter’s.”
“For tea or ices?”
“Both. But we’ll need your father’s carriage and driver as I arrived on foot.” As was usually the case. Having been acquainted for over half their lives, the two girls had made this exact outing on numerous other occasions. Sometimes with Tabetha in tow and occasionally with Westerley’s escort.
Yet another change…
“Do you really think Tabetha can land a duke?” Felicity asked as the carriage pulled into the street. It was not as though the younger girl would have many dukes to choose from. Aside from Blackheart, Felicity could count the number of eligible dukes she knew of on one hand. And of those, she couldn’t recall a single one who was young and handsome.
“I wouldn’t put it past her. Can you remember any time Tabetha didn’t get what she wanted?”
Felicity could not.
They drove along in silence, Felicity feeling more like an imposter with each second that passed. “I’m not perfect, Bethany, far from it, in fact.”
“Well,” Bethany stared out the window. “You’re as close to perfect as anyone I know. You aren’t overly fussy with unimportant details like I am, and don’t pretend you haven’t noticed that I’m a little particular about unimportant things. Nor do you fumble for words while conversing with people.” She raised her hand. “P-I-C-K-Y.” She tapped her thumb to each finger and then folded her thumb down as she counted out each letter. And then “C-L-U-T-Z.”
“You may be a little fastidious, but you’re much smarter than I am,” Felicity interjected.
“Perhaps,” Bethany sighed. “And I apologize for calling you perfect. It’s a terrible burden to have to live up to.” The grin she sent Felicity’s direction was a teasing one.
Felicity rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”
“Oh, look!” Bethany leaned closer to one of the windows. “It’s Mantis and Greys, but they aren’t alone. I don’t know either of those ladies. Do you suppose Chaswick is in town as well?”
Felicity leaned forward in surprise. For all of Manningham’s insistence that he would call upon her, she’d arrived in London three days ago and not heard a peep. Perhaps he’d forgotten all about his promise.
Slowing their steps to match their companions, Manningham and the marquess strolled along the walk, navigating a path amongst similarly fashionable people. On Greystone’s arm, a tall, elegant lady and on Manningham’s a shorter, rounder lady who all but bounced along beside him. Felicity got a glimpse of their faces, but neither seemed familiar. The taller woman was older and held her head high. The shorter woman was younger and seemed far less concerned with maintaining her dignity.
Felicity touched her lips with her fingertips. Had he moved along so easily?
She inhaled and then released a long breath. Good for Manningham. He’d wanted a wife, and perhaps he had found one.
Yes.Good for him.
And yet, a sick feeling settled in her belly. This scenario was precisely what she’d expected.
She’d been right not to trust in his sense of duty. Even the kindest of men were inclined to shift their affections at the drop of a hat.
“Chaswick isn’t with them.” Bethany was miserable at hiding her feelings.
“He’ll turn up.” Of course, Chaswick would, but he’d never be the man Bethany wanted him to be. He was likely worse than Westerley and Manningham put together when it came to charming ladies.
Both of them released heavy sighs with a hint of longing and then turned to smile ruefully at each other.
Because for a moment, Felicity had hoped Manningham might be different than those other gentlemen.
She’d already pined after one man, and she wasn’t about to pine after another.
Please, God, bring my courses before Mayday. She sent up a silent prayer and then leaned back on the carriage bench, determined to summon enthusiasm for the afternoon and then for the dizzying round of activities planned for the weeks ahead.
“Now, tell me about this Hampden fellow’s books.”
First Ball of the Season
