But Mantis needed to see her.
He needed to apologize. He needed to reassure himself, and her as well. He just… needed… her.
So by the time he’d been escorted up the staircase and into the large drawing room to find her sitting with his very own sister, his relief was almost dizzying.
And although she might appear mysterious to anyone else, he saw right through it. She might be holding her teacup just so, and making proper conversation with those seated around her, but she was a woman with secrets. Secrets he was extremely grateful to be in on.
“Do sit down, Manningham,” Felicity’s mother interrupted his thoughts.
He had not expected to find Louisa in attendance, seated beside Lady Brightley. Apparently, all was forgiven.
“Ladies,” he bowed. “Louisa.”
His father’s wife indicated the space beside her. “I understand you had quite the harrowing experience at Vauxhall last night.”
What the devil?
Felicity would not have told anyone about the attack. In fact, they’d all decided to keep it under wraps. So who…?
Mantis lowered himself onto the settee. “It was nothing,” he answered cautiously, his gaze shifting to Felicity.
“It was harrowing, but I imagine Vauxhall is a favorite spot for thieves and pickpockets.” Felicity shrugged.
Beautiful, sexy, sweet, and on top of all that, clever. Despite being targeted by some unknown murderer, he’d not change places with another man in all the world.
“It is coming to be something of a common occurrence. Odds were that it was bound to happen to one of us at some point,” Bethany chirped. She then brushed at some lint on her skirt and turned to address his stepmother, specifically. “Who was that handsome child you were walking with this morning?”
“My son, Conner Lupton, the fourth. Saturday morning is our day to walk in the park. As long as he completes his studies, of course. And he is even smarter than he is handsome. His tutors say he’ll enter university at least two years earlier than his contemporaries.”
“The younger boy is named after the earl?” Lady Brightley’s brows furrowed. This was not the first time someone would show confusion at their names.
It wasn’t at all normal, and Mantis usually kept silent rather than explain that his father had refused to give his name to an infant who was sure to die.
“Speaking of walking,” Felicity turned to him, “Will you stroll with me in the garden? I’d like your opinion on which flowers we ought to use as centerpieces.”
“Centerpieces?” Mantis rubbed his palms along the tops of his legs. “But of course.”
“Young love. Isn’t it the most wonderful thing?” Lady Brightley had already moved on to what he was beginning to believe might be her favorite subject—her daughter’s pending nuptials.
Mantis only hoped she didn’t mention the babe in front of her other guests today.
But he refused to worry about that. Mantis rose and offered Felicity his arm.
“How are you?” He waited until after they’d stepped into the sunlight.
“I am well,” she answered. “How are you?”
He laughed. “Much better now. I’m always better when I am in your company. Did you really want my opinion on the decorations? Because I must warn you, I know next to nothing about flowers.”
She giggled, and in that moment, he realized he’d forgotten something vital in his urgent quest to protect her.
The courtship.
“What is your favorite flower?” he asked.
“It is quite unoriginal, I’m afraid.” And then she sighed. “Red roses. Did you know they signify romantic love? My mother says this is because they are not only beautiful and silky, but because the thorns can be merciless. There isn’t anything more beautiful, nonetheless, than a red rose in bloom.”
She brushed some hair away from her face as they strolled along the well-tended flagstone path. “A complicated flower,” Mantis commented.
