And given half a chance, he would whisk her into the shadows of the garden later on.
But first, he’d need to make his bow to damn near every breathing resident in all of Mayfair.
Nearly an hour later, Felicity grasped his arm, leaning into him. “I don’t remember having to curtsy this much at my come-out.”
Mantis wound an arm around her, remembering how pale she’d looked when she first arrived in London. She had wanted a proper wedding, but he hadn’t considered how it might affect her health.
Louisa sent him a warning look—because, of course, holding his future wife in public like this wasn’t at all proper.
Propriety be damned. “Do you need to sit down?”
“No. No. I’m fine,” Felicity assured him. But he kept his hand at her back.
“Just a little longer.” He glanced toward the door, grateful to see the end in sight. Any latecomers could say hello to him some other time, and if they didn’t like that, they could go to the devil. An appreciation for promptness was one of the rare things he had in common with his father.
With most guests already in the ballroom, Mantis endured the pomp and circumstance of being announced and promptly found a place for Felicity to sit.
“You do look pale, Felicity.” Louisa hovered nearby. “I’ll fetch you a lemonade.”
“I’m fine, really.”
He knew that those present would want to mingle with the guests of honor, but for a few moments, he wanted Felicity to himself.
Mantis lowered himself beside her. Turning his back to their guests, he effectively blocked anyone who might take it upon themselves to approach.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Some meat and fruit before we came.” She squeezed his hands. “Really, I am fine. But… thank you.”
He grimaced. “Are you sure? I’ve not much experience with this sort of thing, but I do know that a single evening isn’t worth compromising your condition. Did you approve of the midwife?”
“I did. And I have an appointment scheduled for next week. Now,” Felicity tilted her head. “I’m fine. I promise to tell you the second I feel otherwise. Trust me?”
The same request he had made of her.
“Yes.”
Her gaze flicked to his eye, and she reached up to dab at the corner. “Does it hurt?”
“Only if you poke your finger in it,” he grinned and she rolled her eyes at him.
Would he ever not worry about her?
Felicity glanced around the room and then lowered her voice. “I’m glad it wasn’t your father. I only wish we knew who…”
Mantis placed his finger over her lips. “We aren’t talking about this tonight, remember?”
“I forgot.”
“I forgive you.”
She laughed. “I’m glad to have such an excellent partner to lead me. I had no idea our mothers would invite so many people.”
He’d not once seen Lady Felicity Brightley nervous in any social situation. “It won’t be the same as it was at Vauxhall,” he sighed.
And at the mention of the pleasure gardens, her eyes darkened.
“I don’t supposeit will be.” Tingling awareness flowed from Felicity’s fingertips to her core. “But, perhaps we could walk in the garden after.”
