Sarah Mallory - The Earl's Runaway Bride

Felicity said nothing as Lydia almost pulled her up the stairs and into her luxurious apartments. As soon as she was sure they were alone, Lydia leaned against the closed door and let out a long sigh.

‘Of all the unfortunate circumstances! When Rosthorne insisted upon coming with us I did not know where to look.’

‘That was quite apparent,’ replied Felicity, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘I have never seen you so flustered.’

Lydia shook her head wearily. ‘Oh, Fee, I cannot like this! Rosthorne is not a man I like to deceive. Will you not call an end to this charade?’

Felicity put back her hood. ‘I cannot, Lydia. You know I cannot.’ She turned away, her head bowed as she struggled with the strings of her cloak. Too much had happened that neither of them could forgive. She sighed. ‘I am dead to him. It is better that way.’

Lydia swung her around, saying fiercely, ‘No, it is not! You have not given him a chance to explain himself.’

‘There is nothing to explain. He was desperately in love with another woman.’ Felicity shook off her hands. ‘He has forgotten me. Let it be, Lydia, it is over.’

‘If you do not wish to tell him then there is an end to it. But I do not see how you can maintain this subterfuge. The earl is not a fool, he will recognise you eventually.’

Felicity sighed. ‘If I am very careful he need never know I am here.’ A sad little smile pulled at her mouth. ‘After all, there are plenty of pretty young ladies to distract him.’

‘Then you must go back to Souden. You would be safer there.’

‘But then who would look after you? A poor companion I would be if I deserted you now! No, I shall do my duty, Lydia, and accompany you whenever Sir James is not available. After all, I am not likely to see Lord Rosthorne so very often: Sir James will be at your side for most of the balls and concerts you will attend this summer and I may remain safely indoors.’

Lydia did not look completely satisfied with this answer but Felicity was adamant, and at length her friend shrugged.

‘Very well, if you are sure it is what you want,’ she said. ‘Ring the bell, Fee. We will take hot chocolate here in my room. I would like to change out of this gown and go and find Sir James, but Rosthorne may still be with him, and it would look very odd if my headache had disappeared so very quickly!’

An hour later Felicity made her way back to her own apartment. It was not yet midnight, but she felt very tired. The strain of being so close to Nathan had exhausted her, and yet as she lay in her bed thinking over the evening she realised she would not have missed seeing him for the world. It was not without pain, to be sure. He knew her only as Lady Souden’s companion, Miss Brown, and his indifference cut her deeply, but there was some comfort in watching him, in being near him. More comfort than she had felt for the past five years.

As the first grey light of dawn seeped into the master bedroom of Rosthorne House, Nathan threw back the bedcovers and sat up, rubbing his temples. Why, after all this time, should he dream of little Felicity Bourne?

He went to the window and pressed his forehead against the cool glass. The view from his bedroom was a pleasant one, for it overlooked the Green Park but this morning Nathan saw nothing; he was thinking of those hectic days in Corunna five years ago. He had been sent ashore by Sir David Baird to help with the delicate negotiations with the local Spanish junta , trying to persuade them to allow the British troops to disembark. It was slow, frustrating work and it took all his attention—until one day he had turned a corner and seen three men attacking a young woman. Felicity.

She had looked magnificent with her dark gold hair in disarray about her shoulders and her eyes flashing with anger. He summed up the situation in one glance and when they dared to lay hands on her, he intervened. It was a brief tussle and they soon retreated, leaving Nathan to receive his reward, a grateful look from those huge grey eyes.

‘So, madam, where may I escort you?’

‘I do not know. That is, I have no place to stay here in Corunna.’ She paused. ‘I—I need to go to Madrid. I have friends there.’

Nathan hesitated. With no effective government in Spain he would not advise anyone to set out for Madrid without an escort, especially such a fragile little thing as this.

‘After what has just happened perhaps it would not be wise for me to travel alone.’

Her quiet words touched a nerve deep inside him, awaking every chivalrous instinct. It was all he could do not to tell her she need never be alone again. His reaction surprised him and he took a small step away.

‘On no account must you travel out of the city,’ he said decisively.

She turned to him. ‘But what am I to do? I am homeless, penniless—’ she indicated her muddied pelisse ‘—and now I am not even presentable.’

‘Hookham Frere, the British Envoy, will be setting out for Madrid in the next few days,’ said Nathan. ‘I have no doubt that he would be happy for you to travel with his party. Will you allow me to escort you to him?’

The relief in her face was evident. ‘Thank you, yes, that would be very kind of you.’

Nathan gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He had little experience of dealing with delicately reared young ladies and this one unsettled him. The sooner he could pass her over to the relative safety of the diplomatic party the better. He held out his arm again and hesitantly she laid her gloved hand on his sleeve. He noted idly that her head barely reached his shoulder.

‘How comes it that you are separated from your friends, Miss Bourne?’

‘Oh, as to that I…’ Her words trailed off. He felt the weight of her on his arm.

‘Miss Bourne, are you ill?’

‘I beg your pardon, I—that is, I have not eaten for a few days…’

She was near to collapse. Nathan quickly revised his plans.

‘If you can walk a little further, I have lodgings near here in the Canton Grande. Allow me to take you there, and when you are fed and rested we will continue.’

A slight nod was the only answer he received. He put his arm around her and led her through the narrow streets to a neat house whose wide door and shuttered window sheltered beneath a mirador, an upper-floor balcony completely enclosed by glass panels. He saw his man sitting in the doorway, smoking his pipe.

‘Sam, run and fetch Señora Benitez!’

‘Now that I can’t do, Major,’ Sam replied slowly. ‘She’s gone to stay with ’er daughter for a couple o’days. She told you so herself, this morning, if you remember.’

‘Damnation, so she did.’

Felicity gave a little moan and collapsed against him. Swiftly he lifted her into his arms. She was surprisingly light, and fitted snugly against his heart. Something stirred within him.

‘And just what have we here, sir?’ asked Sam, jabbing his pipe at Felicity.

Nathan allowed himself a swift, wry smile. ‘A damsel in distress, Sam. Go ahead of me and open the door, man.’

‘You ain’t never going to put her in your room!’

‘Where the devil do you expect me to put her?’

‘Well, there’s always the nuns…’

‘No.’ Nathan’s arms tightened around her. He remembered the look in her eyes when she had turned to him. It was a mixture of trust and dependence and something more, a connection that he could not explain, but neither could he ignore it. ‘No,’ he said again. ‘I shall look after her.’

‘Well my love, you can be easy now,’ said Lydia at breakfast a few days later. ‘James and Rosthorne have gone off to Dover to meet the royal visitors and bring them back to London. The Prince is planning a royal procession through the town to St James’s Palace and James has hired rooms for us overlooking the route, so we will be able to watch the procession in comfort.’

Felicity received the news with mixed feelings. She should be relieved that there was no possibility of meeting Nathan for a while, instead she was disappointed.

‘Will Sir James and the earl be riding in the procession?’ She tried to sound indifferent but she blushed when she looked up and found Lydia smiling at her.

‘Yes they will. James tells me the Prince has insisted that Rosthorne should wear his dress uniform: he will look so dashing that I am sure all the ladies will be swooning over him.’

Felicity scowled into her coffee cup.

‘Let them swoon,’ she muttered. ‘I am sure I do not care!’

But when the day arrived Felicity could not deny a frisson of excitement as she and Lydia sat in the window of the hired room.

‘People have been gathering since dawn,’ remarked Lydia. ‘Everyone is eager to see the Emperor. They have even erected stands along the route, but I doubt that even they will have such a fine view as this.’

There was a sudden stir in the crowds below.

‘They are coming,’ declared Lydia, leaning towards the open window.

Felicity could hear the rattle of drums. A cheer went up as the cavalcade approached, a long column of bright colours and nodding plumes. Felicity watched, fascinated by the never-ending ranks of soldiers and dignitaries passing beneath her.

‘There’s Prinny!’ cried Lydia, pointing. ‘And that must be the Prussian King.’

Felicity looked down at the upright, soldierly figure in his topboots and white pantaloons. He looked very serious, but she could not help thinking that was much more regal than the portly Prince Regent. Lydia grabbed her arm.

‘Look, there’s James!’ She waved her handkerchief wildly at a group of riders following the royal party and was rewarded when Sir James looked up and raised his hat to her. ‘Oh, he is so handsome. And he looks so well on horseback, does he not?’

Felicity murmured a reply. She was searching the colourful columns, eager to catch a glimpse of Nathan. What had Sir James said about their escort duties? Nathan was to accompany the Emperor of Russia.

‘I have not yet seen the Tsar,’ she murmured, her eyes raking the crowds.

‘Perhaps he is gone another way.’ Lydia laughed. ‘I would not be surprised if his sister has told him to come direct to her at the Pulteney Hotel. James says she has taken a dislike to the Prince Regent!’

Felicity was aware of a searing disappointment and berated herself fiercely. For five long years she had resolutely tried to forget Nathan Carraway—now he was out of her sight for just a few days and she was pining for him! She stared out at the colourful cavalcade passing beneath the window and made a decision. She would speak to him. At the very next opportunity she would reveal herself to Nathan. She would watch his reaction carefully; if he wanted nothing to do with her then she would ask Lydia to send her back to Souden and she would do her best to make a life for herself without Nathan Carraway. But perhaps, just perhaps…She hugged herself, trying not to fan the tiny spark of hope that refused to be extinguished. Whatever was decided, surely it would be better than this half-life she was living at present? Beside her, Lydia gave a little tut of exasperation.

‘It does not look as if the Tsar is going to appear. How tiresome! But we shall discover the truth tonight.’ Lydia sighed. ‘Such a lot of new faces, and James will expect me to know them all, for he will be inviting them to our ball! Well, Fee, my dependence is upon you to remember them, so that you can prompt me if I forget their names!’

‘So, James, what happened? Where was the Tsar?’ Lydia drew her husband into her private sitting room. ‘It is no good telling me you have been ordered to dine at Carlton House; you are not leaving until you tell us everything. Is that not so, Felicity?’