Chapter 23

Felicity was a zombie. She walked through the house as if she had died long ago, and her body simply refused to stop moving. No sense of purpose. Not feeling or thinking or having any desires of its own. It was merely a vessel, a broken husk inside an all but useless heart.

She would have stayed in bed all day if her father had allowed it. She would not have bathed. She would not have eaten. She would have simply lain there, eyes closed, pretending that this was all some horrid nightmare from which she could not wake.

It had been just two days since she received the letter from His Grace and, in those two days, little had changed. If anything, she felt worse than she had before. The reality now had time to sit and stew, to make itself felt and known. Her sister told her that things would get better. Her father, too, assured her that with time, all wounds would heal. But with the way she was feeling, she wasn't sure that would ever happen.

This was her life now. One of misery. Of loneliness. One of heartache.

"Felicity!" she heard her father call to her. "You have a visitor!"

She was sitting in her room, by the window, staring out into the world which she had no intention of ever rejoining. Her diary lay open in front of her, but she had not touched it since the day the Duke had come here and been turned away by her father. Writing did not help. Crying did not help. Nothing, it seemed, helped.

The sound of her father calling stirred little inside of her. It was not His Grace who had come, so what did she care for a visitor? Besides, there was another reason that she was in her room hiding right now. Partly to avoid the world and everyone in it. And partly to avoid her sister.

Lord Moore was here today, come by to see his bride and speak with her father about the impending wedding. And where she liked the man well enough, he reminded her of His Grace, so she wanted nothing to do with him.

Further to that point, being around Lord Moore and her sister was an insufferable experience. Once, she hated it because she found their displays of affection over the top and a tad distasteful. Now, it was like a knife plunging into her chest whenever she saw them holding hands and kissing and cooing and treating one another with adoration.

"Felicity!" her father's voice cried out from downstairs again. "A visitor!"

She did not move. She did not bother going downstairs. Her hope was that however it might be would simply leave. Surely, by now, they knew what had happened and would know better than to disturb her.

Sadly, no. Soon enough, Felicity heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall. And then, a knock at the door.

"Felicity..." It was her sister, of all people.

Felicity turned around. "Go away."

"There is someone here who wishes to see you."

"I do not care!"

"I think you will!" There was something about her sister's voice that caused pause. A sense of excitement in it... a sound that reminded Felicity of hope.

"Co -- come in," she said, making sure to keep any sense of hope at bay. Hope was for the hopeful, and she was certainly not one of those.

And a good thing, too, for the moment the door opened, and Felicity saw who had come to see her... well, she had thought her day could not get any worse. Typically, she was wrong.

"Beatrice..." She didn't bother trying to hide the disdain in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I am sorry to come under such... terrible circumstance," Beatrice said, hesitating by the door as if to enter might see the death of her. "But I had little choice."

"I am sure you did."

"Felicity!" her sister hissed at her from behind Beatrice. "Be nice."

Felicity's lips curled. "No, I don't think I will."

"I know that I am maybe the last person you wish to see," Beatrice continued, sounding properly chastised. She stood with her hands folded before her, her head bowed. "And I do not blame you. The way I behaved before..." A shake of the head. "It was abhorrent of me. I swear I had no idea that you and His Grace were... were so close. If I had known..."

"Is that why you came?" Felicity sneered. "To apologize for something that does not matter? Go ahead, I am sure that by now you have heard of what has happened. You must be thrilled."

Beatrice's big eyes grew wide with shock. "Never! Yes, I heard of what happened but to say that I might be happy? Felicity, I hope you do not think that little of me?"

In response, Felicity simply looked away. She did not blame Beatrice for what had happened. Of course, it was not her fault. But she didn't help! Happy to flirt and try and seduce the Duke while they were together, maybe even reminding him of what single life was like and what he was missing.

"I was wrong for the way I acted," Beatrice said. "And for that, I am sorry. And I hope... well, I hope that I can make it up to you."

Slowly, Felicity turned back, startled by the look of remorse on Beatrice's face. A look that suggested she really meant it. "And how would you do that."

"Show her the letter!" Phoebe cried.

"Letter?" Felicity perked up, now seeing the letter clutched in Beatrice's hands. "What... what letter?"

"Now, do not misunderstand me, but I saw His Grace yesterday – I was with my father," she hurried to explain before Felicity could say anything. "They are thinking of going into business together and he was at my home. Naturally, you came up and when I told him I might visit you today he asked me if I could deliver a letter to you. From his own pen, for your eyes only."

"He... did?" Her eyes flicked to and held onto that letter. Her mind raced and her heart began to beat as it had not in days. "What does it say?"

"I do not know," Beatrice said. "He just made me promise that you read it." Cautiously, she stepped into the room and thrust the letter out.

Felicity eyed the letter but did not reach for it.

Did she even want to read it? The Duke had already written her one letter, which still sat open on her desk as if to taunt her. She knew how he felt. She knew what he wanted. She knew how little he meant to her. What could a second letter say that would change such a thing?

Unless... she licked her lips and nearly reached for the letter. What if it was an apology? What if it was him admitting he was wrong? What if he asked for her to come back to him? And if he did, could she even say yes, knowing the kind of man he was? Another trick, surely? A final attempt to seduce her into bed...

She did not want to read it. She did not want to be reminded of who His Grace was. And yet... she found herself reaching for the letter because she could not help herself.

Lady Felicity Hayward

This will be the last time I write to you. From now on, we are to cease all communication and anything you send me will remain unopened. Please do not come and see me. Please do not reach out. We are finished, Lady Felicity, and I ask that you respect me enough to accept it.

His Grace, the Duke of Walford

"Oh..." The letter fell from her hands. "Th -- thank you for bringing this to me."

"What did it say?" Phoebe asked excitedly. "Did he apologize? Did he --" She caught her tongue when she saw the bereaved look on her sister's face. "Oh, Felicity..." She swept past Beatrice, fell to her knees, and wrapped her arms around her sister. "I am so sorry! I thought... I thought..."

"It is fine," Felicity forced herself to say. "It is... it is as I expected."

In a way, it was lucky that Felicity was already as broken as she was. That her heart had already been removed. If it had not been, then maybe, most likely, she would have felt something more. But in that moment, with all she had been through, she could not even bring herself to cry.

It was done then. Made official. His Grace wasn't even going to waste his time trying to bed her anymore, for he knew a lost cause when he saw one. It would be as if she did not exist, as if what they had... as if it was nothing.

"I'm sorry," Beatrice said, almost sounding as if she meant it. "I had no idea... if I had known... I would have never --"

"It is fine." Felicity forced herself to smile and look at Beatrice. "And thank you for bringing this to me, Lady Beatrice. But if you do not mind, I think I would like to be alone."

"Of course." Beatrice spun around and made for the door.

"You too, Phoebe."

Her sister took a moment to release her. She held on tight, her head buried in Felicity's arms, body shaking as she wept silently. But then she forced herself to let go, and was about to stand when she eyed the letter.

"This --" She snatched it up. "I will dispose of this." She scrunched it into a ball as she stormed toward the door. "I cannot believe... the audacity... who does he think he is!"

"Is it fine," Felicity said again, her chin wobbling now, the tears almost upon her somehow. "If you might close the door, sister? I need some time to think."

"Of course." Phoebe stepped through the door, took a final look at her sister, opened her mouth to speak, decided against it, and then closed the door behind her.

Alone now, Felicity thought she might break down and weep again, but she had no more tears to give. In a way, she was glad for the letter, for it gave her something she hadn't realized she needed. An ending.

What was the point of mourning for a man who did not do the same for her? What was the point in letting him get to her like this? If she did, it was as good as admitting that he won. She knew he wasn't thinking of her, so why think of him?

In fact, for the first time all day, Felicity felt a sudden desire to write in her diary. A new entry. One that didn't concern the Duke or what had happened, rather, she would write of the future, a future spent alone but then again, wasn't that always going to be the case?

She bent her head over the desk and started writing. No idea how long she was there for, no idea how many hours had passed. Through the window, the sun rose higher in the sky before slowly dipping, and with each word written, she could feel herself begin to heel.

Then there was another knock at the door.

She ignored it, not wanting to be disturbed.

Another knock, followed by a familiar voice. "Felicity," her sister said. "I must speak with you."

"I am busy!"

"You will want to hear this." The door popped open, but Felicity did not turn around, nor did she intend to, until she heard a second set of footsteps behind her sister.

It was Lord Moore of all people and the sight of him had Felicity snarling. "What do you want?"

"I showed him the letter," Phoebe said as she stepped around Lord Moore.

"You what?!"

"I thought he might like to see the sort of friends that he keeps. But Felicity..." Her eyes were wide, her body vibrated, and Felicity couldn't remember a time she had ever seen her sister so excited.

"Forgive me, Lady Felicity," Lord Moore began nervously. He held the letter in his hand. "But your sister showed me what Charles wrote to you and... well, I thought you might like to know."

"Know what?" she sneered at him. It was not his fault what had happened, but he was friends with the monster so in her mind, he was as much at fault.

"I have known Charles – His Grace - most of my life. Long enough that I recognize his handwriting as if it was my own and this..." He waved the letter. "Charles did not write this."

"Wh -- what?" she frowned, eyeing the letter. "What do you mean?"

"He did not write these words," Lord Moore said firmly. "And your sister has informed me that you still have the other letter he sent you. I was wondering if I may..."

She did not know what to think or say. Was this another trick? Why would Lord Moore be in on it? So instead of speaking, she reached over and picked up the first letter, thrusting it to him.

Lord Moore's eyes scanned the piece of parchment, his brow scrunched, his head nodding in confirmation. And just like that, there was a flicker of hope inside of her.

"Just as I thought." He looked right at her. "Neither of these were written by His Grace."

"But that's..." She gave her head a shake. "That is impossible."

"Your sister told me what happened," he continued. "And the truth is, I could not believe it when she did. I know Charles – His Grace," he corrected. "As well as any man and where the two of you are concerned..." A soft smile crossed his lips. "I do not think I have ever seen him so happy. He would not end things with you, Lady Felicity. And if he did..." His nose curled and he waved the letter again. "It would not be like this."

"I don't..." Her heart was beating. She could feel life entering her limbs again. Hope, that was what it was. A sense of hope she thought lost to her. "I don't understand."

"I do," Phoebe sneered. "Who else but her?"

"Her?"

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "You have been tricked, Felicity. Both of you have been tricked!"

And that was when it dawned on her. All of it. From the first letter she received to His Grace's arrival here the next day, to the delivery of this most timely letter from a woman who she had no business trusting but for some reason had.

Hope wasn't what burned through Felicity as she put all of this together. Hope wasn't what had her jumping from her chair with a sense of vigor not seen in days. Hope wasn't the look she fixed on her sister who returned it in kind. Rather, it was vengeance! Vengeance that she sensed His Grace would be just as interested in taking.