Chapter Eight

Felicity would have loved to have got up and stalked away from Lord Vincent, just like Lord Lanwood had, but of course that wasn't possible.

Gentlemen did, after all, have a great deal more freedom than ladies. And in Felicity's case – all but getting blackmailed by her own mother – she was even less free to make her own choice.

It was clear that her mother was entirely enthralled by Lord Vincent. The man was clear-eyed and bright, not smelling of spilled alcohol as he had last night, not wobbly and slurred. He looked clean and cool, a well-dressed, excessively handsome gentleman. More than that, he seemed interested in Felicity.

Her ribs still stung from her mother's elbow, and Felicity didn't dare glance away or act disinterested. She was forced to smile up at Lord Vincent and listen to his chatter.

"I overheard Lady Lucy mentioning a little walk, after luncheon," Lord Vincent was now saying. "I'm sure I'd enjoy a chance to stretch my legs."

Mrs. Thornhill glanced expectantly at Felicity.

"Well, I'm sure Lucy would be glad to have you come along with us," Felicity said, as there was really not much else she could say.

She wished Lord Lanwood were here. He'd hurried off as soon as he saw Lord Vincent coming, which was entirely understandable. But somehow, if he were here, Felicity thought she might feel a little better. She knew that he disliked Lord Vincent, and that the feeling was mutual. And, on top of that, Lord Lanwood was the host here, the one who all this belonged to. He had authority here that Lord Vincent simply couldn't compete with.

Perhaps if he were here, Mrs. Thornhill would stop pinching and nudging Felicity and making motions with her eyes, signalling for her to be friendlier towards Lord Vincent.

He grinned down at her. It was the same wolfish smile that had made her heart flutter before, but now it only made her feel queasy.

"How excellent. You and I can have a good, long conversation, Miss Thornhill. I look forward to it. Will you be coming along, Mrs. Thornhill? Mr. Thornhill?"

"Not me, I think," Mrs. Thornhill fluttered. "I'm far too old for such nonsense."

"Too old? Surely not, Mrs. Thornhill. At first glance, I was quite sure that you were Miss Thornhill's older sister."

That was a ludicrous piece of flattery, of course, but Mrs. Thornhill giggled like a schoolgirl and even flushed a little.

What a wonderful luncheon this is going to be, Felicity thought wearily.

Then, at last, it was time to actually sit down for their luncheon. Mrs. Langley had set out the places, and Felicity was relieved to see that Lord Vincent was going to be sitting away from her.

I can do it, she thought. I can get through today.

"I thought we could walk around the old rose-gardens," Lucy said, "then through the little wilderness at the back."

"The late earl kept the wilderness neatly pruned," said one of the guests, with more than a hint of disapproval in her voice. "It was all neatly raked gravel and well-trimmed hedges."

Lucy smiled faintly. "I'm sure it looked very pretty, but Lord Lanwood prefers to let nature have its way in the garden."

"But look at all the weeds! So ugly."

"I don't think they're ugly," Felicity spoke up. "Look at all the herbs. And there, there's some wild garlic, how lovely! Who's to say whether a flower is a weed or not, in any case?"

The lady gave her a bewildered stare. "Flowers are flowers, weeds are weeds. Roses are flowers. These odd little purple flowers are weeds."

Felicity decided not to argue too much. She'd left her parents behind on the terrace, sipping the last of their tea and chatting genteelly with Mrs. Langley and some of the others. That meant that Felicity could speak as she liked, but if a bad report got back to her mother, there might be consequences.

Speaking of consequences, here was Lord Vincent.

They walkers clustered together at the entrance to a neat little path of hard-packed earth, just large enough for two people to walk abreast, forming themselves into pairs. Lord Vincent materialized at her side, and offered her his arm, grinning.

"Shall we walk, Miss Thornhill?" he said, in a low voice. "We'd better not fall behind the others. It's shockingly secluded along here."

"Miss Thornhill, I believe you'd agreed to escort me on this walk."

Lord Vincent stiffened, the smile freezing on his face. Almost sagging with relief, Felicity turned to find Lord Lanwood standing behind them, hands folded behind his back, his face impassive.

"I beg your pardon?" Lord Vincent snapped. "I believe I just asked Miss Thornhill to accompany me."

"I'm sure," Lord Lanwood agreed, his expression placid as ever. "But in light of my rather sudden attack of megrim last night, Miss Thornhill kindly offered me her arm along this walk. I'm sure the fresh air and greenery will do me good."

Felicity had not, of course, offered any such thing, but that hardly mattered. She was being offered a way out, and she fully intended to take it.

"Naturally," she said, giddy with relief. "I am sorry, I should have said something."

There was nothing for it but for Lord Vincent to ungraciously step aside. Lord Lanwood offered his arm to Felicity, and she took it gratefully.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. Lord Vincent followed them along the path, stamping bad-temperedly behind, as the path was not wide enough for three.

He'd told Felicity it was scandalously secluded, but that was an exaggeration. Lucy led the way, glancing back to see where Felicity was and relaxing a little at the sight of her on Arthur's arm. They weaved slowly around the old rose-gardens, which were grown prettily wild, and through the forest-like wilderness. The group moved slowly, their aim being to chat and admire the scenery rather than to stretch out their legs in earnest. Bit by bit, Felicity and her escort – and their ungracious hanger-on – overtook pair after pair until they were almost leading the party.

"How is your megrim now, Lord Lanwood?" Felicity asked, after a long pause. "You seem a little brighter now than you did last night."

"My head is fine, thank you," he responded. "In fact, I…"

"Oh, goodness," Lord Vincent snorted. "My dear Arthur, are we to hear the sum of all your health complaints, as if you were an old maid or a doddery matron? Come, spare us."

Felicity shot him a sour glance, which he did not seem to notice. Lord Lanwood's cheeks coloured, just a little.

"What about you, Lord Vincent?" he responded. "How is your head? You must have been befuddled last night, to let your champagne glass slip so easily out of your hand. You would ordinarily never let go of something like that."

The insult was clear, and Felicity bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"Come, gentlemen," she said airily. "Let's not pick at each other like a pair of hens. We should be enjoying our walk, not snapping at each other."

"I'm fairly sick of this endless walk," Lord Vincent muttered. "I'm going back."

"I shouldn't go back if I were you, not if you want to finish walking soon," Lord Lanwood responded.

"Oh, wouldn't you? And why not?"

"Because we've come in a full circle. Another ten minutes, and we'll arrive on the other side of the lawn, in sight of the terrace and a refreshing cup of tea. If you go back the way we came, you'll walk the whole loop again. It'll be a tremendous waste of time."

Lord Vincent snorted. He elbowed rudely past the pair of them.

"Well, well, I'll walk on ahead of you, then. You two walk so slowly I feel as though I'm walking with a pair of old ladies. Do excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, he marched on ahead, stamping as though he were angry at the earth. In a moment, he was out of sight around a bend.

Felicity couldn't hold back her laughter. She chuckled helplessly, leaning heavily against the earl.

"Oh, lord," she gasped. "I think we've offended him."

"Oh, I hope so." Lord Lanwood agreed. She glanced up and was gratified to see a small smile on his face. "I can't say I enjoy Lord Vincent's company much."

"No, me neither. I found him very charming at first, but he seems rather unkind. Still, my mother had made it clear that I am to be lady-like and very proper while I'm here, so I should probably watch my tongue."

She shouldn't have said that. Lord Lanwood glanced down at her, and Felicity could almost feel the heat of his gaze on her cheek. She didn't look at him. It was easier to keep her eyes on the road ahead, and to remind herself that very soon they'd be out of the greenery and back under the unblinking eye of Society.

And her mother.

She was right, of course. In a few moments, the path opened up onto the lawn, with a smooth slope of fresh, green grass leading down to the terrace, where the rest of the party waited.

Lord Vincent was already halfway down the lawn, hunched over, head lowered, marching with a purpose. Felicity couldn't see his face, but she would wager it was as black as thunder.

Mama won't mind my offending him, if I say it was to oblige Lord Lanwood, she thought. Not that Lord Lanwood is the slightest bit interested in me.

He didn't seem angry with her, at least. After the lecture he'd delivered in the library, Felicity had been quite sure that the man disliked her intensely, but perhaps he was just a brusque sort.

She thought she'd almost remember the look of fear and pain on his face when wretched Lord Vincent shattered that glass behind him. His hand had jerked up to his head, almost protectively, and for a half-minute there was a blind look of panic in his eyes, the sort of a look a person might experience if they were entirely focused inward on their own pain and their own personal world.

It was a cruel trick of Lord Vincent's, and she was sure he'd done it deliberately.

Movement on the terrace caught her attention, as they moved in pairs across the lawn.

"Oh," Felicity remarked. "There are some newcomers. They're dreadfully late."

There were a handful of people she did not recognize, and one young woman.

The woman was tall, a little taller than was fashionable, and had curling fair hair done in a modern style. She was remarkably beautiful and wore a pale pink gown trimmed with lace and ruffles. They were now close enough to hear her peal of laughter, a trilling sound that was pleasant to hear but almost certainly well-rehearsed. She was standing with Mrs. Langley, who looked a little bewildered and nervous. That, of course, was not surprising, if latecomers had suddenly arrived, after the luncheon was over.

"I wonder who she is? A friend of Lucy's, I wonder?" Felicity asked aloud and happened her glance up at Lord Lanwood.

She almost faltered when she did so. He'd gone grey, and was staring at the woman with an intent, fixed expression.

"Lord Lanwood?" Felicity ventured. "Are you quite alright? Is it your megrims?"

He swallowed hard, glancing sharply down at her as if he'd just remembered that she was there.

"No, not at all," he managed weakly. A little further down, Lord Vincent descended from the grass lawn onto the terrace, his gaze lingering on the beautiful stranger with a thorough scrutiny though she did not acknowledge his assessment.

The woman happened to look their way, and kept her eyes trained on them as they approached.

Blue eyes, Felicity noticed. Very bright blue, large and round and fringed with golden lashes. The closer they got, the more perfectly the lady appeared. Perhaps her gown was a little too pink and lacy for an al-fresco luncheon, but no matter.

"Do you know her?" Felicity murmured again. Soon they'd be too close for private conversations. Already she was close enough to hear the people on the terrace talking amongst themselves. The quiet and privacy of the walk was behind them, and it was time to pin on their best faces and smoothest manners.

"I… I do know her," Lord Lanwood managed thickly. "Her name is Miss Miranda Sinclair. Although, I haven't seen her for some time, so perhaps she is no longer a miss."

Felicity glanced at him searchingly, but his face gave away nothing. The grey panic of before had gone, and his face was flat and impenetrable.

The woman – Miss Sinclair, it seemed – was still looking at them. She murmured a graceful excuse to Mrs. Langley and moved towards the edge of the terrace, waiting for the walkers to join her.

There was really no way of avoiding her, unless they rudely and obviously circled the whole terrace. Biting back a grimace, Felicity stepped onto the terrace first, and Lord Lanwood after her.

It was hard to explain why the woman left her feeling so unsettled. She was more beautiful than Felicity, certainly, but Felicity had encountered many women who were more beautiful than she was, and it had never bothered her before. Was it the intent and possessive way Miss Sinclair was looking at Lord Lanwood?

No, that could certainly not be true.

"Lord Lanwood," Miss Sinclair fluted. "How good to see you. I am quite uninvited, but dear Mrs. Langley assures me that it is no trouble at all. She is always so kind."

She extended a hand, and Lord Lanwood took it somewhat mechanically.

Bows were exchanged, with Miss Sinclair sinking into a graceful and somewhat theatrical curtsey. Then she turned her attention and her thoughtful blue gaze onto Felicity.

"And now, do tell me," she said, in a crisp and not entirely friendly voice, "who is this?"