Chapter Twenty-One

F elton raced up the grand drive of Silver Meadows, barely waiting for his horse to come to a stop before jumping off. Handing the reins of Nyx to the boy who’d run up, he took the ridiculously wide stairs two at a time. The door opened just before he reached the top. “I’m here to see my sister, Lady Rose Ambrose.”

The butler showed him to a parlor, and Felton immediately went to the front window to be sure his horse behaved. He’d had plenty of time to plan his strategy on the long ride from Denton Hall. He’d been halfway to Shefford to ask Lord Preston’s permission to marry Dory instead of Dearling when Mr. Taylour had met him on the road and told him what Leighhall had done. Even as he remembered the conversation, his hands curled into fists, his anger as much at Leighhall as himself for not anticipating the man’s cunning. Turning about on the road, he’d returned home before heading to Silver Meadows. He would marry Dory with or without her father’s permission, if she’d have him.

That gave him pause and had his heart skipping in his chest. Her wedding was on the morrow, so he only had today to convince her he was the best choice. And if she didn’t agree?

He wasn’t sure he could survive losing another woman he loved, especially because this time he wouldn’t be able to rail at fate. It would be purely his own fault.

With his horse having been walked out of view, he turned toward the room, only to have his breath taken away by a full-length painting of Belinda. She stood beneath a tree, one hand resting on the trunk as she looked out into the room. At her feet were three books, one open with a rabbit sitting on it as it stared adoringly up at her. She wore a pale-pink dress but no bonnet. Her dark-brown hair flowed down her back and about one shoulder, tied back by a matching ribbon.

He breathed in as he noticed a few strands of hair had come loose of the ribbon and fell about her eyebrow. This was the real Belinda. He walked closer, unable to resist staring into her lifelike gaze. It was as if the artist captured her very soul. Glancing at the signature at the bottom, the painting made sense. Belinda’s own sister had painted it, and with the wisdom of years, Lady Sommerset had captured Belinda as she truly had been.

He moved his gaze up again to the books, the image triggering a memory. Yes, she had been forever leaving books about, much to her sister Joanna’s consternation. Belinda had also allowed many an animal into the house, which had caused one of her maids to quit. As he studied the painting further, he noticed dirt on the hand that lay against the tree. He’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed working in the soil with her wildflowers, the Mabry gardener allowing her a space, despite the fact he had to consistently weed out those same flowers from the formal garden.

How had he forgotten such endearing quirks? Had his loss created a saint from the woman he’d loved, erasing all her humanity, which was what had called to him from the start?

“It’s a wonderful painting, isn’t it?” Rose’s voice had him turning to face her.

“It is. It captures who she truly was.”

Rose sat on a chair, still looking at the painting behind him. “I was so young, I don’t remember her like this. Instead, I remember feelings like warm, kind, caring, and comforting.” She moved her gaze to his and smiled.

He forced himself to sit on the settee opposite her, not sure he could focus on their conversation if he could see Belinda. He was here for another warm, kind, caring, and comforting woman. One it had taken him too damn long to realize he loved. “I’ve come to talk to Dory, but I wished to hear from you if she has heard about her mother.”

“Is the word truly making it to every village?”

He grimaced, knowing how harsh the repercussions could be, but determined to stifle them as soon as possible. “Yes. Does she know?”

His sister narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you wish to talk to ‘Dory’ about? When did you start using her nickname? I do hope it is only between us.”

He ignored her second question. “Yes. No.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, not comfortable explaining his true reason for the visit. It would involve admitting he’d been oblivious of his own feelings.

Rose’s eyes suddenly rounded. “It’s you!”

He jerked back. “What do you mean?”

Rose cleared her throat. “Nothing. I was just telling Dory that people had different habits when they were uncomfortable. I simply couldn’t remember who it was who…tapped their fingers.” She waved off her comment. “You do not need to be uncomfortable about talking to Dory about her mother. She’s always expected it.”

That was true, but she always worried about it. Unless Dearling had already come and reassured her of his intentions. He had to know. “Has Lord Dearling visited her?”

“As a matter of fact, he was just here yesterday. Dory was very much relieved after his visit. So unless you had something else you need to discuss with her—”

“I do.”

Rose eyed him shrewdly. “Will she want to talk to you?”

Again, he tapped his fingers, his concern growing. “I would like to. If she will see me. She was not pleased with me at Mother’s final ball.” His sudden unsureness felt awkward on his shoulders. Did Rose know what he’d done? She seemed very protective of Dory.

“No, I have heard she wasn’t.” His sister studied him a moment before she rose. “I suggest we see what she says. Mademoiselle Lissette and Dory are practicing how to throw a knife.”

“What?”

Rose’s eyes sparkled. “It’s part of our lessons. Lady Northwick has us all learn some self-defense techniques. From what I understand, the duchess was in need of them once when with the duke and Lord Mabry. Come, they’re in the back.”

He stood and followed his sister from the room, glancing one last time at Belinda.

Rose brought him down a corridor that ended in a large arch into what could only have once been a ballroom, but now was filled with bookcases upon bookcases of books, not just along the walls, but dividing the space into rooms. Two young women noticed them and followed. They looked to be Lady Georgina and Lady Eleanor, if he wasn’t mistaken.

He lengthened his stride to walk next to his sister. “Where are the duke and duchess?”

“Oh, they are about. I believe the duke is instructing the gardener on where to place birdhouses. The duchess said she needed to finish a book so she could meet with Sophie to discuss it this afternoon. Later, I will have a class on philosophy with Dory and tomorrow is my first science class with the duke.” Rose halted as they stepped out onto the terrace. “Brother, I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to be here.”

His sister’s smile was as bright as the sun. He also noticed her skin had darkened from being out in said sun and there was a liveliness in her step he hadn’t noticed before. “You really enjoy this school?”

“I do. I wish I could stay forever, or at least through my second year.” She winked, something he’d never seen her do. “Maybe you could help me persuade Mother if I don’t have an offer next year?”

His heart filled that she had found something exciting to focus upon. “I give you my word I will do whatever I can.”

She grabbed on to his arm and squeezed. “I always thought you the best sibling a lady could have.”

At that, he chuckled. “I don’t recall that exact phrase the morning you woke with a frog in your bed.”

She laughed, a full, hearty laugh, not the gentle ladylike laugh she used at home. It was as if in just a month’s time, she had accepted who she was, and he couldn’t be more pleased for her.

“There they are.” She pointed to the lawn with a pair of targets set up. “Lissette is very patient with Dory.”

Two women stood facing the targets, one with midnight-black hair and Dory, with the sun catching the red strands in her mahogany hair. Neither woman wore a bonnet, no doubt their skin darkening like his sister’s.

He and Rose strode toward them.

The Frenchwoman explained something then eyed the target and let her knife fly. It hit dead center. Despite the warmth of the day, he felt a chill at such precision. Dory lifted her knife, eyed the target, and let it fly, its handle hitting the top of the target and bouncing into the grass. Both ladies celebrated as if it were well done.

Rose grabbed his arm. “Come. It’s time. Choose your words carefully.” At such a serious tone coming from his sister, he glanced down at her to see her scowling at him. Her statement sounded like a threat.

“Dory, look who came to visit.” Rose’s face changed in an instant, but he knew her false smile.

Dory turned, her eyes widening.

She appeared more beautiful than he remembered, and in that moment, he knew himself to be an idiot to think he could ever allow her to marry another. “Dory.”

Mademoiselle Lissette came forward. “Rose, let us retrieve the knives so we can use them again.”

As his sister and the Frenchwoman walked toward the targets, he tried to find the words he wanted to say, but they were a tangled pile of twine. That thought had him smiling. “I had much I wished to say to you, but I find my thoughts are a muddle.”

Dory’s brows lowered. “If you came to tell me about Lord Leighhall, you’re too late. I know.” She stood straighter, as if expecting an argument.

“That is not why I came.”

Uncertainty flashed in her multi-colored gaze, though at the moment, green seemed to be dominating. “Then do not let me take time away from your visit to your sister.” She turned away and took a few steps before he found his voice.

“Wait.” Where were his words?

She stopped but didn’t look at him. “Lord Harewood, I don’t believe we have anything further to discuss.”

A spike of fear ripped through his chest. He needed to remain calm. She was not married yet. He had today to convince her. “But we do. We need to discuss your pending marriage to Lord Dearling. I understand from my sister that he visited yesterday.”

She looked at him then. “He did.” Her voice sounded wary.

“I don’t believe that Dearling can protect you from the ton , or even his own mother, to be completely honest. Whatever he may have said to convince you of his loyalty, I promise it will not last long. He may even fail to arrive at the church.”

She glanced back toward his sister before walking over to face him. “Lord Dearling would never be so uncouth. He told me quite clearly that he could not marry me because of my mother. So if you think to find another man for me to marry, you do not truly understand the damage my mother has done.”

He wanted to shout with joy but kept his own counsel. “But I do understand, which is why I am proposing that I marry you.” That didn’t sound like he’d meant it to. Why couldn’t he think? Was this how she felt most of the time? If so, her concerted efforts on conversation were quite admirable.

She lifted her chin and placed one hand on her hip. “If you think to come here to play the martyr and marry me to save the reputation of this school, then you are as ignorant as a baby in a lumbermill. Why would I marry you when I have a perfectly lovely place here, where I can learn all I wish? I will no doubt be left here since neither my mother nor my father have thought about me in months. In fact, I may stay here until I’m expert enough to teach future students, thereby enjoying my life to the fullest whilst doing what I wish. I understand that spinsters do have a bit of independence, though certainly not as much as widows. Now, being a widow would be the perfect situation for me, as a widow has no need to be a companion or to have a chaperone. Widows truly have the best of society, as they can enjoy the events they choose with no one judging their actions or expecting them to marry. Of course, paradoxically, to become a widow, first one must secure a husband, which we’ve already established is beyond my means and unnecessary. And why are you smiling at me?”

As if the stars had aligned in her single soliloquy, his mind cleared. “I have missed your squiggly lines.”

“My squiggly…? Oh. I did not know you enjoyed my ramblings. In fact, it was you who helped me to stop them.” She frowned at him, clearly not pleased with his experiment.

“Yes, I did, but only to help you with others. I have always enjoyed them.” He smiled at her, unable to stop. Everything about her he loved. Her rambles, her humor, even her pique.

“Yes, well, I’m glad I have been able to entertain you, but I still don’t see any reason why I would marry you.” She lifted her hand as if to dismiss him.

Once more, panic set in. “Because I love you.” He waited, his breath stuck in his lungs.

“You love me?” Her words came out in a whisper, as if she couldn’t believe it.

He took her bare hand. “I do. I love you, Dory. I don’t wish to go another day without you as my wife. I would marry you tomorrow if I could, but I still wouldn’t because I would want all of England to know that I am marrying you, and they are invited to attend.”

She continued to stare at him in disbelief. “But I can’t be Belinda.”

He squeezed her hand in his. “I loved Belinda with all my heart. When she died, I thought she took my heart with her. But then I met you. You made my heart beat again. You showed me what happiness could be. You brought me love. At first, I was blind, so busy observing others, I failed to observe myself. But I finally understood my feelings. I had Belinda. Now I want Dory. I believe you love me. Tell me I’m right, Dory. Please.” He took another deep breath to steady his heart. “Do you love me?”

Her eyes almost glowed green now as water filled them. “I do.”

Relief, joy, and happiness washed over him like the sun’s first rays warmed the Earth, his heart finally able to beat without a heavy rock holding it down. “Since I love you, and you love me, I ask you now, Lady Dorothea Ansley of Preston. Will you be my wife?”

She sniffed, but her smile had returned. “I will, Fen.”

At the use of her nickname for him, he couldn’t resist her another moment and pulled her closer to kiss her.

“What are you all about?” The duchess’s voice rang out from behind him.

Rose ran past him before he could turn around. “Lady Northwick, my brother just proposed to Dory and she said yes!”

Devil it. He leaned down and kissed his love.

Her mouth opened to his, but he refused the invitation, suddenly aware from the chatter of voices that there were many as their witnesses. Just as he pulled away, Dory licked at his lips, sending a shock through his body.

She smiled up at him before walking forward, forcing him to turn and face their audience. As he counted the faces, he swore he’d been to plays with fewer people. The duchess stood above on the terrace studying Dory. His sister stood a step below. On the ground at the bottom of the terrace were Lady Georgina and Lady Eleanor. Mademoiselle Lissette stood off to the side with Lady Sophie, and striding toward them all was the Duke of Northwick.

He tensed. Whatever the man had to say, nothing would dissuade him from his current path. The duke stepped in front of them.

Dory spoke at once. “Lord Northwick, I can explain.”

“No.” Felton squeezed Dory’s hand. “ I can explain. I am marrying Dory as soon as the banns can be read.”

The duke’s gaze remained steady as it moved from Dory to himself. “Then I expect an invitation to the wedding.”

Relieved the man wouldn’t try to stop him, he nodded. “We would be honored.”

Within seconds, they were surrounded by everyone, or rather the ladies surrounded Dory, clearly happy for her. Lady Northwick took the opportunity to pull him aside. “Felton, I’m so pleased you have found another love.”

“I think Belinda would approve.”

“I agree.” She gave him a kind smile. “For me, it still feels like you are marrying into my family. This school and these students have become my family. Maybe both you and Dory can be guest lecturers sometime. It would be a shame to only see you at Christmastide and in Town.”

“Joanna, we would be honored.”

“Good, but I do have one concession I must insist upon.”

He stiffened, immediately wary. “And that is?”

“That you never, for any reason, interfere with my school or my students again. The duke and I are well equipped to handle its reputation. Understand?”

He swallowed hard, his own efforts in light of the duke’s influence seeming suddenly childish. “Yes. I had only Belinda’s name in mind.” He didn’t add that his marriage to Dory might help, though the damage her mother had done kept him silent.

The duchess raised her brow. “Your intentions may have been honorable, but my sister is long gone. It is time you joined the living.”

He nodded, in full agreement. As the duchess turned away, he felt a hand take his, and he immediately turned to see what his sister wanted. “Yes?”

“I’m so happy for you.” She rested her hand over her heart. “Dory is perfect for you.”

“You knew Dearling had broken the betrothal and didn’t tell me. Why?”

Her gaze turned wise beyond her years. “I had to know you truly cared for Dory. If you did, then you would hurt like you had hurt her. It also meant you were feeling again. Truly feeling. I wanted to be sure my brother had returned from living in the shadows.”

He pulled her forward and hugged her so she wouldn’t realize there were tears in his eyes. “You are far more intelligent than you accept.”

She pulled away and grinned. “Imagine how much more so I’ll be after this year at Belinda’s school.”

He had no doubt she would absorb ever piece of knowledge she could and become a far better person than he could ever hope to be. “When you are ready to find the man you want to marry, I will help you in any way I can.”

Rose wiggled her brows. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

He squeezed her hand and she let go, off to talk to her new friends. He searched for Dory and found her speaking with the duchess. He headed that way, breaking into their conversation. “I do not mean to interrupt, but I request a walk with my betrothed, if that would be acceptable?”

The duchess nodded. “As long as you stay within sight, I will allow it.”

“My lady?” He offered his arm to Dory and they strolled down the grass. Her lemony scent filled his lungs, and he breathed deeply.

“Must we wait three weeks?” She looked up at him, her love shining in her eyes.

His brain, for once, was in sync with his heart as he gazed at her. “I would prefer to. I do not want our wedding to appear hurried in any way. I’m proud to make you my wife.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Then I guess we will simply have to hide our kisses from prying eyes.”

Hide their kisses? “No, we need not hide them because there will be no more until after we wed.”

She smirked. “Not even to stop me from rambling?”

He chuckled. “No, not even then.”

A devilish light came into her eyes. “We’ll see.”

He groaned silently, quite sure this would be the longest three weeks of his life.