Page 5

She pulled her hand from Mother’s grip and turned to look out the window.

Felicity had only been seventeen when Father had passed.

No one had taken it well, but ever since Father’s passing, Felix had noticed a shift in his sister.

More wild. More reckless. More daring. Like she was moments from tossing aside propriety, ripping off the facade they all wore out in society, and giving the world a big bloody fuck you.

He needed this wedding to happen. And soon.

His heart ached for her, because he understood, probably better than most, the feeling of being trapped.

Felix didn’t know what else to say. How to comfort her.

This was the life they were born into, but Felicity had dreams, unrealistic fantasies.

She wanted the fairy tale that was Mother and Father.

A love that knew no bounds, unbreakable.

What his sister didn’t know was—that love she aspired to? It was also a facade.

Mother and Father had loved each other, sure. But it was in the same way they loved their children. They were a loving family. But they both had romantic partners outside their marriage.

And as Father had reminded Felix time and time again, just as Felix would as well.

Friendship in marriage was the most important objective.

The carriage rolled to a stop inside the inner bailey of Devonford Castle.

The pressure around Felix’s neck increased tenfold.

Bloody hell. How had he managed to botch tying his cravat so badly?

It had been some time since he’d had to do it himself, but, hell, it was starting to feel eerily akin to a garrote instead of a neckcloth.

He needed to get to his chamber and remove the blasted thing.

Felix released a slow, methodical breath as he exited the carriage and led his family into the Devonford Castle’s entry where the Duke of Devonford awaited them. He paused before the Duke and bowed. “Your Grace.”

He glanced around the cavernous room, the ceilings spanning the entire height of the castle, a collection of mullioned-paned windows, weathered stone, tapestries, and granite flights of stairs adorning the space. There was something missing in the grand entry. Blatantly missing.

A certain ducal heir.

He glanced discreetly at his sister, who was also scanning the room. And coming to the same conclusion, if her white-knuckled grip on her skirts as she dipped a curtsy to the Duke was any indication. Lord Wessex hadn’t bothered being present to greet them.

“Lord Bentley. Lady Bentley. Lady Felicity. I hope you had pleasant travels,” the Duke said, his face a stony mask.

It was shocking how dissimilar the Duke and his son were—nothing alike except in looks.

The Duke barely spoke, was perfectly polite and above reproach, albeit a tad grim—Felix wasn’t certain he’d ever seen the man smile, if he were honest. But Lord Wessex…

the young man was too easy with a smile.

And while he also might be too free with his bed partners, at least he made Felicity laugh.

For all she complained, Felix knew she enjoyed Wessex’s company.

“We did.” Felix made a point of looking around the entry. “I confess myself surprised. I had thought Lord Wessex would also greet us upon our arrival.” His gaze fell back on the Duke, and he arched a brow. Certain indulgences might be tolerated, but outright discourtesy was another matter entirely.

The Duke’s mouth pulled tight. “Unfortunately, my son had some business in the village that has delayed him. But he will make his amends at dinner, I assure you.”

Felicity let out a delicate cough, her gaze demurely on the floor.

But Felix knew better. That cough covered what he was sure would have been an indelicate and highly sarcastic snort.

The Duke’s attention flew to Felicity. Lovely.

Felix prayed the man hadn’t picked up on any of Felicity’s impertinence.

Felix cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said brusquely. “I think I speak for us all when I say we are very much looking forward to getting settled.”

He needed to have a stern talking to with his sister. One that specifically made clear she was to be on her best behavior and that she most definitely was not to murder her fiancé. And he needed to get out of his bloody cravat.

“Of course,” the Duke said, his blue stare back on Felix. “And I received your missive regarding your manservant falling ill. My valet has already been informed he’ll be attending to you. Just ring if you require him.”

Felix’s lungs seized, and his body refused to take in air. But the polite smile he’d perfected spread across his face, concealing any unease. Somehow, he managed an even breath, and murmured his thanks.

It was only a sennight

A sennight being tortured with the presence of the most maddening and impudent man he’d ever come across.

A sennight being tortured with the presence of the man who had haunted his every fantasy since the moment he’d laid eyes on him two years ago.