She heard Angelica gasp, but the pent-up agonies of the past few days had burst forth and would no longer be contained.
“I don’t care what he wrote! I don’t care what you think of me, do you understand? I don’t need you, or anyone! I have looked after myself all these years, and I can do so again. Go! Take his cursed letter and may you choke to death on it!”
But it was she, choking on sobs, who tried to leave. Turning, she made for the door, her legs so unsteady under her she stumbled and went to catch at the nearest object. Through the blurring at her eyes she saw the arm. Tried to evade it, swatting it away.
But it caught her, dragged her back. Then she was prisoner in a hold of iron, her sobs stifled against the roughness of fabric, a faint aroma of maleness in her nostrils, and a soothing voice, rumbling in the chest against which she was held.
“Hush, now… Forgive me… I had to be sure.”
Felicity was beyond thought. She struggled to contain the burden of weeping trying to escape her breast. In a vague way she understood she had been tested and found good. But the accusation rankled, dragging her back to its cause.
With violence she pulled out of his embrace, shifting away. She dragged the back of her hand across her face, heedless of the moistures there, intent on the necessity to speak.
“How dared you do that? You had to be sure? What, that I am not a lying schemer on a par with my guardian? I would have to be fifty kinds of a fool to put myself in a situation fraught with danger. And for what? To catch myself a keeper? I am not a whore, sir!”
“Felicity!”
She spared no glance for her hostess, her glare upon Lord Lynchmere. He appeared unmoved by her words, merely holding out a pocket handkerchief.
“Pray make use of this, Miss Temple. Then we will talk.”
She snatched it from his hand, throwing him a look of loathing. “I have no wish to talk. I want to go home!”
“Who shall blame you?” Angelica was up, coming to put an arm about her. “Raoul, how could you? That was cruel, whatever the provocation of that letter.”
“To be frank, I didn’t intend it. I was furious with Maskery, and became convinced I had been duped.”
Still fuming, Felicity wanted to shake off her hostess’s arm, but she endured as she wiped away the tearstains and blew her nose. Without thinking, she tucked the handkerchief away in her sleeve and confronted his lordship. “Duped by me? I thank you, my lord. I had not realised the extent of my acting abilities.”
He threw up a hand. “Oh, be quiet, woman! I’ve made my regrets.”
“And that makes up for it?”
“It should. Tit for tat, Miss Temple. I have not forgotten your previous attack.” A wry smile came. “It is rather like handling a wild cat. She seems tame enough when you stroke her, but beware her claws and the spitting hiss.”
Despite herself, amusement bubbled up. “I hate you, my lord, I hope you realise that.”
He laughed. “I rather got that impression, yes.”
Felicity became aware of Angelica looking from one to the other, her brows flying. “From one extreme to the other! Really, I don’t know what to make of either of you.”
Felicity sighed and plonked down into the nearest chair. “You had best let me read this ghastly letter, sir.”
He fished it out again. Presumably he had re-pocketed it during the late contretemps. “I’m not sure you ought to read it. I can give you the relevant points.”
“And censor it to suit? I had rather see it for myself, I thank you.”
He held it back. “It does not make for pleasant reading.”
“That, my lord, is patent. Let me see it.”
Angelica had re-seated herself on the sofa. “Give it to her, Raoul. She is entitled to know what that wretched creature has said.”
Nevertheless, when the close-written sheet was put into her hand, Felicity took a moment before she brought it near enough to read. To have prompted the marquis to such fury, it must contain matters too vile for consumption. She glanced up from it to find his lordship’s intent gaze upon her as well as Angelica’s anxious one. Lord Lynchmere’s cheek bore still the imprint of the blow she had dealt him and Felicity’s conscience awoke.
“I should not have behaved in so unladylike a fashion, my lord.”
His shoulders shifted as if in dismissal and he jerked his head towards the letter. “Would you wish me to read it to you after all?”
