Felicity sat up and hastily removed herself from the bed. Miss Wilhelmina rose and stretched, then yawned. She glanced down at her gown to find it hopelessly wrinkled from the time she had spent sulking beneath the bedclothes.
Drat.
She was going to have to see all the Winter ladies looking as if she had been hiding in her chamber after being ruined the night before. Which was exactly what had happened.
She cast a quick glance at herself in the cheval, smoothed her skirts and hair as best she could, and then opened the door. The faces of seven Winter ladies stared back at her.
Lady Emilia was at the forefront, smiling in that kind, genuine way of hers. “Lady Felicity, may we come in?”
“Of course.” What choice did she have?
More importantly, what did her unexpected guests want?
One by one, they entered, Genevieve last, clad in breeches and coat. Felicity closed the door at their backs, then turned to face them all. For a moment, she feared she had been discovered, that someone had seen her and Blade sneaking through the halls in the early hours of the morning.
Her heart thumped with dread.
“Likely you are wondering at the somewhat unprecedented presence of us all in your chamber, Lady Felicity,” Lady Emilia said.
Felicity blinked. “If you are here to convince me to play more games, I fear I am not feeling spirited enough.”
“Games are all excellent fun,” Lady Prudence agreed sagely. “However, that is not the reason we are here.”
“Not all games are excellent fun,” Genevieve grumbled. “Nothing compares to a knife-throwing competition.”
Felicity gave Blade’s half sister a weak smile, recalling all too well the results, albeit unintended, of the knife-throwing competition she had inadvertently stumbled upon. “Indeed.”
“Never mind knife throwing,” Lady Aylesford said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We came to talk to you about your sisters.”
“Esme and Cassandra? What of them?”
“We understand your sisters are in need of some matchmaking expertise,” Mrs. Hart added.
“And no one is better at matchmaking than Emilia,” Lady Hertford said.
“We are all proof,” the Duchess of Coventry offered with a bright smile. “Well, except Bea. But she was always in love with Mr. Hart, and their marriage was quite inevitable. The rest of us found our husbands at last year’s country house party.”
“I am not alone responsible for the matches, of course,” Emilia told her. “My sisters-in-law are all lovely and kind, and they stole their husbands’ hearts with ease. However, I propose my sponsorship for both your sisters when they make their debuts. I would be more than happy to take them under my wing and see them happily settled.”
“It would be one less worry for you,” Genevieve pointed out. “Two, actually.”
“That is kind of you.” The offer was indeed generous. “However, I am afraid seeing my sisters wed is not the main problem facing me. My father has… His gambling debts are tremendous. I must make a good match myself to give Esme and Cassandra the seasons they deserve.”
“I would not just facilitate matchmaking for your sisters,” Emilia told her gently. “I would for you as well, if you will allow it.”
The thought of making a match with anyone made her ill. “Thank you, Lady Emilia, but I am afraid I haven’t the luxury of time. I must find a husband before Christmas and wed him as soon as possible.”
“There are many eligible gentlemen in attendance,” Lady Prudence said.
“Dozens,” Mrs. Hart agreed.
“Have you anyone in mind?” the Duchess of Coventry asked.
Blade’s face came to mind, and her foolish, weak heart would not cease its futile yearning for him. That was hopeless, and she knew it.
“Have you, Lady Felicity?” prodded Lady Aylesford.
For a moment, she imagined unburdening herself completely to the group of women assembled before her. But she did not dare entrust her secret. If anyone discovered she had been in Blade’s chamber last night, in his bed, she would be disastrously ruined. A lifetime as a companion or a governess awaited her.
