“Don’t exhaust her either.” Ignoring Lucille’s protests, he smiled at Felicity. “We dine early, so you won’t be plagued by her for too long.”
“I am very happy to be plagued, I thank you,” she returned, “and if Lucille means to drag me all over this pile of yours, I shall certainly need her help to find my way back to my room.”
Even as Raoul laughed, he regarded her narrowly. Was there a resurgence of her earlier disquiet? Or was he imagining it? Perforce, he turned to the governess. “I suggest you seize the moment, Miss Wimbush, and take a little time to yourself. Miss Temple is competent to chaperon Lucille.”
Felicity was rising. “We will chaperon one another.” She linked her arm through Lucille’s. “Where would you like to take me?”
Raoul left them, beset by an unreasoning surge of feeling as he headed for his library headquarters. Jealousy, was it? Of his sister? Absurd. He was glad to think Felicity and she had made friends so readily. He could use it to strengthen his argument. But the riffle of unaccustomed annoyance did not leave him.
Why could not Felicity feel as much at ease with him? He recalled how she was apt to call him provoking and balked. He had shown her far more attention and generosity than he had to any other woman. By his own choice, it was true. Yet she persisted in an unreasoning resistance. Miss Independence indeed! He liked that in her, but there was a limit. One had no wish for a clinging female, but a trifle of submission to his wishes would not go amiss. Did she even like him?
He recalled instances of laughter, moments of shared intimacy, but had there ever been warmth in her eyes? Of gratitude, yes. A flitter of unaccustomed fury snaked through his veins. He did not want her damned gratitude! He wanted…
The thoughts faded as the realisation of what he truly wanted from Felicity surfaced. His spirits dropped upon the swiftly following thought that he was baying for the moon. But once unleashed, there was no shoving it out of sight. He wanted Felicity’s affection.
Her first panic and dismay had abated somewhat by the time Felicity was at last conducted back to the Blue Room by her vivacious guide. She still found the place inspired a good deal of awe, but Lucille’s light manner was infectious. Having been brought up in the environment, she was naturally at home there, but it was plain she had no inordinate sense of superiority. She greeted every passing servant by name and even addressed the immobile footmen who sprang to life to open doors.
A very little of this insouciance served to make Felicity feel a good deal more comfortable, and only when she met Raoul at dinner did a glimmer of apprehension return. She was glad of Lucille’s presence, along with Miss Wimbush. Felicity took pains to draw the governess out while her charge chattered to her brother, feeling kinship with one whose sole purpose was the fashioning of an educated and well-behaved young lady.
She was relieved that the meal, though well cooked and presented, was not overly sumptuous, and was able to do justice to her portion of chicken pie and a pork olive, though she rejected the artichokes and contented herself with omelette and stewed mushrooms for the second course.
At length Miss Wimbush rose, signalling to Lucille to do the same.
She made a face. “Oh, must we go now? I am having such a good time.”
“You may remain with Miss Temple until I join you,” said Raoul, rising and turning to give Felicity a look she was at a loss to interpret.
A flurry disturbed her pulses as she quickly got up. It was decidedly odd to be ‘leaving with the ladies’ as she knew was customary. The unconventional journey had not included the formality and it had not before been a feature of her existence. It had the immediate effect of making her feel alien again as she glided out of the dining-room behind Miss Wimbush and Lucille. She was tempted to look back, convinced Raoul’s eyes were boring into her back.
The room they retired to was a formal apartment situated off the main gallery, but with Lucille’s hand once more tucked into her arm as they climbed the stairs together, her unease dissipated.
“Do you ride, Miss Temple?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Then tomorrow I’ll drive you in my gig. As long as it doesn’t rain. You will like to see the grounds, I expect. I’ll show you all my favourite haunts, if you like.”
Felicity replied suitably, but her mind was dwelling on the inevitable tête-à-tête with Raoul. If he meant Lucille to go off to bed the moment he appeared, she would be alone with him again. The prospect was unaccountably unnerving.
Fortunately, she had not long to build it into an ordeal. She had barely taken in the opulence of her surroundings with straw-coloured upholstery to the white painted and gilded sofas which matched the yellow stripe on the papered walls, when his tall figure entered the room.
“It is dull work drinking alone,” he said with a singularly charming smile bent upon Felicity.
It had the effect of sending her pulse into a frenzied dance and she was relieved when he turned at once to his sister so that he might not notice the tell-tale warmth she felt in her cheeks.
“Off with you, baggage! I should think poor Miss Temple must be longing for a trifle of peace and quiet.”
“Oh, Raoul, can’t I stay for a little? I promise I will behave. It will be practice for my come-out.” This said in an artless tone of innocent cajolery which had no effect upon her brother.
“You will have ample opportunity to practise next year. Besides, I wish to talk to Miss Temple.”
“Oh! Are you hatching secrets?” Lucille’s eyes sparkled and she clapped her hands. “How exciting!”
Raoul cast up his eyes. “Nothing to interest you. Miss Temple has decisions to make and I am going to help her with them, that is all.”
Oddly, this declaration did nothing to soothe Felicity’s nerves. But it deflected Lucille.
“Oh, how dull! Why must she make decisions?”
