CHAPTER19
FELTON—BACK TO THEFUTURE
October 20, 1814
Two days had passed since Felton stood with the Duchess of Repington, both of them admiring Cecilia’s painting.
Standing in the vestibule of the King’s Theatre in the Haymarket part of London, he wanted to go to Her Grace and confess that his wife was her sister and that he needed that painting almost as much as he needed Cecilia.
It had been ten months since he last saw his wife. Ten months since she was in his arms. Ten months since he’d accused her of the unthinkable and she left him.
His heart hadn’t changed, hadn’t moved an inch. He was desperately in love with his wife. Hope was restored after seeing her new art. He shifted his stance and checked his pocket watch. Lord Liverpool was late.
The man promised help if he’d return to service. Felton was desperate and almost willing to go return to the Department of War and the Colonies.
Yet, he wouldn’t.
Agatha and Amelia loved that he didn’t journey anymore. His smaller household with just Watson and minimal staff proved to be more peaceful.
Tramel seemed more peaceful too. He’d offered again to get Felton’s marriage annulled. Before seeing the painting, the idea had begun to take hold. It was very hard to stay in passionate love with someone when they’d made it obvious that they were done with you.
Then he saw Port Royal.
If he could have one last chance at loving Cilia the right way, he’d stay a monk until he won her back.
Pulling out his watch, he saw the hands had barely moved. Liverpool was never late.
Jeremiah Gladstone came toward him. The fool’s conversation would be abominable. Felton tugged at his collar. He’d endure it waiting for his old employer.
The crowded vestibule would begin to feel hotter. As soon as he talked with Liverpool, he’d beg off this night at the theatre.
The hope that Cecilia was living in Covent Garden, where Lord Ashbrook bought the painting, made his heart beat faster. He’d searched the area twice, once in December when his wife first disappeared, then again in January with Repington.
Forget Liverpool.
This third time was charmed. Out the corner of his eye, Felton saw his heart, his runaway wife.
CHAPTER20
CECILIA—REUNITEDNOTQUITE
The noise of the crowded vestibule of the King’s Theatre normally would make my head hurt. The echo in my skull, of conversations and laughs and greetings, made me dizzy.
Nonetheless, I had something else to obsess upon: the strange sight of my estranged husband standing next to the man I wanted to kill.
Ten months had passed since I last saw Felton, when I stormed away from his Mayfair house.
We now stood in the same place and I wanted to cry.
He’d half turned. His back was to me. He must not have seen me.
I filled my lungs.
When I returned from Demerara, I didn’t think I’d have to hide anymore. I was sure some mission or some woman, or both, would keep our paths from crossing.
Didn’t Felton hate the theatre?
Maybe he just liked dressing for the theatre. Men wore white gloves. They covered the spots on the backs of his hands.
