Delilah’s eyebrow angled up right as the door to the drawing room opened.
“Ah! You are both still here.” Her mother breezed into the room. “Wasn’t that a lovely afternoon? I so enjoy Lady Eunice’s company. And it is good to see you interested in selecting a husband, Delilah. But do not think I didn’t notice your snide remarks. I will not stand for rude behavior.”
“Yes, mother,” Delilah said, the picture of submission though Felicity knew it killed her sister to say those words.
“Now, run along upstairs, and fix your hair. We do not want any stray curls for when your suitors come calling.” Her mother placed her hands on Delilah’s shoulders and ushered her to the door. “Not you, Felicity, my dear.”
Delilah shot Felicity an empathic look before stepping out and closing the door behind her. Her mother walked around to the tea cart and busied herself pouring another cup. Felicity, uncomfortable with the silence, shifted in her seat, smoothing her skirts once more.
“Is there something you wish to talk about, mother?”
“Yes, my dear,” she started, taking a seat across from Felicity, “I want to make something abundantly clear to you. You cannot afford to court a duke’s younger brother. It is your responsibility to marry well, someone of noble title, so that we all survive.”
“I understand, mother,” Felicity told her, trying to hide the disappointment she felt.
“I don’t think you do.” Her mother’s voice was stern. “Even asking about one could damage your reputation and ruin your chances with the other suitors who have shown interest in you. Do us all a favor and put the Chapman brother far from your mind. In fact, I do not wish to hear you speak of him again. We can afford no mistakes, no missteps. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, mother,” Felicity said the words even as dejection and frustration rushed through her. “I understand.”
“I am glad to hear it. Now, find something useful to do while we wait for callers. A little freshening up might be in order. No one wants a dreary and drab wife, right my dear?”
The brightness and cheeriness were back in her mother’s voice, but Felicity still heard the warning in her words — moping would not be allowed.
CHAPTER4
Mister Chapman,
I must admit I was not expecting your letter. I do not think anyone has ever gone to such lengths to apologize. I appreciate the efforts and the apology. You are forgiven. However, I must admit, I do not care for the way you spoke of yourself as the fault was not entirely yours. I fear I am rather sensitive about being the Diamond and the pressure to marry well that comes with the honor. Had I not been so touchy about the subject, the entire situation would have been avoided entirely. It was very rude of me to storm off the way I did, especially after all you did to ensure my wellbeing. Please forgive me for my behavior. It was not the way a lady should act.
I would also like to thank you for your compliments. Much like my familiarity with apologies, I am equally unaccustomed to such eloquent flattery. I hope you have only said (or written) to me things that you mean. Honesty is the highest compliment of all. I feel that to be trusted with someone’s inner thoughts and feelings is evidence of the value held within that friendship. It is hard to imagine that you found me quite so “lovely,” as you say, when I was on the verge of fainting. But if you say it is the truth, then I will do my best to believe you.
I feel it would be remiss of me if I did not comment on your criticism of your social skills. You say that you are inadequate at conversation, but I must tell you that even with your last few comments, our conversation was better than any other I have had this season. It was wonderful to be listened to. I look forward to the next opportunity we have to speak.
Your sensitive acquaintance,
Felicity Kent
* * *
When his butler had handed him a stack of letters yesterday, the last thing Benjamin expected was a response from Felicity. After she had left him on the veranda feeling very much the fool, Benjamin had watched for any opportunity to apologize. But she had spent almost every song dancing with someone, leaving him without the chance to approach her. He couldn’t give anything away by asking for a dance, so instead, he had left the ball and penned his letter to her the moment he had returned to his empty townhouse. He had sent it out the next morning fully expecting never to hear from the woman again. After the thoughtless things he said to her, he wouldn’t have blamed her.
Yet, she had replied. He had been flipping through the tray of letters as he sipped on his afternoon tea, almost choking on the hot brew when he saw her name on the top corner of an envelope. Even her handwriting was lovely. He must have read her words a dozen times before he heard his mother calling for him.
He had spent the rest of the day yesterday oscillating between the work in front of him and daydreaming about the woman who had so utterly captured his attention. He wasn’t sure what to do. His duties had him too busy to pursue a courtship, especially as his family’s news had not yet been made public. However, Elijah, his brother, had always mentioned how difficult it was to find a wife as they all only seemed interested in his title. Now that the title had been passed to Benjamin, perhaps he would have the same challenge. Courting Miss Felicity before news of his brother’s death was made public could allow him to forego the title conundrum.
As the new Duke of Ferndown, Benjamin was all but overrun with his new responsibilities. He couldn’t imagine adding to the chaos with a slew of girls vying for his attention. No one had ever expected him to one day take the title. Elijah had been the perfect heir. He had been a responsible fellow, stern and studious on most occasions, but he was known to tell a joke every now and again. Benjamin, on the other hand, had never taken life too seriously before his time in the military. He hardly recognized himself now. His years overseas and grief had changed him.
“I am not ready,” he had told his mother as the two stood over the freshly tilled earth that covered his brother’s casket. “I can’t do this. I wasn’t meant for this.”
She had only been able to shake her head as tears streamed down her cheeks, hidden by the black veil.
“Give me some time,” he pleaded, emotion thick in his voice. “Give me time to wrap my head around this, come up with a strategy.”
“You cannot hide behind strategy forever, Benjamin,” his mother had told him, her voice worn and tired.
For the last week, he had heard her crying in the townhouse late at night when she thought everyone else was asleep. Her wails were like gunshots, wounding him with every hoarse cry. A once vibrant and outgoing woman, the loss of her husband and son seemed to have stolen the color right out of her. The woman who had stared back at him as they stood in front of her son’s tomb was not the mother he had known.
“I do not need forever,” he tugged at the sleeve hem of his jacket, needing to do something with his hands. “I just need some time to get used to the idea of being the Duke. This was never supposed to be my role.” His voice broke as he said the words. He had been desperate to make her see reason. “I cannot go from burying my brother to attending balls and hosting dinners like it was nothing. Hell, I don’t even know how to address half of them.”