Blackheart stared at Mantis as though working some sort of mental puzzle.
“Nothing I do satisfies him.” Mantis’ own words struck him like a sword. But it was true. And it was high time he stopped trying. “Aside from that, I don’t know what the hell is going on.” And then he finally voiced that which troubled him the most. “Is it possible someone intentionally poisoned me? Was the shot in the park really an accident?” He allowed himself to utter all the questions that plagued him while he lay in his bed. It hadn’t helped that he’d felt too weak to do anything about it.
“If something happens to me before my wedding, I need to know one of you will ensure Felicity’s protected.”
“Of course,” Greys answered immediately, and Blackheart dipped his chin in agreement.
“But I’ve no intention of losing one of my oldest friends to an unfortunate accident mere days before his wedding.” Blackheart planted his feet wide, hands clasped behind his back. “My Lord,” he turned to Greys. “It seems I might be absent from my post this evening.”
Greys shifted his attention to their ducal friend. “You don’t say, Mr. Cockfield?”
“I have a friend in need of assistance.”
Mantis exhaled. He, too, had realized that the chaos of Vauxhall would be the perfect setting for another attempt—if, in fact there was some insidious plot behind the recent events. Having Blackheart and whatever resources he chose to put into place milling about couldn’t hurt.
“Chaswick is returned from their flight to Gretna Green. He and his baroness will be joining us this evening as well,” Greys provided. “Westerley and Spencer are back in town but have other matters to attend to.”
“Excellent,” Mantis said. With four of them present, he could almost trust the evening to be uneventful.
Shuffling outside the closed door, and then Lady Posy’s voice interrupted their discussion.
“Must I go? Really?”
“Vauxhall is nothing like the garden parties and balls. Trust me. You cannot help but enjoy yourself there.”
“I don’t see how—”
Miss Violet’s shushing sounds carried from behind the door, followed by Cordelia’s laughter.
Before they could knock, Blackheart held it open and gestured for the ladies to enter. Greys and Mantis rose in deference to their arrival but also in anticipation of making their departure.
Mantis, perhaps, showing more impatience than the others. Because they could finally leave to collect Felicity.
Even though Felicityhad anticipated the evening, Axel’s appearance had her wondering if they shouldn’t have perhaps postponed the outing. His normally robust complexion lacked color, and the steps he took were slower than usual—almost cautious.
How did he still manage to look more handsome than every other gentleman in London?
She didn’t make her opinion known, however, when Cordelia, Lord Greystone, and his cousins followed them inside.
Instead, she greeted the arrivals, complimenting the ladies’ dresses, accepting their compliments in turn, and then pondered what sort of wrap to bring. When the marquess insisted the evening promised to be a warm one, with everyone in agreement, Felicity sent Mr. Michaels to collect the silk cloak Susan would have had ready.
The gold material perfectly complimented the deep red of her gown—one which she would never wear to any official ton event but had dared to bring out for the Vauxhall excursion.
Vauxhall was the only place in London, it seemed, where proper ladies and gentlemen were practically encouraged to ignore a few of society’s proprieties.
Furthermore, she and Susan had reasoned, the cut of this particular gown ensured that it wouldn’t fit her much longer.
With transparent puffed sleeves, the gown allowed for an almost indecent amount of cleavage if not for the fichu Felicity had decided upon. The scarlet silk material hugged her bosom and ribcage and then flared out just below her waist. The moment Mr. Michaels opened the door, a breeze swirled the fabric around her legs.
“I don’t understand how you manage to look more beautiful every time I see you. But tonight, Felicity, you have outdone yourself.” Axel offered his arm for escort and they made their way outside to Lord Greystone’s carriage.
If his almost poetic compliment wasn’t enough, the appreciative look in her betrothed’s eyes deemed Susan’s efforts worthwhile. In the past, she’d dressed to please the members of society, but this gown had been purchased to please herself. That it also pleased her future husband sent an excited shiver dancing down her spine.
The look she saw in his eyes when she turned to thank him stole her breath. She had seen that look in his gaze before, just before he’d dipped his head and—
“Positively stunning.” The tip of his tongue wet his lips.
This close, she could make out the individual whiskers around his mouth, and the thick fringe of lashes framing his hazel eyes, and… an almost imperceptible sheen of perspiration on his brow and upper lip.
