Page 4

Felix

Devonford Castle.

Two Years Later.

Felix Jennings, Earl of Bentley, let his head fall back and rock against the soft squabs of his carriage. A rare silence had fallen over the occupants of the conveyance—himself, his hellion of a sister, Felicity, and his lovely mother.

Normally he preferred the raucousness, the noise, the jests and impolite behavior his family hid behind closed doors. The way it drowned out his thoughts. But considering the purpose of this journey, he’d spent the majority of the ride arguing with Felicity. So, he was glad for the brief reprieve.

This never-ending betrothal was going to be the death of him. He wished his brother had joined them—another ally and set of eyes to watch over their sister—but Fitzy struggled in social situations, and Felix did his best to avoid putting his brother in uncomfortable positions whenever possible.

He glanced out the window. Another bleak, grey day.

It’d been like this all summer—much colder than normal, frequent rain.

Hell, it was like it’d been a year without a summer.

Crop yields were horrifyingly low. The harvest for the Bentley estate would be a pitiful one this year.

But they’d still hold their harvest supper.

He needed to do something special this year to boost spirit. It’d been a bloody trying year.

Through a break in the cloud cover, the distant silhouette of Devonford Castle revealed itself, brooding atop a solitary butte.

He tugged at his cravat and winced. The blasted thing seemed to be tightening by the minute.

He wasn’t sure if it was caused by the poorly executed knot or the dread intensifying as the carriage rolled ever closer to the castle.

Dread because of him .

But all would be well. Felix was nothing if not in control. Of himself, of his life, of his family. He had learned much from his father, but nothing more so than one always protected their own kin. And that protection came from power, prestige, rapport.

An unbreakable sense of duty ran through Felix’s veins; one he knew had run through his father’s as well. For as far back as he could remember, all he’d ever wanted to do was emulate his father. There was no greater man than Frederick Jennings. Taken away from the Jennings family much too soon.

Felix had been only four-and-twenty when Father had passed.

He swallowed down the fist-sized lump attempting to lodge itself in his throat.

Felix had thrown himself into the role, buried his grief in looking after his family.

A family who had barely held it together as they’d mourned the loss of their patriarch.

Felix was determined to do his father proud, in all ways he was able to.

Every move he’d made since the day he’d assumed the title of Earl of Bentley had been calculated.

And because of his…defect, there was nothing more critical than holding on to the reputation he’d carefully cultivated.

It was the very purpose of this house party—the Duke and his son’s delay in setting a date for Felicity’s wedding was becoming increasingly tiresome.

Felix had let it go for far too long because he knew of Flick’s reticence regarding her impending nuptials with Lord Wessex.

But society was starting to whisper. And Felix would not allow his family to become fodder for gossip.

It was Felix’s responsibility to ensure his sister ended up a duchess, to fulfill his father’s aspiration for her.

Because it ensured her security and influence.

Which led straight back to the crux of it all. Protection.

A huff drifted over to him from the other side of the carriage.

Felix knew first-hand what kind of protection a formidable reputation ensured—he wouldn’t be here today if that weren’t the case. As Duchess of Devonford, his sister would never have to worry over her safety. No one in his family would ever fear for their welfare. He would allow nothing less.

Another huff, more exaggerated this time.

He narrowed his gaze on his sister. Felicity blinked innocent amber eyes at him. Then her gaze went heavenward, and she let out a huff that shook her entire body.

The imp.

“Did you perchance have something to say, Flick?” He tried to inflict a bit of light-hearted teasing in his use of her childhood nickname.

“Oh no. I’m perfectly well.”

He believed that…not one bit.

“If perfectly well equates to being forced to endure your rakehell of a fiancé for an entire house party where you are sure to stumble upon him shagging yet another random woman.”

And there it was.

Felix turned a pleading look on his mother, whose strawberry-blonde beauty was a soft contrast to his and Felicity’s fiery amber coloring.

It was exhausting having the same argument over and over.

Yes, Felix was overbearing and a boor and insufferable and whatever else Flick wanted to throw at him.

But it was his job to do what was best for his family, even if they didn’t like it.

Doing what was best, what duty required, wasn’t always… palatable. But that was life.

Mother reached over and took Felicity’s hand in her own.

“Darling, Lord Wessex is merely doing as all young men do. He is the heir to a dukedom. It is an unfortunate encumbrance that comes with men of his station. With age, he will grow less…promiscuous. I am sure once he marries you, things will change for the better.” She sent her daughter an encouraging smile.

One Felicity didn’t return. Her brows furrowed, and she stared back at Mother as though Mother had lost her wits. To be frank, Felix was more inclined to agree with Felicity in this case. But that was the way of their world. Men had mistresses. Women discreetly had lovers.

People of their station didn’t marry for love.

Everyone did their part. Fulfilled their duty.

Felix’s stomach seized. He would one day marry and do his duty.

Just as Felicity would marry and do hers.

His heart rate spiked, and the cloying panic that sometimes came over him threatened to break free.

One day. Not today. He let out a slow breath. Not today.

“I know you enjoy his company, Felicity dear,” Mother added. “I have seen the way you two laugh together. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“It’s the look he gives every woman, Mama.

He looks at me like he wants to bed me. There is nothing special about that.

” She let out a groan. “Perhaps I can sneak a tincture of dandelion into his whisky. He’ll be running for a chamber pot for the entire house party.

” She perked up. “Then he can’t bed anyone else. ”

Felix grimaced, having once been the unfortunate recipient of one of Flick’s dandelion tinctures himself.

Another reason she needed to be a duchess.

His sister was as wild as they came—mostly behind closed doors.

But Felix wouldn’t breathe easily until he knew she’d never get herself into trouble she couldn’t get out of, thanks to the protection of her title.

His mother’s lips twitched, the laugh lines around her mouth crinkling lightly. “Darling, think of the poor servants. It would be unkind for them to be put to such trouble.”

Mother turned to Felix, her blue eyes glimmering with amusement and sadness. Amused exasperation at antics that were quintessential Felicity. And also what those antics brought about. Memories of Father. That’s where the entire Jennings brood got their raucousness from.

Father had been…in a word, perfect. He was a child at heart, a lover of games, and competitive to a fault—hence the annual Jennings Christmastide ugly waistcoat contest. He had been quick with a jest and overflowing with affection.

Everything an aristocrat was decidedly not.

But only behind closed doors. He was a master at facade.

The world knew Frederick Jennings as formidable, a paragon of influence and refinement, the highly esteemed and always sought after Earl of Bentley.

But once their grand entry doors closed…he was simply Papa.

The vast majority of the population had this misconception that all aristocrats were the epitome of propriety at all times.

That they didn’t curse or jest or ever do anything outrageous.

But when it came down to it, they were people too.

And, honestly, they were more eccentric than most. Lord Byron snuck his pet bear into Trinity College, for Christ’s sake.

Well, actually, he enrolled it as a student.

So, really, Felicity was quite tame. At least that was what Felix told himself so he could sleep at night.

“Perhaps I can tempt the Kozington twins into a little scheme,” Felicity said thoughtfully, pulling Felix back to the present.

His eyes widened. The Kozington twins were trouble.

Their families shared neighboring estates, and the three Jennings siblings had run wild with the three Kozington brothers.

So, Felix was intimately familiar with what sort of trouble that duo could cause.

Dear Lord, he needed to put a stop to this.

“Lord Wessex will have no reason to look elsewhere once he is married to you.” He nudged his sister’s foot gently with his boot. “No one compares to you.”

Her face softened, but her smile remained brittle.

“This is what Papa wanted, Flick,” Felix said quietly.

Mother let out a shuddering breath, and Felix’s gaze slid to her watery one. She sent him a sad smile. “I wish he could be here to see it.” She turned to Felicity, squeezing Felicity’s hand. “To see you become the future Duchess of Devonford. Oh, he would be so proud. ”

Felicity’s brittle smile disintegrated, her features tightening. “Yes, well. Perhaps it would be an easier fate to accept if he were actually here to witness it,” she whispered.