“Not so far.” He glanced at Sally’s face for some sign of what she was thinking. She appeared not the slightest bit angry he had kissed her. Did nothing he did affect her now? It was as if that kiss had not even happened. “The duke insists that a reckoning of my past service is in order.”
He did not feel it wise to confess to her that the Duke of Rutherford had quietly funded his rise through the ranks at this time. The duke had made sure he was not denied his promotion to the rank of captain six years ago, despite their aborted wedding and the admiral’s strenuous disagreement.
All the duke had asked in return for his support was half share of Felix’s portion of any prize he took. Felix had been successful and made himself a comfortable fortune and the duke an even richer man. He had given his agreement willingly and without coercion, though knowing he would never have another chance at command if he refused Rutherford’s lifeline.
The admiral, however, had insisted he stay far away from Sally, which made his summons here at this time inconceivable.
He had worked toward his own secret mission over the years though: to make Sally proud of him again and give him another chance one day.
That second chance was forever denied him.
The doorway to the mansion loomed. The duke waited, balanced on his canes.
“I guess I will have to answer all his questions to find out what I have done wrong.”
He took a deep breath. The only wrong he had ever done was touching Sally before they became man and wife. The best nights of his life were also the ones he regretted most. Sally’s innocence had been lost, along with his chances of ever deserving her. He could not change their past, but he could quietly disappear from Sally’s future.
Chapter Thirteen
As Sally sat down to tea after dinner that night, she fought back her embarrassment and kept her eyes on those seated closest to her. What a stupid mistake to have made—kissing Felix just to prove she felt nothing for him. Thankfully, Felix stood some distance away and at an angle that made it hard for them to see one another. She was grateful because she did not know what to do.
She had allowed Felix to kiss her without one word of complaint or protest of his presumption, purely on a whim. And she had enjoyed it far more than the kisses Ellicott had bestowed on her.
So much more.
During their brief kiss, her whole body had lit up with a surge of desire and an undeniable ache that she had had trouble controlling. Even now she was on edge because of that kiss and could not stop thinking of Felix’s whispered good-bye.
But that kiss had brought into sharp relief what she had with Ellicott.
A distinct lack of passion.
The realization was lowering. She was bound for bedlam if she did not sort herself out soon.
“Captain Hastings,” her mother called. “Do come and join us.”
Sally kept her eyes on her teacup as Felix excused himself from conversation with Lord Cameron, an earl, neighbor, and close friend. Marrying Ellicott was a sensible plan, a good match. She knew it to be true. But was that all there could be to their union—a meeting of great fortunes and family connections? She had hoped time and familiarity would remedy the lack of response with Ellicott, and yet six years apart from Felix had done nothing to dim her response to him.
The situation troubled her. She intended to be a good wife, and even though Ellicott expected her to take lovers when their interest in each other waned, she had never intended to. She should have been content enough with the life she had planned for—if only she had not kissed Felix Hastings again.
Eventually she lifted her chin. Felix had a pleasant smile on his lips as he bowed over her mother’s hand. At Mother’s urging, he took a place at Sally’s side on the chaise. Sally folded her hands in her lap and tried not to look at him or remember how much she had enjoyed being in his arms again.
He talked of her elder brother’s success against the French, of Laurence’s aptitude for command, and he was introduced to Laurence’s wife, Cecily. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said in a firm voice that tied her insides in knots.
“And you. My dearest husband thinks so highly of you,” Cecily insisted, primping a little under the captain’s gaze. “He is so fortunate to sail with so distinguished a captain.”
Cecily had no idea that Sally and Felix had almost married, so her praise was undoubtedly intended to make the sort of impression that helped her husband advance.
Felix accepted the compliment with a curt nod. “He is a fine officer.”
Her brother’s praise for Felix bordered on blind devotion. His letters home to his wife always mentioned the man in glowing terms, and she had endured each reading in stoic silence.
Cecily fluttered her lashes. “When might he return to shore next do you think?”
His jaw firmed a moment as his gaze shifted to stare at her grandfather, who sat across the room. “That I am afraid I cannot say.”
“I have not seen him since we married, and he writes so infrequently,” Cecily said to him.
Such a bald-faced lie. Sally had heard Cecily’s complaint many times before and knew how lucky the woman was. Sometimes as many as six letters arrived at once. Laurence was an exceptional correspondent.