She all but choked on relief as she dropped onto the chair beside her bed. Not only was he safe, but he was in good humor and had even managed to sound romantic. Just as she’d treasured the flowers, she kept each note hidden away in her jewelry box.
Someday, she would read through them and look back on this time and laugh at the drama of it all… that, or cry.
She prayed she wouldn’t be looking back on it alone.
“I’ll certainly be happy when all this is over.” Susan went to work mixing a cup of tea the way Felicity liked it.
“Me, too, Susan.” Which was the understatement of the century.
The last time he’d come to her, his visit had been short, barely allowing him time enough to fill her in on their progress—or lack thereof. She hadn’t asked for details because in the moments her mother stepped out, Axel had taken it upon himself to show her in no uncertain terms how much he missed her.
Tomorrow, after the ceremony and the wedding breakfast, she and Axel could begin their lives together without having to please anyone but themselves. They wouldn’t have to worry about being stumbled upon or interrupted, and the two of them could do all sorts of delicious things in the privacy of the bed-chamber in their own house on Farm Street.
They could simplybetogether.
“I have your gown pressed and laid out on the bad. A bath will be readied shortly.” Susan examined the list she’d been keeping. “And the roses are scheduled to be delivered at five this evening. Can you think of anything I might be missing?” Felicity shook her head. She couldn’t ask for a more efficient lady’s maid.
The gown she would wear to her wedding tomorrow was made up of mint green and pristine whites. She would wear a crown made up of ivy and tiny white flowers and carry a similar bouquet.
Tonight, however, she’d gone in an entirely different direction.
Her silk gown was a deep scarlet color and would have been considered exceptionally revealing, but for the lace fichu she would tuck into her bodice. And in her hair, Susan was going to weave fifteen tiny red roses.
“Not eating isn’t going to help time pass any more quickly,” her maid pointed out helpfully.
“Quite right.” Felicity buttered a piece of her toast and shivered unexpectedly. One more day. He would be safe in one more day.
“Our uninvited guestis still out there,” Stone Spencer announced. “He disappears behind the large oak and then shows up from the opposite side.”
After three failed attempts to trap the weasel, Mantis had kept himself hidden for the past two days. In that time, they’d spied a very unexceptional looking person lurking on the street for no apparent reason. Dark brown coat, grey trousers, dusty boots, and a dulled black cap would have been commonplace anywhere else, but this was Mayfair.
His very blandness was, in fact, what set him apart.
He had to be their man.
Mantis was ready—more than ready. He bent forward, tapped the side of his boot where he’d hidden his knife, and then straightened, flexing his hands and summoning his focus for the task on hand. His heartbeat was slow and even, and the air filling his lungs sent power surging through him.
“You remember the route?” Greystone stood beside him, looking even more like a dandy than usual—intentionally.
Mantis and the marquess would appear to be in deep conversation. They would feign disinterest in their surroundings and seem distracted from the possibility of any threats. The ruse would hopefully be invitation enough for the villain to make his move.
Blackheart held the door, and Mantis and Greys stepped outside, Greys swinging a gleaming walking stick and Mantis clutching his hat in front of him.
Without having to look, Mantis felt the man watching them. As he and Greys made their way toward an unpopulated parcel of the park, he had no doubt they were being followed.
They would be successful this time, and Mantis could put Felicity’s worry at ease. The two of them could finally look toward their future.
But he couldn’t think about that now.
He leaned toward Greys and nodded, feigning interest in whatever his friend was going on about.
“Do you think Chaswick’s sisters will take?” Greys, it would seem, intended to make actual conversation. Chaswick’s sisters? Ah, the one’s who’d grown up in the house on Farm Street. Would their illegitimacy hold them back despite their titled brother and sister-in-law’s acceptance?
“The ton is fickle,” Mantis said. “Some will accept them, but not all.”
“Delightful gels, very pretty really. Violet says they have excellent manners.”
An unusual tone in his friend’s voice had Mantis slanting him a sideways glance. “You’re not taken with one of them, are you?”
