And was that enough? He certainly didn’t want it to be. There were so many eligible men who were far more protective, but having thought about that as well over the last weeks, he found they also came up short. “I have to believe he will make her happy, as he was her choice.” That is what he’d told himself, but as he voiced that very idea, it felt shallow.
Mr. Taylour shook his head. “That is your concern. I am simply here to help how I can. Now that I know what you want, I will not only look into Leighhall’s activities in more detail, but I will also be sure to alert you if he moves in the direction of Silver Meadows. I’m very familiar with the area, as I stay with Lord Blackmore, a neighbor, when not on an assignment.”
Having heard that the two had served together in the war, Felton was not surprised by that fact. “I greatly appreciate your aid in this matter. If there is anything I need to do in order for you to access places or items as you dig into Leighhall’s activities, do not hesitate to contact me. I want any possible weakness recorded.”
Mr. Taylour’s brows rose. “Do you suspect something beyond his sexual activities?”
“I do. I’m not sure exactly why, but I’m convinced there is something beyond his supposed prowess with women. I would like to know what it is to use it as leverage, if you will.”
“Those very activities could well be a distraction from what he’s actually into.” The man grinned. “There is nothing I like better than a puzzle to figure out.” Mr. Taylour straightened and gave a nod. “I shall be sure to report to you as soon as I discover his secrets.”
“Thank you.” Felton strode forward, opened the door, and called his butler. “My first priority is Lady Dorothea’s safety. My second is that no one know what you are about.”
“I understand.” Mr. Taylour gave a solemn nod then followed the butler out.
He wandered to the sideboard and poured a short glass of whisky, his mind filled with the conversation. Surprisingly, he felt more confident in Mr. Taylour’s abilities after meeting him. No doubt it was because the man’s mind worked much like his own, even if he didn’t resemble the two Bow Street Runners he’d met. That Mr. Taylour had also concluded Dory could be more easily protected if Felton were to marry her showed how quickly the man had sized up the entire situation.
Returning to the desk with his drink, Felton pulled out his desk chair and sat. He took a sip before opening the top drawer and withdrawing a miniature.
He set the oval frame on its stand upon his desk and sat back. “We haven’t spoken in a while, Belinda. But I know that you are aware I never stop thinking of you.” He stared at the little portrait, wishing as always that she would actually speak, but well aware that would never occur. The portrait had been one of many Lady Amelia, now Lady Sommerset, had painted and discarded as not good enough. Belinda had her signature poignant smile, her head slightly cocked, but a strand of hair had come loose and fallen across her eyebrow.
He’d never forget the afternoon Belinda had shyly handed it to him, explaining it wasn’t the best, but it was the one she liked most because it wasn’t perfect. She liked that it showed her hair having a mind of its own, as often happened. She said the picture captured the living, breathing Belinda, and not the perfect one whom her sister had sought to paint. But in his eyes, Belinda had been perfect. Or rather, she’d been perfect for him.
“I imagine you have been perplexed by my actions over the last month or so. To be honest, so have I.” He waited, always having that hope that he would hear her in his mind, giving him the counsel he needed.
“My father thinks I keep looking for the perfect woman. I’m not. I already have you, and I know no one can be you. I don’t want them to be you.” He paused, not sure what he wanted to say, but talking to her always helped him find solace, if not solutions.
“As you know, I’m determined to protect Lady Dorothea. She’s interesting. Like you, she is unique, but in a far different manner, and she is far from perfect. I know if you met her, you would be very kind to her, but probably puzzled by her. I befriended her to help her be successful with finding a husband, and she has. But I am not happy with my success. I thought by helping her, I could make the school named for you as revered as you are. But I fear my priorities have become entangled, as she might say.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk even as Belinda’s soft, blue gaze never wavered. “I still want the school to be a success. You deserve to have your name on everyone’s lips. Lady Dorothea took my advice, changed how she conversed, and is now betrothed.” According to Dory, he should be happy because he’d succeeded, yet he felt unsettled.
“But I actually prefer her as she was. I should be pleased she managed to change, but I wish she hadn’t. Why? That’s the question. Maybe I don’t want her to be successful because I like that I’m the only one to understand her and appreciate her for who she is, flaws and all. That’s what you always told me. You said to love others for their flaws, not despite them. I don’t think I ever understood that until now.”
He stopped tapping the desk as his heart started to pound in his chest. “Am I in love with her?”
Even as he said the words to the empty room, a shiver raced over him. He shot to his feet. He couldn’t be. He looked at the portrait, the gaze now focused on his groin. Quickly, he lifted the image. “This can’t be. I love you.” He shook his head, then set the portrait down and quickly strode around the desk to the window again. He stared unseeing. How could he be in love with Dory? She was an experiment to help the school. His heart was dead.
Or was it?
He thought back to their first encounter, to their first kiss, to when she’d told his fortune, sensuously running her finger over his bare palm. Then the night he’d given her pleasure. As much as he’d wanted to bury himself inside her, he couldn’t defile her because…because he loved her.
He spun around, his gaze going to the stack of books on his desk. He strode to them and opened the top one. Even in his frustration, he’d been reading the philosophers Dory had mentioned, unconsciously prepping for their next conversation despite the fact that he hadn’t planned to have another with her…ever.
Rifling through the pages of Immanuel Kant’s writings, he found what he sought. “‘Love is a matter of feeling, not of willing…so a duty to love is an absurdity.’”
It was not a matter of will.
An odd relief filled him at the thought that loving was not of his choosing. Of course, he hadn’t chosen to love Belinda, he simply did.
And he hadn’t chosen to love Dory. “But I do.” His spirits lifted as if a shroud had been pulled from over his heart and allowed it to beat freely. “I love her.”
His gaze returned to the portrait. Did Belinda know? Did she approve? Even as he asked the question in his mind, he heard her voice in his head.Yes.
He closed the book as new possibilities stretched before him. If he loved her, she could be his wife. He lifted the portrait. “Thank you.” Reverently, he returned it to the drawer.
For the first time in over ten years, he could see beyond his past to a future. He would make it perfect. No, not perfect. According to Dory, perfect was boring. According to Belinda, perfect was not a human possibility. According to his father, perfect was loneliness. No, his life would be perfectly unique with Dory by his side.
Would she accept him? His enthusiasm dimmed. She was betrothed, but she could break the betrothal. She was also angry with him. Could he convince her he regretted his actions? After all, he was her Fen. It would be no easy task. He’d hurt her.
