Chapter Ten

Felicity watched Lord Lanwood disappear into the house with his mother. They were gone for a while, ten or fifteen minutes at least, then Mrs. Langley returned, pale and a little miserable. She caught Felicity's eye and forced a smile.

"Arthur has something of a headache," she said, before Felicity could say a word. "He hopes to join us for the musical evening, though."

Miss Sinclair, who'd been lingering nearby, clearly overheard, giving a dissatisfied little moue. She made her apologies shortly after and took her leave.

"I don't like that woman," Daniel murmured, quiet enough so that only Felicity could hear. "Aside from being the most manipulative little flirt I've ever seen; she's got a reputation for being exceptionally cruel to any women she sees as a rival." I hate to see that."

"Who are we speaking of?" Lord Vincent burst in, rudely joining the conversation. "Ah, the redoubtable Miss Miranda Sinclair."

Felicity flushed, looking away. Daniel stiffened.

"I don't know the woman well, myself," he muttered.

Lord Vincent chuckled, swigging back a cup of tea as if it were whiskey.

"Pretty thing, ain't she?"

Daniel glared at him. "I'm not sure that's appropriate conversation for here and now, Lord Vincent."

"Ah, I'm sure Miss Thornhill isn't as delicate as you make out. I must say, I was surprised to see Miss Sinclair here, especially after all that went between them."

He let the sentence trail away meaningfully, clearly intending for somebody to ask him further questions. Even though it was exactly what he wanted, Felicity couldn't help but ask.

"What do you mean?"

He grinned wolfishly. "Aha, you don't know. It was quite a piece of gossip in the day. Miss Sinclair and Lord Lanwood – although of course he was only Mr. Langley, then – were engaged to be married. Truly in love with each other, they were. It was the love-match of the Season, everyone said. She was pretty and charming, and he was handsome and witty. Neither particularly rich, which is always a pity – would be a deal-breaker for me, I can tell you – but a good enough couple."

A fizzing sensation ran down Felicity's spine. It all made perfect sense, and she felt like an absolute fool for not having seen it before. Of course they would be in love with each other. They were both so brilliant, so confident – well, Miss Sinclair was self-assured and confident, although it was clear Lord Lanwood's confidence had taken a nasty knock – and both so good-looking. No wonder Society thought they were a perfect couple.

How ridiculous that she hadn't seen it before.

"If I were a betting man," Lord Vincent said meditatively, "I would say that Miss Sinclair regrets throwing away our dear friend the Earl. After all, he is Lord Lanwood now, with all that that entails. His scars are quite unsightly still, but not as bad as they once were."

Felicity flinched at that. "I think the earl is a remarkably handsome man."

She immediately wished that she hadn't said that. Lord Vincent and Daniel both threw her curious, speculative looks. She flushed and pretended ineffectually not to have noticed.

"I must go, but I'll be returning later this evening for Mrs. Langley's musical event," Lord Vincent said suddenly. "She tells me that you are opening the evening with pianoforte playing. I must say, I look forward to that performance."

Felicity flushed. The three of them exchanged bows, and she was obliged to give him her hand. He bowed low over it, shooting a quick, knowing look up at her. He spared a brusque nod and glance at Daniel, then strode away, heading towards his hostess, doubtless to bid his goodbyes.

"I do not like that man," Daniel announced shortly.

Felicity winced. "The feeling is mutual."

***

"Must I go down tonight?" Felicity pleaded, while her maid laced up her dress tighter and tighter.

Mrs. Thornhill snorted. "Of course you must. Why ever would you want to stay up here?"

"Miss Sinclair is coming," Felicity muttered. "I don't much like her. She was rather rude to me earlier today."

Mrs. Thornhill sniffed disdainfully. "I think a little rivalry will do you good. It'll stop you becoming too complacent, and you can see how the gentlemen treat a pretty, amiable young lady who doesn't bore off their ears with tales of plants and flowers. Miss Sinclair is a pretty, pleasant young lady, and you'll find yourself obliged to work harder. It will do you no harm."

"She doesn't like me, Mama."

"So what? You don't have to like each other. Frankly, I believe that excessive female friendships only serve to distract a young lady, when she ought to be concentrating on finding herself a husband and an establishment."

Felicity opened her mouth to argue, but soon thought better of it. There was really no point. Mrs. Thornhill didn't much like being contradicted, and Felicity's books and studies still hung in the balance. She eyed her own reflection instead, watching her waist narrow unnaturally.

"Mother, I fear that my voice will suffer if my dress is fastened so tightly. I may sound shrill and squeaky, like an inflated ball punctured with a pin. You don't want that, do you?"

Mrs. Thornhill gave an angry, long-suffering sigh, and gestured to the maid to loosen the dress. Felicity let out a relieved breath, glad to be drawing in air freely once again. Aside from the too-tight lacing, this was one of Felicity's favourite gowns. It was velvet blue, simply cut and fashionable, with longer sleeves than other ladies preferred, trimmed with lace at the wrists and neckline. The colour suited her, she thought.

"Lord Vincent has been paying special attention to you," Mrs. Thornhill commented, after a pause. "You could do worse than him, you know."

"I have no interest in Lord Vincent," Felicity said without thinking. Realising her mistake, she met her mother's eye through the mirror.

"Recollect our bargain, Felicity," Mrs. Thornhill said, her voice calm and dangerous. "If I believe you are not taking your search for a husband seriously, I will have to act accordingly."

A cold tingle of fear ran down Felicity's spine. She imagined her life stretching out before her, without books or study of any kind, aging steadily, scorned by Society, and facing the incessant, daily reproach of her parents.

They would never forgive me.

"Of course I am taking it seriously, Mama," Felicity said, as lightly as she could. "I'm going first in the musical evening tonight. I've been practising for hours."

Mrs. Thornhill leaned back in her seat.

"Good," she said simply. "See that you are, that's all."

Half an hour later, her dress comfortable and looser around her, Felicity summoned her courage and went downstairs.

The library had been fitted out with seats, all arranged around the pianoforte in a semi-circle. Most of the seats were occupied already. Not wanting to take one only to vacate it a moment or two later, Felicity clutched her music to her chest and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

She spotted Lord Vincent – of course – lounging in a seat. He shot her a wide smile, and if there had been a seat next to him, no doubt he would have summoned her over.

Miss Sinclair sat beside him, straight-backed, beautiful, and shockingly graceful. She kept looking from side to side, and no prizes as to who she was looking for.

"I see you're hiding away too, Miss Thornhill," said a familiar voice in her ear. A tingle ran down Felicity's spine.

"Good evening, Lord Lanwood," she said, keeping her voice low in case sharp-eared Miss Sinclair heard. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much, thank you."

She twisted around to look up at him, and he smiled weakly down at her. Lord Lanwood wore an emerald-coloured suit, velvet, like her dress, and it suited him. His scars – who thought they were ugly? – ran down the side of his face, a raised pink colour. Frankly, Felicity thought they made him look dashing.

Not that she'd say such a thing, naturally. People might draw conclusions.

A clapping caught their attention, and the guests immediately stopped talking and settled into their seats, facing eagerly forward. Mrs. Langley stood on the little platform, in front of the pianoforte. She was beaming.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I do so hope you'll enjoy this musical evening. There are drinks, naturally, and there will be refreshments afterwards. To start our evening, Miss Felicity Thornhill will delight us with our first piece of the evening."

Nerves flared in Felicity's stomach. She drew in a breath, glancing up at Lord Lanwood. "Wish me luck," she murmured.

He grinned wryly. "I heard you practising. I don't believe you need luck."

She went pink at that and hurried on up to the platform.

The song Felicity had chosen was a simple, popular air, easy to perform, well-liked by everyone, and a nice, light choice to start off the evening. She concluded her piece to happy applause and left the platform feeling relieved and happy about her own performance. She met her parents' eyes as he moved towards the back of the room and was graced with an approving smile and nod.

Phew. So far, so good.

Lord Lanwood was standing where he had been before, at the back of the room, and Felicity moved to stand beside him.

"Well done," he said, voice low. "You're very talented."

"I wish. I only learned pianoforte because my Mama made me."

He gave a muffled snort of laughter.

That was a mistake. Miss Sinclair whipped around, spotting Lord Lanwood for what seemed like the first time. She frowned, full lips pressing together in a thin line. In a flash, she was on her feet. For one awful moment, Felicity was entirely sure that the woman was going to come pounding down the aisle and fling herself at her, nails ready to scratch and fingers ready to twist and pull her hair.

Instead, Miss Sinclair simpered all around, and went striding up to the platform.

Mrs. Langley, who was already preparing to announce the next performer, blinked at Miss Sinclair. "What…?" she began, but Miss Sinclair was already taking her position at the pianoforte, her intentions manifestly clear. Poor Mrs. Langley smiled bashfully at the audience, and took her seat again.

After all, there wasn't much else to do, besides bodily dragging Miss Sinclair off the piano stool.

Not a bad idea, Felicity thought wryly.

Smiling coyly around, Miss Sinclair laid graceful fingers on the keys and began to play.

Felicity didn't recognize the piece Miss Sinclair played, but it was fast, intricate, beautiful, and, of course, expertly played. The woman's fingers danced over the keys like lightning. At the climax of the piece, she began to sing, revealing a voice that could quite nicely be described as angelic.

The audience was rapt, listening on the edges of their seats, eyes wide. Felicity's own effort immediately seemed silly, trite, and eminently childish. Rather like a small child proudly presenting a finger-painting and insisting that it should be displayed next to some famous artist's watercolour.

The piece ended with a great flourish, and the audience broke into rapturous applause, some people even rising to their feet. Felicity clapped too, so as not to seem bitter.

She did it deliberately, she thought, shaken. Miss Sinclair simpered and smiled modestly at the pianoforte, acting almost bashful. She rose and slipped back down to her seat, smiling around demurely, shaking her head at the murmured words of praise. Her gaze shot down the length of the room, finding Lord Lanwood at once.

Felicity glanced nervously up at him. Lord Lanwood was looking at her, face inscrutable. He must be moved by her playing. Who wouldn't be transfixed by that? No doubt he regretted calling Felicity's poor playing a talent now that he'd heard Miss Sinclair.

Miss Sinclair must have liked whatever she saw in Lord Lanwood's face, because she gave a brief, triumphant smile. Her gaze flickered to Felicity, and Felicity had to look away first.

I won, the look seemed to say. See how he's staring at me? See how everybody admires me? I have true beauty, talent, and grace. You can't measure up, you silly girl.

Mrs. Thornhill was watching Miss Sinclair too, with an expression of annoyance.

Do you still think a little rivalry is a good thing, Mama? Felicity wanted to shout. One thing, however, was very clear.

Miranda Sinclair harboured ill feelings for Felicity.