Then without a by-your-leave, he stalked up and simply swung her off Charlie as if she were an inconvenient parcel, leaving the horses to an approaching groom. Felicity pulled away from his hands, preferring not to face the Siren while her skin shot sparks, and brushed down her skirts, as if she had just been handed down from a coach.
“How do you do, Mrs. Dent-Hardy?” she asked, hoping her smile was less strained than she felt as she dipped a curtsy. “I apologize for our precipitate arrival...”
The beautiful woman waved aside the apology and held out a hand. “Don't tell me. Flint forgot to tell you where you were bound and why.”
Having no other choice, Felicity took hold of her skirts and climbed the steps toward her. “A chronic condition, I assume?”
The siren laughed. “Back to infancy. Come. Meet my remaining guests. Are you coming, Bracken, or do you prefer to scowl on my front parterre all day?”
“I'd prefer to speak to Brent.”
“Well, you'll have to ride to York. He was headed for the family seat.”
Finally, Flint unstuck himself and followed Felicity up the stairs.
She shouldn't have cared. But every time he drew near, her skin hummed, and that was awfully distracting. Especially for a woman who had been offered a devil's bargain, of which he was a part.
The visit was unexceptionable, a perfectly charming hour sharing dishes of tea with three very elegant creatures who seemed to go out of their way not to mention the possible engagement or the fact that Felicity had ridden over in not just a day dress, but one that looked as if she'd found it in the dust bin.
Felicity felt she comported herself well in their company. She had, after all, spent her formative years practicing just such socialization with women quite as elegant and proper. She sipped her tea, nibbled a fairy cake, and proclaimed her delight in the stories of Burns, the music of Scarlatti and the comedy of Sheridan. She mused over the weather and nodded vaguely at the mention of people she didn't know, and even the ones she did. She even made note of the fact that several of the names batted around at tea were the same that had been exchanged over dinner with Aunt Winnie. It seemed that the old woman didn’t only have visitors and correspondents of her own age, but across the generations. Considering how irascible the old spinster was, Felicity was amazed at the proof that she could claim such a diverse friendship.
“Blackmail,” one of the ladies insisted. A mature redhead squeezed into a younger woman’s dress, she nodded sagely. “She knows everything about everyone. I wouldn’t put it past her to use the information to her benefit.”
Mrs. Dent-Hardy let loose her throaty laugh. “Nonsense. There is no benefit. She hasn’t been seen in London in three decades. I like her.”
“I do, too,” Felicity said.
If she hadn't been so on edge, she might have actually enjoyed herself. But Flint was sitting right next to her, and Bucky Brent was hovering in the background. What had he wanted? Why after four months would anyone come looking for her? And how did he know where she was? It was a little late to apologize for not stepping in soon enough back at Lassiter Hall. And she was certain he had nourished no fatal attraction for her. If fatal attraction there had been, she would have expected his to be for Eddie.
So then, why?
“You must come see me without this grumpus,” she heard.
Blinking, she yanked herself back from unproductive thoughts. “Of course,” she told Mrs. Dent-Hardy, although the likelihood of her riding over for a coze was faint at best. Still, she smiled and followed Flint as he rose to his feet. “Thank you so much for the hospitality.”
And with a general round of bobs and curtsies, she and Flint were on their way.
They were halfway home when she finally gave in to temptation and turned to Flint. “Why are you so interested in Bucky Brent?”
He turned to her, his countenance fierce. “Why did he track you down?”
Felicity blinked, nonplussed. “I have no idea. I haven't even seen him for four months. Why is it important? I know you cannot be jealous. Especially of him.”
“Of course not. It would be ridiculous.”
Should she tell him he'd just insulted her?
“If you want to know,” he said, bringing his horse to a halt in the middle of a pasture, “I don't like coincidences. His being here...”
Felicity was bringing Charlie to a halt alongside when she felt a plucking at her sleeve. Almost simultaneously there was acrackfrom behind her, and Flint jerked back.
“Go!” he yelled, pulling his horse around, its hooves leaving the ground.
“Go? Why?” Which was when she saw the blood. “My God!”
“Get going before he reloads!” he yelled. “Get Billy!”
And then he unceremoniously smacked Charlie on the rear, sending them into flight.
