What a Lady Wants Page 11

  “You could have canceled,” he said mildly.

  She stared at him as if he had just suggested slaughtering innocents. “It’s my party. Our party really. I have given it every year since my marriage. I would have to be run over by a carriage and breathing my last before I would think of canceling it, and even then I would expect someone”—she shot him a pointed glance—“to bravely carry on in my place.”

  He nodded in a somber manner. “In the midst of mourning your loss, of course.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to enjoy yourself.” She again started off. “Most of the servants have already gone to Mother’s. Those that remain are finishing packing up the food in the kitchen. Mother sent notes to all the guests informing them of the change in location.” She shook her head in amazement. “Only Mother could manage that. I have no idea how she does it but I am eternally grateful that she does.”

  He trailed after her. “But why am I to stay here?”

  “There’s every possibility some of those invited did not receive Mother’s note and they may well come here. I need you to send them on to Cavendish House.”

  “Can’t a servant do that? Your butler perhaps?”

  “He’s accompanying me. There will still be a footman here, but it would be terribly impolite to greet a guest with only a footman.”

  “No it wouldn’t,” he muttered. “What about your husband?”

  “He’s already gone,” she said over her shoulder.

  A horrid thought struck him. “You’re not leaving me alone with the children, are you?”

  “I would never do that to the boys although it would certainly serve you right. They are firmly established in the old nursery at Cavendish House.”

  “Maddy!”

  She turned on her heel and glared at him. “In ways too numerous to count, the blame for this can be placed firmly on your head. I need someone from the family to be here in my stead. Surely you can do this one little thing for your sister? Your twin sister. Who once shared a womb with you!”

  He stared at her and realized further argument was futile. “It will be my plea sure,” he said with a weak smile. “Just how long am I to be exiled here?”

  She thought for a moment. “No more than an hour I think.” She nodded. “Yes, that will be more than sufficient. After all, this isn’t a ball where people can drift in and out all evening. It’s a small, intimate—”

  Nigel snorted. “Only fifty or so of our closest friends.”

  “—gathering. To be more than an hour late for such an event would deserve to be greeted by no more than a footman.” Maddy glanced behind him at the empty ballroom and heaved a wistful sigh. “It would have been quite grand, you know. There was to be dancing after dinner and the library was to be set for cards for those who prefer games to dancing. I had even arranged for two separate sets of musicians so there would be music throughout the evening.”

  “It was grand last year and it will be again next year and it will be every bit as smashing to night. Tonight”—he took his sister’s hands, raised them to his lips, and met her gaze firmly—“will be different but no less wonderful because regardless of where it is, it is still a Countess of Windham affair.”

  “You are a charming rogue. It explains so much.” She kissed his cheek, pulled her hands from his, and started toward the entry. “One hour, Nigel. I expect to see you at Cavendish House no more than a quarter of an hour after that. This is to mark your birthday as well as mine, remember.”

  “Unofficially, of course.”

  “Absolutely. I do not celebrate birthdays publicly.”

  He chuckled. “Precisely why the party is weeks removed from the actual date of our birth. And what will my loving sister do if I’m late?”

  “I don’t know but I can assure you it will be vindictive and quite painful,” she tossed over her shoulder. “And will make you rue the day you ever so much as heard the word frog.”

  He laughed and called after her. “Don’t you want to know why I was early?”

  “No!”

  “I just wanted to tell you, you were right.”

  “I’m always right,” she called back. The next moment, she swept through the front door, manned by the lone remaining footman, accompanied by her butler and a few other servants. The door shut firmly behind her.

  Nigel glanced at the ballroom and grinned. The more he thought about it, the more he’d wager the idea of frogs on boats came from Maddy’s husband, although he’d never tell his sister his suspicions. Still, no one could handle Maddy the way Gerard did. Probably one of the reasons she’d married him even if she’d never admit such a thing.

  He started to step down into the ballroom, then thought better of it, turned, and headed toward the library. Gerard had an excellent library if not quite the size of that at Cavendish House. No doubt there was something of interest there to pass the next hour with. Preferably a treatise on estate management or investments or finance or any number of other topics that might help him in his study of the family interests. He stepped into the library and scanned the volumes neatly arranged by category. Nigel wasn’t especially organized himself—his own library was a haphazard arrangement where philosophy might well be shelved beside poetry, next to ancient history, flanked by current novels—but he did appreciate organization in others, particularly when it made his own life easier.

  He’d started studying the notebooks his father had given him, with great reluctance at first, and, much to his surprise, had found it all, well, interesting. The family’s interests were admittedly complicated and would take some effort to master, but Nigel was having little difficulty understanding his father’s style of management. He was starting to believe, if only a little, that he might well be able to take his father’s place without disaster befalling the family.

  Maddy was right about that. Pity she hadn’t stayed long enough to hear him admit it. It certainly would have made up for the flood and the frogs. Not entirely, perhaps, but it would have given her enormous satisfaction. Maddy loved being right.

  He stepped to a shelf of books on finance and banking and perused the titles. An annoying thought struck him, and he firmly thrust it to the back of his mind. Still, he couldn’t completely ignore one insistent question.

  What else might his sister be right about?

  Felicity stared in horror at the empty ballroom. Dear Lord, did she have the wrong night? It would serve her right after convincing her parents there was no real harm in allowing her to attend Madeline’s party alone. After all, she was of age and had traveled extensively without them. She ignored the fact that she’d been well chaperoned. Besides, she’d pointed out, they didn’t know Lady Windham and had been surprised by the invitation in the first place.

  This was obviously divine retribution for her sins although she couldn’t remember anything she’d done that would merit embarrassment of this magnitude. She’d never made a mistake like this before. Indeed, she was certain Madeline’s party was two days after Mr. Burnfield-White’s garden party. Perhaps she had read the invitation wrong? She should have realized her error when there was no long line of carriages depositing guests. She simply assumed it was, as Madeline had said, a small affair.

  Regardless of the reason, there was obviously no party in progress, and from the looks of it, nothing planned. At least not for to night. If she hurried, she could be back in her carriage before the somewhat confused footman who had answered the door and taken her wrap recovered his wits and returned from wherever he had scurried off to. As supportive of Felicity’s plans as Madeline was, even she might think it overeager for Felicity to arrive on the wrong night. She ignored the nasty thought that perhaps she had missed it—and the opportunity to be with Nigel again—altogether.

  She hadn’t seen him since their encounter at Mr. Burnfield-White’s unless one counted the fact that he was constantly present in her thoughts and in her dreams, in which case she was scarcely ever without him. Eugenia had brought up the idea of love,
and until then Felicity hadn’t considered love at all. Still, what else but love would account for it? She wished to be with him every minute. To spend her days in his company and her nights in his arms. To have his children and share his life and grow old by his side. She’d never felt anything like this before. This ache, this longing, this need. She’d no more believed in love at first sight than she’d believed in magic or fate until he climbed over her wall and into her life. It was as if she could not be fully whole without him, as if he were a missing part of her. It was exceedingly strange. Felicity had always thought of herself as complete and in de pen dent. Now there was a hole in her world only he could fill. It was not at all rational and made no sense whatsoever. But then perhaps love wasn’t supposed to make sense. And surely this must be love.

  Still, until he felt the same, it was best not to appear too enthusiastic, although it was much harder than she had expected to act as if she wasn’t the least bit interested in him, when all she wanted was to fling herself into his arms. Aloof but amused was Madeline’s advice, so aloof but amused Felicity would be. And aloof had no business being here in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  She turned and headed back toward the front door, grateful that in this particular house the ballroom was directly across from the entry at the opposite side of a grand, galleried salon. With luck, she could be out the door before anyone knew she was here. Felicity sent a prayer heavenward that her driver had not yet left.

  “I would wager you did not receive word,” the familiar voice sounded somewhere in the shadows off to her right.

  She drew a deep breath and adopted a pleasant smile. “I suspect I would be wise not to accept that wager. Word about what?”

  Nigel stepped from the shadows, a book in his hand. “My mother sent a note to all of my sister’s guests saying to night’s party had been moved to Cavendish House.”

  “Oh dear.” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t receive anything of the sort.”

  “It was inevitable, I suppose, that in a gathering of this size—only my sister would call it small and intimate, by the way—someone would be missed.” He stepped closer. “I didn’t realize you knew my sister.”

  “We’ve only recently met,” she said quickly. “You did say we had a lot in common.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did,” he murmured and studied her thoughtfully.

  At once she realized they were all but alone here. Highly improper, even scandalous. Still, it was an innocent mistake. At least on her part. “If I might be so bold as to ask why, if the party has been moved, you are here?”

  “I’ve been exiled for the moment.” He grinned. “Penance for my sins.”

  She raised a brow. “All of them? It’s to be a lengthy exile then?”

  “Good God, it would, wouldn’t it?” He chuckled. “No, my exile only continues another half an hour or so. I am to stay here and direct any guests who arrive on to Cavendish House.”

  “Dare I ask what particular sin prompted your exile?”

  “It was harmless enough, at least it seemed so at first. Some time ago, I gave her boys toy boats, as I had quite enjoyed sailing boats on ponds myself as a boy. Apparently I also mentioned that I had enjoyed sailing them in bathtubs as well. Boys, being what boys are, decided to follow in my footsteps with rather unfortunate results.”

  She winced. “I see.”

  “A rather nasty flood, from what I understand.” He paused. “And then there were the frogs.”

  “Frogs?”

  “To sail the boats.”

  “Of course,” she said faintly.

  “The frogs were not my idea.” His voice was firm but there was a definite twinkle in his eye. “It seems many of them escaped and are even now running free through the house.”

  “And your sister blames you?”

  He nodded in a solemn manner. “I am the reason for the flood and the frogs. It sounds rather biblical, doesn’t it?”

  “All you need now is famine.” She tilted her head and considered him. “You don’t seem overly contrite for a man responsible for a disaster of biblical proportions.”

  “Oh, but I am.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I am wracked with guilt.”

  She bit back a smile. “Wracked?”

  “Perhaps not wracked but I am sorry. Extremely sorry.” His gaze met hers, and they burst into laughter.

  “Will your sister forgive you?” Felicity said, sniffing back a laugh.

  “Probably.” He grinned. “She always does.”

  “I should leave you to your exile then.” Felicity stepped toward the door.

  “No, stay,” he said, looking somewhat surprised at his own words, then he smiled. “I would appreciate the company. And I can then accompany you to Cavendish House.”

  “It wouldn’t be at all proper, you know.” She shook her head. “We are very nearly alone here.”

  “Nonsense. There’s a footman at the door behind you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. The bewildered footman had once again taken up his position by the door.

  “And any number of servants still in the kitchen. I would be happy to call them in to chaperone if you are afraid to be alone with me.”

  “I have been alone with you before,” she said pointedly. “In circumstances far more scandalous than this.”

  “And I was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Perfect?”

  “Well, with you.”

  She laughed. “You thought I was a child.” She studied him curiously. “For a man who does not wish to marry, are you not at all concerned about being caught in a compromising situation with a woman who does wish to marry?”

  “I assure you, Felicity, I have no intention of behaving in a manner that would be considered the least bit compromising.”

  She waved at the book in his hand. “Don’t you have reading to help pass the time?”

  He grimaced. “This particular book will not help the time pass but rather stretch it out endlessly.” He tossed the book onto a nearby bench, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. “Do save me, Felicity, from the tedium of Modern Methods of Soil Conservation. You have my word I shall be the epitome of propriety at all times.”

  She gazed into his blue eyes and said the first thing that came into her head. “Pity.” She resisted the urge to laugh at the startled expression on his face, pulled her hand from his, and moved away. She glanced around the grand salon. “What a lovely home this is.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, the faintest hint of confusion in his voice. Good. She quite liked confusing him. “Maddy married well.”

  “As was expected,” Felicity murmured and wandered to the arched entry of the ballroom. She gazed out over the grand room with its classically styled paintings on the ceiling and deep, gilded moldings. “Is she happy, do you think?”

  “Happy?” he said from behind her.

  “With her life, I mean.”

  “Well, she has a husband she loves and five little boys she adores.” He stepped to her side and looked out over the ballroom. “Although perhaps not at the moment.”

  Felicity laughed.

  “As for the rest of her life…” Nigel paused for a long moment. “A few weeks ago I would have answered without question, but then I had never given it much thought. Now…”

  “Now?” She turned toward him. He stood entirely too close to her than was proper, or perhaps she stood entirely too close to him. Regardless, she had no desire to move.

  “Now I realize how very lucky my sister is. She has indeed found happiness within the very narrow confines we allow women in this world.”

  If she leaned toward him the tiniest bit, it wouldn’t take any effort at all for him to lean forward as well and kiss her. “Do you think those restrictions too narrow, then? Should your sister have been allowed to become what ever in life she wished?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “And no.”

  “No?” She wondered how it would feel to have his lips on hers.

  “
I do feel a woman’s primary responsibility in life is to be a good wife and mother. However”—he drew a deep breath—“you, as well as my sister, have recently made me realize that perhaps it isn’t entirely fair to restrict the use of intelligent minds to the male of the species alone.”

  “That’s very…” She searched for the right word. It was difficult to think with him so very close. “Progressive of you.”

  “It seems my thinking has changed on a number of issues of late.” His gaze searched hers.

  “Oh?” Her voice had the oddest breathless quality.

  “I have begun to wonder if I am not quite as incompetent as I have always thought I was.” His gaze drifted to her lips and back to her eyes.

  She swallowed hard. “I suspect no one thought that but you.”

  “I doubt it. I have made no effort to encourage anyone to think otherwise.”

  “I have never thought that.” Her heart thudded in her chest.

  He bent his head closer to hers. “But you scarcely know me.”

  “And yet…” She raised her face to his. There was no more than a breath, a word, a sigh between his lips and hers.

  “And yet…” His lips brushed hers.

  “Beg pardon, sir.” A voice sounded from across the ballroom.

  Nigel straightened and at once stepped back. A man carrying a violin case hurried across the floor toward them.

  Nigel drew a deep breath. “May I help you?”

  “I do hope so. None of them in the kitchen seemed to know much of anything but they’re all running around like chickens without their heads so I figured someone in here might help. We are, or were, supposed to play at a party here to night. I know we’re a bit late, for the start of things, that is, but we were told we would be playing later as there was to be other music as well, so…” The musician shook his head. “We could have the wrong date or house or—”