Page 18 of Lady Ferocity (A Series of Senseless Complications #1)

F elicity seethed with fury. Mr. Percy Stratton had been playing a game. A game at her expense. A game with her heart.

Lord Leland was making pleasantries and Felicity was doing her best to hold up her end of the conversation even though she wished to throw a gravy boat at him. None of it was Lord Leland’s fault though. The fault lay in the empty chair at the other side of the table. She wanted to smash it to bits.

Her terrible temper, the temper she’d worked hard to master, had made a raging reappearance.

As if to add salt to an already blistering wound, she heard Mr. Stratton’s voice suddenly ring out. “Marchioness, everyone,” he said, “my deepest apologies for my tardiness, I met with some trouble on the road. Marchioness, you have every right to throw me out on my ear.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Stratton,” the marchioness said goodhumoredly. “I was quite sure you would turn up. As you can see, I’ve left your place open.”

“You are everything gracious, Marchioness.”

Though Mr. Stratton’s arrival had taken everyone’s attention, including Lord Leland’s, Felicity kept herself turned toward the lord and tried to ignore how much she wished to throw the nearest salt cellar at Mr. Stratton’s head. Or maybe set his hair on fire with a candle and call it a ruse.

Lord Leland turned his attention back to her. “Well now, I suppose Stratton was bound to be forgiven for his late arrival. He’s known for his particular manners.”

“Is he?” Felicity asked. What she would really like to ask was how mannerly it was to trick a lady into thinking he was interested, all in an effort to avoid being “chained.”

“Yes, I do think so,” Lord Leland said, looking at her quizzically. “It is unlikely to happen again.”

“So many things will not happen again,” Felicity said quietly.

“Lady Felicity, are you quite well?” Lord Leland asked.

“Very well, Lord Leland,” she said, forcing a smile. “I am just taking in an education about Town—it is my first season, after all.”

“Oh, I see,” Lord Leland said, looking confused.

Felicity realized she should have taken in that education before she’d set foot in London. Mrs. Right, who could be so counted on for truth and wisdom, had straight out told her that the gentlemen of the town were all feckless. Why had she not taken that in, so that she would not have herself been taken in?

She realized that she’d been very na?ve, and that understanding made her even more furious.

When it was time to turn back to Mr. Wiles, she could not help but notice Mr. Stratton attempting to catch her eye and smiling as he did so. He would go on with it, as if she knew nothing! As if she were just a convenient rube to be used for his own purposes.

“Um, so,” Mr. Wiles said, “Stratton has turned up after all. That’s jolly, is it not?”

“Is it?” Felicity said, her voice full of ice.

Mr. Wiles looked as if he would faint, and she was glad of it.

*

Percy had finally arrived to the marchioness’ house and had a consultation with the lady’s stablemaster. That good fellow had sent off for a farrier to reshoe his horse. Then Percy had gone in and made his apologies, which the lady graciously accepted.

He thought one of the benefits of doing his level best to never inconvenience a hostess was that on the odd occasion that he did so, his crime was readily forgiven. All those dinners where he’d entertained somebody’s drab miss, all those balls he’d made sure no lady sat out, all those house parties where he’d played right hand to the hostess, had added to his credit to be excused.

While the marchioness seemed cheerful to see him, he could not work out if Lady Felicity was cheered to see him. It seemed she was positively refusing to meet his eye. As he talked to his dinner partners, he very regularly glanced over but she would not look at him.

Perhaps she was annoyed that he’d not been in time to take her in?

No, that did not sound like Lady Felicity. She was not some tightlipped miss who was affronted so easily.

What was more concerning, was that Wiles was meeting his eye every time he glanced over. What was the fellow attempting to communicate with all those wide eyes, raised brows, and head shakes in Lady Felicity’s direction?

He would not untangle any of it at table, but the dinner would not go on forever. Afterward, there would be that tedious period of time over port with the men and then they would enter the drawing room. Then, he would be able to take the lady’s temperature. If she was put out about something, he must find it out and smooth it over.

In the meantime, both his dinner partners carried on the very usual sort of conversation to be had. Percy usually did not mind, but he discovered that just now it bored him a bit.

That was, until Miss Feldstone glanced toward the head of the table and said, “One hears the most alarming things about the Duke of Pelham.”

“Does one?” Percy asked.

“Indeed. As a usual thing, one hears something and thinks perhaps it has been exaggerated. The tales that go round regarding the duke, though, are so outrageous that one thinks they must be true. One of the tales has been told by his own sister!”

“Ah, the cyprian party,” Percy said.

Miss Feldstone made a great show of becoming flustered at the mention of a cyprian’s gathering, as if she did not know such things existed. Percy was near certain she did know. He could not fathom why young ladies pretended they did not know a thing.

“Naturally,” Miss Feldstone said, “I cannot know what those parties are, but I understand they are of low moral character.”

“That is one way to describe it.”

“A father of seven daughters, willing to leave his own sister among such debased women—well, one wonders what sort of standards he has instilled in them, if any at all.”

Percy was beginning to feel some animosity toward Miss Feldstone, which was not a usual thing for him. He was very much in the habit of ignoring what did not suit him with all good humor. Unlike his father, he never saw the point in arguing with all the world. He would like to argue now, though.

“Do you imply that Lady Felicity has some deficiencies in that area?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone pleasant.

“Well, one does hear things. I understand there was some sort of attack while she danced at Almack’s? And that she let Lady Albright’s tiger from its cage.”

“She simply had a sneezing attack at Almack’s, which was entirely justified. Lady Felicity is sensitive to strong scents, particularly of flowers. Apparently, some other lady had unnecessarily doused herself in rose water. As for the tiger, again, it was a sneeze and she fell onto the latch, which ought to have had a padlock on it, but did not.”

Miss Feldstone sniffed. “It seems sneezing does cause the lady much trouble, and cause trouble for you too. As it was you that ended injured from that tiger.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Percy lied. Of course, it had been a pile of trouble. His back still stung from it and he’d been sleeping on his stomach ever since it occurred. He found the end of the day particularly problematic, as his shirt had been rubbing against the scabbed-over wounds all day.

“I see,” Miss Feldstone said. “I suppose the Nicolets will grow on us all. They had better, I suppose, as there are six more of them behind Lady Felicity.”

Percy did not answer. Though, it was perhaps the only true thing Miss Feldstone had said. The Nicolets did grow on a person.

The duke, for all his eccentricities, had raised some very fine daughters. Unusual daughters, to be sure. But then, Percy had come to the conclusion that usual daughters could be too usual for his taste. He’d railed against becoming chained to somebody’s usual daughter.

After the dessert course had been served for a suitable amount of time, the Marchioness of Glastonheld rose and said, “Gentlemen, Lord Jeffries will see to your port.” The ladies rose and the marchioness led them to the drawing room.

Percy did his best to catch Lady Felicity’s eye, but she was intent on catching her father’s eye. The Duke of Pelham, odd though he was, appeared very attuned to his daughter. He rose and said, “I will return in a moment, gentlemen—pour me a very large glass!”

He followed his daughter out of the room and Percy could just make out Lady Felicity and the duke talking in the hall before the dining room’s doors were closed again.

As the port went round, Wiles continued making his faces, Lord Jeffries went on his usual tirade about poachers, and Percy waited for the duke to return.

He never did return, though.

*

Felicity knew she could count on her father. As much as he claimed he wished them all out of the house, he was very astute in conjecturing over his daughters’ moods and tempers.

When she’d been younger and had far less control over her temper, he would note that she was reaching a boiling point and say, “Hold on, everyone, Lady Ferocity is set to make an appearance.”

Just now, she’d given him a very decided look when the marchioness rose to lead the ladies out. He’d not needed more than that—he would follow her out to discover what it was for. Another father might have noticed their daughter’s distress but feel constrained not to follow her out when he was meant to stay seated. Her father had no such compunction about breaking a rule when it seemed expedient.

In the hall, he looked at her quizzically. “I can see very well that Lady Ferocity is on the verge of turning up,” he said.

Felicity nodded but did not answer, as she was working very hard not to weep. The idea of weeping made her in even more of a temper. She should go mad if anyone were to see her eyes leaking.

“Right,” the duke said. “Wait here.”

The duke had a word with a footman nearby, who hurried off. Then her father went into the drawing room and came out again in under a minute.

“I’ve given the marchioness the bad news that you have a terrible headache. Then I gave her the good news that I will not be in the drawing room to harass my sister. I sent a footman to fetch our coachman. We will be off in a thrice. In the meantime, say nothing—I know you will end up throwing something if one tear falls from your eye.”

Her father really was so very good. If only people understood him as she and her sisters did. All they saw was the outrageousness of him, but he really did understand his daughters.

Soon enough, the front doors were opened and their carriage was ready for them. Another footman brought Felicity’s pelisse. They hurried out to the chill night and the duke helped her inside.

The doors were shut, the carriage rolled forward, and the duke said, “Well? What’s set you off?”

“Papa, you will not believe what I have discovered by way of Mr. Wiles. Mr. Stratton has all along just been playing a game. He claimed he wished to help me make Lord Rustmont wild with envy simply because he enjoyed a ruse. You know, when I wished to make Lord Rustmont jealous, which I do not at the present time.”

“What is the game that young rogue is playing, exactly?”

“He wished his parents to believe that he was set on me, and that I was set on Mr. Wiles. He wished them to view it as a hopeless case. And guess why?”

“Because young men are idiots?”

“Because, as it seems he says quite often, he will not be chained!”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed, Mr. Wiles let it all out at dinner, thinking I already knew it. Mr. Wiles did not know that perhaps my opinions of Mr. Stratton had changed. Significantly. Do you see what’s happened to me, Papa? I am the victim of disappointed hopes.”

“I’ll wring his neck like a chicken,” the duke said.

Felicity was a bit startled by that idea, as it could only lead the duke into a prison. A person of her father’s rank could get away with quite a lot, but murder was not one of those things. As well, as much as she would like to hurl all manner of things at Mr. Stratton’s head just now, she did not wish for his neck to be wrung. It was rather too permanent.

“Please do not do anything so foolhardy,” she counseled.

The duke shrugged. “Perhaps you are right. The law is never set up the way one needs it to be! If there were any justice, I might wring his neck with impunity!”

“Now, Papa, I know you have been so set on getting us all out of the house, but I think I cannot wed just now. It is not possible for me, at least not this season.”

“Well, my girl, I’ve put up with you for eighteen years, I suppose nineteen won’t do me in. For now, we will go home and you will have the comfort of that horde of hooligans you call sisters.”

“And Mrs. Right, too,” Felicity said.

“Ah yes, is there anything Mrs. Right cannot fix? I suppose a broken heart will be no different.”

Felicity did not answer. She did not wish to own that she was just now in possession of a broken heart. Though, she was just now in possession of a broken heart.

It really did make her wish to throw something.

*

Percy had kept an eye on the doors, all the while toe-tapping under the table, but the duke had never returned to the dining room.

Lady Felicity had met the duke in the hall and then he’d not come back.

Was the lady ill? Or was it just Wiles who was ill? That fellow kept staring and staring at him with wide eyes like Percy was a specter suddenly spotted on a dark and forested lane.

Finally, Lord Jeffries came to the thrilling conclusion of his tale of an old reprobate in his neighborhood who was forever poaching on his land but could never be caught red-handed. Joe Candle was his name, and Joe Candle still was not caught.

Every gentleman at table refused a second glass of port, as they all knew it would just lead to a second poaching story from Lord Jeffries. Joe Candle would probably be surprised to know how boring he could make a meeting over port.

This was the sort of moment when the Duke of Pelham’s attendance would come in very handy. The duke would not have allowed Jeffries to get two minutes into that story without interrupting him with a joke.

Jeffries rose. “I suppose we’d best go in, then,” he said.

Percy leapt from his chair and it clattered and nearly fell over. Was Lady Felicity in the drawing room or not? Had she been taken ill and gone home? Had she been perfectly well and the duke just decided he preferred the company in the drawing room?

It was not out of the realm of possibilities to think it—if the duke preferred to break with convention and be elsewhere, he would not think twice about it.

It was something to hope for anyway.

As he made his way out, Wiles hurried behind him and said, “Make your way to the back of the drawing room. There is an alcove back there with a bookcase. We will pull out books and pretend to be engrossed.”

Percy stared at his friend. Why had Wiles transformed himself into a spy intent on scheduling clandestine meetings in the back of the drawing room?

He began to get a very troubling feeling. Lady Felicity had dined with Wiles. Had he said something about the ruse? Percy had been sure Magnon would have encountered him this afternoon and informed him of the new lay of the land.

But even if Magnon had not seen Wiles, surely Wiles would not have approached the subject and given the game away? Not even if he did not know there was no longer a game to give away.

Nevertheless, he did as he was bid, searching for Lady Felicity or the duke as he made his way to the back of the room. Both were absent.

She had gone.

He avoided the marchioness’ eye, as he was all but certain she would pull him into a game of whist. He did not care for it very much, but he was rather good and so was sought after more than he would like.

Percy reached the alcove of the drawing room, took a book and opened it. “Here I am, pretending to be engrossed by a book I do not even know the title of. What is wrong with you? What has gone on?” he asked Wiles.

Wiles flipped pages of a book and he did very much look as if he were reading. Reading intently, as a matter of fact.

“Whatever it is,” Percy said, “you will not find your words in there, but only in your mind. Out with it.”

Wiles let out a plaintive sigh. “The unfortunate thing is, Lady Felicity tricked me into believing that you’d told her all about the ruse.”

Percy could feel the blood draining from his face, as if it did not wish to be in the vicinity of what his ears had just heard. “How, pray, did the lady trick you?” he asked.

“She pretended. She pretended she knew all about it. I guess it started with her asking me how long we’d known each other, and then I mentioned our old set at Eton, but now it was only me, you, and Magnon.”

Wiles paused and laughed a little, though Percy failed to see the amusement in anything that had been said so far.

“She thought the others died, you see,” Wiles said. “So then I told her no, they did not die, they just got married… and that somehow leapt to chains and how you would not be chained down. Hard to say how it happened, really.”

Percy had a great urge to hit Wiles over the head with the book in his hand.

“Now,” Wiles continued, “when you reflect on it, I think you’ll see that my slip was actually a good thing. I’ve saved you some trouble, my friend.”

“You’ve saved me trouble? How have you worked that out?” Percy asked, incredulous.

“Because it seemed to me that Lady Felicity was not as pretending about you as she had been in the beginning. I think she’d started to get ideas, you see?”

“Yes, I do see,” Percy said tightly. “And here’s the problem—I’ve started to get ideas too.”

“Ideas? You? But you said you would not be chained… Many times and very firmly, actually.”

“I know what I said many times and very firmly,” Percy said. “I merely changed my mind. Firmly.”

Wiles tapped his chin. “I did not know, you should have told me. Well, how about you tell her I was lying? I made the whole thing up because I was jealous. Or I made the whole thing up because I am unreliable and a terrible fibber. Just say I made it up. Yes, that would do very well, I think.”

“It would not do very well at all because Lady Felicity is not an idiot. My god, what will she tell her father?”

Wiles did pale at that idea. “Oh no, what will he do about it is the better question? You might want to take yourself off somewhere. Rustmont went to Dorset to look in on an old aunt—you could go there too and see how she gets on.”

Percy ignored that rather ridiculous suggestion. He was going nowhere. He had to fix this unfortunate turn of events.

He had no idea how, just this moment, but he would fix it. Lady Felicity would attend the Jameson’s rout on the morrow, he would fix it then. If only he could send flowers in the meantime, but he could not. She was put out enough without being thrown into a sneezing fit.

Percy had begun to wonder if there were types of flowers that did not make one sneeze. Roses were out, but perhaps there were other choices? He would have to look into it.

“Mr. Stratton,” the marchioness called, “I insist you put that book down and pair at whist with Miss Feldstone.”

Percy slapped a smile on his face and nodded. Though, it was the very last thing he’d like to do.