Page 33 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

33

Felicity

F elicity settled into one of the armchairs in front of Ash’s desk while her brother sat in the one next to her. Ash folded himself into his chair and took a bracing breath, like a man readying himself for death. It seemed a trifle dramatic.

“I believe it prudent we begin with your sister’s impromptu visit here,” Ash said, his voice imbued with ducal authority.

Her breath stalled. Shite. Perhaps not dramatic. Was he going to tell her brother of her plans for seduction? No. Certainly not. But they hadn’t yet discussed what they would say to her brother. She was hoping for more time so that it would be something along the lines of I’m marrying this duke instead, huzzah!

But they hadn’t come close to having that conversation. And after what she had just uncovered at the beach… It was going to be an uphill climb—no, uphill was too easy. A completely vertical climb, like climbing the White Cliffs of Dover.

“Your sister came here with concerns regarding the betrothal contract with Lord Wessex.”

She let out a breath. Catastrophe one avoided. No mention of her seduction.

“I am well aware of my sister’s concerns.” Felix turned to her. “Did you truly go above my head to His Grace with this, Felicity? We have been over this an exasperating number of times.”

She glared at her brother. Why bother saying exasperating when your voice is dripping in it, brother?

He ignored her look. “Trust me, I understand your dreams of love, but they are nothing but foolish musings. Love belongs in the realm of fairy tales and myths. It is not for the likes of us. You were born into a life of duty; a duty which you will serve as a duchess—”

Yaddy-yaddah-yaddah. Was he really still droning on?

“—This was what father wished for you. A life that will give you security and safety. At least Lord Wessex is young and handsome. I am sure with time you will learn to appreciate all of this.”

“There is no ‘with time’, Lord Bentley,” Ash cut in, his voice firm. “The betrothal is off.”

Felix’s features tightened, and he turned to Ash. “What has my sister done? I assure you after I discuss with her, she will make her apologies and nothing of the like will happen again.”

Well, that was just completely unfair. “I did nothing wrong, Felix. Why do you assume it is my fault?”

He lifted a brow, his expression saying seriously? So, she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Perhaps that right there is why. You just stuck your tongue out at me. Let me guess, you did something to scare Lord Wessex off. Covered his pillow with flour or dipped his comb in ink or stuffed his boots with manure or cut rather unfortunately placed holes in his breeches.”

“Those were things I did as a child, Felix. Plus, you deserved every one of them.” And quite honestly, Colborn did, too.

Ash blinked at the two of them. “Lady Felicity is telling the truth…” Ash started slowly, still staring at them with a semblance of alarm.

Shite. Revealing these things wasn’t the best way to convince him to spend the rest of his life with her. Granted, she was fairly certain he knew mostly the true her that resided inside the facade she had carefully constructed for society. And he liked that woman, she thought.

No, doubts. Not now. Shoo.

“At first, I may have felt the same as you, my lord,” Ash continued. “That her concerns could easily be addressed by me speaking with my son. However, when my son arrived here, his treatment of your sister was deplorable. I have never been more ashamed of my son, nor of myself, for I am the one who raised him. I accept full responsibility for his actions.”

Her brother stiffened, his gaze darting between Ash and Felicity. “What happened?”

Felicity looked away. Felix would overreact if he knew. The pattern of her armchair was quite beautiful.

“Felicity…?” Felix said slowly.

She picked at the fabric. Such beautiful swirls of dark green and cream.

“What in the bloody hell happened?”

She winced at the threat simmering in Felix’s tone. Felix did not tolerate slights to his family. Ever. And how Colborn had behaved… It would strike a raw nerve, reminding Felix of old wounds. She needed to rein him in and get through this with as little details as possible.

Ash went to speak, but Felicity cut him off. “It is nothing, Felix. Are details truly required? The betrothal is off, and I won’t be marrying Lord Wessex. That is the end of it.”

Felix turned to her, and all of a sudden, she was moving as he slid her chair to face him. He gripped her hands and spoke low, “Flick, what happened? Did he hurt you? A broken betrothal is not nearly enough if he hurt you.” His gaze locked on Ash’s. “I will see him at dawn if he touched my sister in any way against her will.”

Bloody hell. This conversation was getting out of hand. She loved her brother, and she knew he truly loved and cared for her—despite his frustrating habit of not listening to her— but at the moment, he needed to tone that love down a bit.

“No one is seeing anyone at dawn. The Duke has handled his son. Lord Wessex was rude to me, that is all.” That might be underplaying it slightly. But Felix didn’t need to know that.

Felix scoffed. Curse it. He saw right through that.

Ash cut in, “My son was less than a gentleman with your sister and made advances on her she did not wish for. Though he eventually stopped, his behavior was inexcusable. I intervened and ended the betrothal immediately. He is nowhere near fit to be a husband any time soon; that is clear.”

Felicity glanced at Felix. His face was turning an alarming shade of red, but he appeared to be trying to hold himself in check.

“See, nothing to worry your little heart over, Felix. All will be well.” She smiled brightly.

Felix growled.

Oh, dear.

She stared beseechingly at her brother. “Please, Felix. It has been handled.”

“Believe me, Lord Bentley, my son will pay for his actions,” Ash added. “And I assure you, we will end this betrothal with the utmost tact so that there are no blemishes to Lady Felicity’s reputation. It will fall solely on my and my son’s shoulders. We want in no way for this to impede on her making a respectable match.”

Her smile melted away. Making a what now? Felicity’s heart grew cold. Damn that imbecile. She didn’t want to make a respectable match with some random gentleman.

“We appreciate that, Your Grace.” Though the way Felix seethed hinted at anything but appreciation. “But considering this betrothal has lasted four years, she is rather old to be out now.” Felix’s voice was as stiff as his posture. “Men typically want a young wife. Combine that with a broken betrothal, and it will not work in her favor.”

Felicity snorted. “You hear that, Duke? I’m too old. Ironic, isn’t it?” Oh, the bloody, bloody, bloody irony.

Felix shot her a side-glance, his anger fading into confusion. Whereas now Ash glared at her from behind his mammoth desk. What was it with men having such large desks? Were they compensating for something? Ash probably needed such a large desk to hide his massive amount of stupidity behind.

“Any man would be a fool to overlook you because of your age, Lady Felicity.”

She hated the tact in his tone. Fuck tact.

“Yet, I know of one such idiot,” she murmured, staring straight at Ash.

“Felicity,” Felix hissed.

Ash’s jaw worked, but he continued in a neutral tone, “You are beautiful and graceful and accomplished. I am sure many gentlemen will be thrilled your hand is once again available.”

He was infuriating. And hurtful. As if the only things important about her were the attributes needed for parading her around gentlemen so they could see if she met their criteria. Her stomach clenched like a fist had latched onto it and squeezed.

Those attributes that were purely for show in society, a facade and not the true her, were all that mattered apparently. It would land her a future with another man just like Colborn. And it was bloody poppycock , because the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with was sitting right in front of her. God, it hurt like the fucking devil.

So, she laughed it off. Albeit somewhat hysterically. “Yes, you are correct. Another nameless, faceless, interchangeable broodmare is on the market.” She clapped animatedly. “What a boon!”

Her frustration raged inside her, volatile, swirling madly, dangerously. And she knew she was at risk of falling apart here in this study if she didn’t leave soon. She was losing control of herself. She. Needed. Control. But it was slipping away.

She knew underneath all the excuses Ash created, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, too. She pressed her hand to her chest, against the unbearable ache. She knew he felt it, too. Because this strength of feeling inside her was something that only existed because there was an equally strong feeling that existed in him. It fed off their combined love and created something bigger than each of them on their own.

I want to be so deeply inside you, so entrenched in you, consumed by you, that you and I are no more; only us remains.

One didn’t say such things and not mean them unless they were an unmitigated arse. And Ash wasn’t an unmitigated arse. He wasn’t an arse at all. What he was was daft.

She stood abruptly, the men jumping to follow suit, and she dropped into an exaggerated curtsy. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace, brother. I should probably go work on my watercolors, or practice my needlework, or do something else predictable for an unmarried miss.”

She turned and stormed to door but paused and swirled back to face Ash. “Thank you, Your Grace, for making my decisions for me, treating me like a possession, just like everyone else in this god-forsaken life.” Not even deigning to give them a chance to discuss their future between themselves.

Damn the man.

She let out a low growl as she reached the door.

“Lady Felicity…”

Chin held high, she ignored him and left the room. Bugger the dim-witted man to hell! How dare he Lady Felicity her! She had one thing to say to that. And it was a big, bloody fuck you .