“Areyou quite sure about this?” Felicity asked, pausing yet again on the steps of the red brick townhouse on Grosvenor Square.
It wasn’t a big house, but it was impressive, with stone pediments and four bays of sparkling windows. And it was on Grosvenor Square.
Laying a hand against her back to urge her forward, Flint chuckled. “Of course, I am. You might not want to meet her, but she wants to meet you.”
“I didn’t say that exactly...”
It had been only two weeks, during which her life had been completely upended. She was no longer a teacher, but a fiancée, a nascent Society lady with a burgeoning wardrobe, a new family she was still trying to acclimate to and a fiancé who seemed to fit her like a glove.
And now, she had a grandmother.
Drawing a deep, unsteady breath, she let Flint guide her through the black wrought-iron gate and onto the front stoop to be greeted by an open door and an absolutely precise butler, who bowed the perfect depth and greeted them with a sonorous voice.
“My lord, welcome,” he intoned. “Miss Masterson.”
Something else to get used to. A new name to go with her new wardrobe and fiancé. She had balked at first when her Uncle Robert, Uncle Andy’s brother, had proposed officially adopting her. Shelikedher own name. She had wanted to keep it as something that was still completely her own. But the marquess had seemed so sincere, so heartfelt in his offer—and his wife so gentle—that she found she couldn’t say no. So here she stood, officially known as Felicity Chambers Masterson, and she was still trying to make it fit.
Although as Flint had reminded her, she wouldn’t really have to since in another three weeks she would be a Bracken.
“Miss Masterson,” Flint said with a grin, “this is Parsons. Parsons, Miss Masterson.”
“A pleasure, Miss.”
Felicity couldn’t tell if it really was, as was the way with all butlers, but she took him at his word. “I as well, Parsons.”
“Your grandmother is waiting in the Great Salon,” he said and turned to lead the way.
The news did not help Felicity’s nerves. So, it wasn’t to be a visit as much as an audience. Great salons tended to be the size of ballrooms and decorated to intimidate.
She could have told them all that they didn’t need to go to extra lengths. She was already intimidated. There were cherubs on the arched ceilings of the entryway and Ming vases in the niches along the walls, a Rubens above the staircase and a Canaletto view of Venice along the hallway.
“I’d love to go there,” she sighed, seeing it.
“On our wedding trip?” Flint asked.
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She shook her head. “One thing at a time. This thing is my grandmother.”
“Lord Flint Bracken,” the butler intoned. “And Miss Masterson.”
For the brief, breathless moment before she stepped across that threshold, Felicity held onto her all the uncertainties, the losses and yearnings and betrayals she had built up over the years, the family she had imagined and the one she had been given. And then, because she knew that, no matter what, he would be both of those things, she took tight hold of Flint’s hand.
“Ready?” he whispered.
She nodded. “Ready.”
And stepped into the room to be hugged by a weeping, white-haired woman who kept repeating her name as if it were a benediction. And behind her a room of people behind her who smiled in greeting.
Later Felicity would remember those moments as the greatest revelation of her life. Because in meeting the family she’d never thought to have, she made an even greater discovery. Even without them, with Flint she would have had family enough.
But it certainly was nice to have the rest.
