Page 80 of Felicity Cabot Sells Her Soul

And tonight the dinner table would be so much emptier without her. The house would be so much quieter. She’d grown accustomed to Grace’s particular brand of chaos and devilry. To the maddening questions and the elbows on the table and the screeches of excitement and glee. To the constant chatter and the tell-tale sound of her sprinting from one area of the house to another.

“Oh, don’t cry,” Grace pleaded as Felicity felt tears pricking at her eyes once again, and she rushed across the marble floor to fling her arms around Felicity’s waist. “I promise, I will behave very poorly and have myself sent to you for a lecture every day.”

Felicity choked on a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t you dare,” she said. “I should hate to have to take you to task.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You love a good lecture,” Grace accused.

Ian cleared his throat in a transparent effort to head off another quarrel before it could begin. “Ladies,” he said. “The carriage is packed. We really must be going.”

Felicity lifted her head. “We?”

“Of course,we. I’m hardly inclined to give you two the opportunity to murder one another in the carriage, absent my supervision,” he said. “Come, then. We’re late enough as it is.”

“I suppose so,” Felicity sighed. “Grace, you may—Grace!” Too late; Grace had danced away with an impish giggle, darting for the door. “Good lord,” Felicity said in exasperation, “She really is going to be sent to me every day.”

“Quite possibly,” Ian admitted as he headed for the door himself. “Perhaps it won’t be all too bad. You could take tea.”

“That would be blatant favoritism,” Felicity said dryly as she followed along behind him.

“What are sisters for, if not to be favorites? Besides, you were always Nellie’s favorite. Why shouldn’t Grace be yours?”

“To be honest, I’m a little afraid that Grace will become Nellie’s favorite, too,” Felicity said. “And only God knows what sort of mischief she’ll get into, then.”

Ian chuckled to himself as he crossed the threshold. “It’s impossible to say,” he said. “But I’m certain we’ll find out.”

Yes, she thought. Together, just as they did everything else. Felicity stepped out into the early morning sunlight, and breathed in the fresh, faintly salt-scented air. On the street the carriage waited, and within, Grace mashed her cheek against the window like an overexcited puppy, wiggling with eagerness. A few stray wisteria petals floated past, torn free from their vines by the breeze which drifted them lazily about.

For a moment the scene struck her as almost surreal. A sort of idyllic, wondrous thing she could not have conceived of only months ago, like a fairy story come to life. Somehow, despite herself, she had arrived at a place of utter peace and contentment. A place where every fragile dream she had once nurtured had come to life. A place where happiness wove around her, so real, so tangible it was very nearly a thing she could hold in her hand.

No—itwassomething she could hold in her hand.

It was there in the hand Ian stretched out to her, waiting for the clasp of her fingers in his. “We really will be late,” he said, with a cant of his head. There was the tiniest evidence of a smile lingering about the corners of his lips, as if he sensed, in some fashion, the fanciful bent of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly as she placed her hand in his, and stepped out into the light, into her dream come true.