Lady Lyte's Little Secret (15 page)

“The rotter!” Thorn’s indignant anger sounded so sincere.

How easy it would be to convince herself that her heart was safe in his keeping, because he was nothing like her late husband.

She’d been fooled before, Felicity reminded herself. “Oh, Percy was quite nice at first, taking my part against his mother. I did try very hard to be a good wife to him. Much harder than I’d ever tried at anything before.”

Her voice grew more and more quiet until she could scarcely hear herself above the soft crackle of the dying embers in the hearth. “It was no good, though, since I failed in a wife’s prime duty.”

No word, sound or movement betrayed Thorn’s reaction to what she’d said. Felicity sensed it just the same. If anyone could understand the shattering humiliation of failing in one’s duty, he would.

“My mother-in-law took such grim delight in being right about me. Until she came to realize what that would mean for her precious family.” More than anything, that had probably contributed to her rapid decline. Felicity had taken no satisfaction from it. “Percy didn’t take my part then.”

She shook her head slowly, acknowledging a deep regret. “If only I’d known…”

“Known what?”

The quiet, earnest question slapped her out of the fuzzy half dream into which she’d slipped.

Her insides felt like some strange manner of engine, with her hurtling heart agitating her stomach and
squeezing the air out of her lungs. Did she need any further proof that she could not trust herself around Thorn Greenwood?

His quiet sympathy seduced her wary spirit just as his tender caresses seduced her yearning body.

Part of her wanted to change the subject or kiss him cross-eyed again. Anything to rescue herself from the treacherous waters into which they’d drifted. But if she didn’t soon make a clean break from him, she might end up telling him about the baby. Then, knowing Thorn’s overdeveloped sense of duty, she’d never be able to rid herself of him.

“If only I’d known that widowhood is the most advantageous state for a lady of fortune.” She could not bring herself to look her lover in the face as she delivered this tart pronouncement. “She can still enjoy all the pleasures of marriage without losing her independence.”

Thorn flinched. Felicity did not have to see it to know.

She hardened her heart against the pity that would leave her vulnerable. He deserved a little sting, after all, for making her dredge up all those distressing memories and making her feel their forgotten pain all over again.

She braced herself for Thorn to sting back. It would give her a reason to peel herself off of him and go find out how her servants had fared in their mission. Once morning came and the two of them parted ways once and for all, perhaps fewer regrets would plague her. Not likely…but perhaps.

Instead, Thorn enfolded her with one arm, while his other hand passed over her hair in a comforting caress.

“Oh, dear heart,” he sighed. “No wonder you rebel against any bid to dictate your actions.”

His unexpected insight struck Felicity speechless. There was something exhilarating about being understood so well. Something frightening, too.

“No wonder you refuse to give up control in the smallest aspect of your life,” Thorn murmured. “Even if it meant undertaking an uncomfortable journey to recover your errant nephew, when I’d have willingly gone in your stead.”

Though she longed to surrender to his tender siege, Felicity could not. The man was too damned perceptive for his own good—or hers. What other secrets might he ferret out if he tried? And how could she be certain he would never use his dangerous knowledge of her vulnerabilities against her?

Thorn seemed too lost in his new realizations to recognize the shift in her emotions.

“No wonder you’ve been content with transient love affairs,” he whispered, as if thinking aloud, “rather than submit to the tyranny of a husband.”

“How dare you, Thorn Greenwood?” She struggled out of his arms, her eyes stinging furiously. “How dare you presume to judge me or pity me?”

“But, my dear, I didn’t mean…”

He looked so hurt and bewildered, it was everything Felicity could do to keep from hurling herself back into his stalwart arms in the absurd hope that he would fix everything that had gone wrong in her life. Another part resented him for tearing aside the rose-colored curtain of her self-delusions to expose all that was wrong with it.

“Oh, save your earnest speeches!” She grabbed her gown and stockings from where they lolled wantonly
around the bedpost. “
Transient love affairs
can be almost as tiresome as marriage when they carry on for too long. And lovers can be quite as tyrannical as husbands when they refuse to keep a permissible distance.”

“See here.” Thorn pulled himself up from the pillows. “I was only trying to say that I understand and that I care about you. Is that so wrong?”

Felicity dove behind a dressing screen in the far corner of the room.

“Did I ever ask to be understood?” she cried, more to stop Thorn from filling her ears with further simple, heartfelt declarations of his feelings than anything else.

“Did I ever ask…” An unuttered sob caught in her throat. “Did I ever ask you to care about me?”

Spying an ewer full of water in the washstand, she poured it into the basin. Perhaps the running water would drown out Thorn’s reply. It might well have, for she heard nothing more from the direction of the bed.

She wet a wash cloth in the cold water and began to scour the subtle musk of their lovemeking from her body. Despite the rosy glow of the dying fire, her skin took on a bluish-white cast as it rose in gooseflesh.

Felicity welcomed the bracing chill. Perhaps it would cool her delirious fever of desire and bring her to her proper senses.

As she reached for her gown, she glanced up to find Thorn standing beside the screen, naked as Adam. At the sight of his tall, lean frame, a hot blush seared through her body, undoing whatever good her cold scrubbing might have done.

Though her gaze was inclined to linger on his splen-did
body, Felicity forced it upward, half afraid, half eager to confront the furious outrage she expected to see on his face.

What she found instead she could not fathom. Was it calm, icy wrath? Mute anguish? Bitter disappointment? Or a little of all three, as well as something else that affected her far more than she wanted it to.

He did not shame her by gawking at her naked body. Instead he stared deep into her eyes, asking a wordless question she could not understand and seeking an answer Felicity knew she must not give him.

“I told you once before, we cannot choose who will care for us.” He didn’t sound angry…exactly. Just very certain. “I’m not asking anything of you, Felicity, and I will never take anything from you. But you cannot dictate to my heart…any more than I can.”

He had every right to rage at her, Felicity acknowledged as a bilious tide of shame rose within her. Every right to withdraw the priceless gift she must pretend to spurn. Everyone else in her life had turned away from her when she could not do or be what they wanted.

Why should Thorn Greenwood be any different?

Because he
was
different, whispered her heart. Because he did not give or show love easily. But once given, his affections would be as constant as the earth—fallow in some seasons, but always ready to bloom afresh.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to step into his arms and claim what he offered her.

Except, perhaps, to vomit her guts out.

The nausea that suddenly gripped Felicity made all her previous spells of illness seem like robust health by comparison. Not daring to speak, in case more than
words should spew out of her, she wriggled into her gown and pushed past Thorn.

Out the door of their chamber. Up the corridor and down a flight of stairs. Through a back door.

It was too dark outside for her to make out more than vague shapes and shadows, but Felicity knew she must be near the stables. The reek of horse muck slammed into her, and she began to retch, surge after bilious surge, until it seemed impossible there could be anything but a gaping void left inside her.

A void as empty as her life had been before Thorn Greenwood had begun to fill it in his quiet way.

Perhaps, thought Felicity, as she huddled shivering in the dark, she needed to reconsider her plans for the future—plans in which there had been no place for a man, least of all the father of her unborn child.

First, though, she must put some distance between them, so she could think things through clearly and come to a decision without any influence from others. There was so much at stake, after all. Not only her own well-being, but her child’s. She could not afford to have her judgment thrown awry by the squall of contradictory feelings Thorn set brewing within.

Nor could she risk his discovering about the baby and insisting he wed her out of duty. If anything could blight the constancy of his feelings for her, that would.

She deserved better. So did her child. So did Thorn.

For all their sakes, she must retrieve Oliver, then go into seclusion for a time to reflect and assess her choices. If, in the end, she resolved to gamble her heart on Thorn Greenwood, she would know where to find him.

Hearing soft, rapid footsteps approaching, she had
only enough time to scramble to her feet before Thorn barreled out the door.

“Felicity?” He clasped her tight and planted his feet wide to keep them both from falling. “What are you doing out here? Why did you run off like that?”

Quickly, before he smelled the sour scent of vomit, she pushed him back inside. “What are
you
doing out in these clothes? They’re still damp.”

He chuckled. “I thought it preferable to risk a chill than to court scandal by strolling the corridors naked.” His tone turned serious again. “Do come back and get warm. Dress yourself properly. I won’t make a nuisance of myself, I promise. I’ll vacate the room if that’s what you’d like.”

“Thorn, I—”

As she searched for words to justify her recent contrary behavior, Felicity heard more footsteps. Outside, this time and accompanied by a soft murmur of voices.

Voices she recognized.

“Mr. Hixon, Ned, is that you?” she inquired as the door swung open.

A startled oath. “Lord-a-mercy, ma’am, you gave me a turn,” whispered her driver. “Have you been waiting up for us? Here now, is that Mr. Greenwood on his feet again?”

Felicity countered his questions with a pressing one of her own. “Have you found Miss Greenwood and Mr. Armitage? Where are they lodging? We must go at once.”

After a disquieting hesitation, Mr. Hixon heaved a weary sigh, “We’ve been to every inn in Gloucester, ma’am.”

“Twice,” added Ned in a plaintive voice.

Her driver scarcely needed to add, “There’s no sign of them, ma’am.”

Felicity had already guessed.

Now what would she do?

Chapter Eleven

“T
hey aren’t here?” Felicity repeated in a dazed murmur. She swayed toward Thorn, who caught her around the waist and held her secure.

As a dutiful brother charged with protecting his sister from her own ill-considered impulses, Thorn knew he should be distressed by the news that Ivy and Oliver were nowhere in Gloucester.

Instead, as he stood in the dimly lit corridor of the inn, conferring in hushed tones with Felicity and her servants, Thorn struggled to mask his delight at the prospect of continuing their journey together. Once they recovered his sister and her nephew, Thorn knew Lady Lyte would disappear from his life as quickly and completely as she had entered it.

At the moment he couldn’t figure how to reconcile duty to his family with the untenable passion that had taken root in his heart. And if he did manage to un-twist that riddle, he questioned his ability to win Felicity for something more than a passing clandestine liaison. The only things he knew for certain were that he must try on both counts and that he must stick close to her if he hoped to succeed in either.

Felicity’s driver cleared his throat. Thorn sensed the man was about to deliver more bad news to his mistress.

“The last place we inquired, ma’am…”

“For the second time,” the young footman added, in case there should be any question of their diligence.

The driver continued as though he hadn’t noticed the interruption, “At the main posting inn, ma’am, one of the hostlers told us a lady and gentleman had arrived around suppertime and hired a fresh coach to replace one that was in a bad way.”

“Did this hostler say which way they were headed?” Felicity asked. Thorn could feel her shivering.

“No, ma’am, just that they went off again as soon as the coach was hitched. He said the young gentleman gave it a good looking over before they left.”

“Where can they have gone?” Felicity whispered to herself. “What will I do now?”

She needed him.

The notion swept through Thorn with a strange vital energy, driving chills, aches, fatigue and doubts before it. “We can’t do
anything
for a few hours. So let’s make certain we put that time to good use.”

He addressed Felicity’s servants, “Go catch a little sleep while you can, both of you. Thank you for your efforts tonight. You did well.”

The men hesitated, perhaps expecting their mistress to countermand his orders.

But she did not.

As the pair shuffled down the corridor toward the small room that had been hired for them, Thorn called softly, “And thank you for saving my life, today, with your bravery and quick action.”

“Glad we were on hand to help, sir.” The coachman lapsed into a deep yawn. “Good night, sir. Good night, ma’am.”

Felicity did not stir or speak as her servants’ footsteps retreated down the darkened corridor.

Once Thorn heard a door open and shut in the distance, he nudged her toward the stairs. “Come back to bed, now.”

“To sleep, this time,” he added, to forestall any protest. “And to lay our plans for tomorrow.”

Felicity made no reply, though perhaps she nodded. In any event, she did not resist when Thorn took off his coat and wrapped it around her. Without another word, they fumbled their way up the unlit stairs and back to their room.