Lady Lyte's Little Secret (16 page)

While Thorn built up the fire and set his clothes back in front of it to finish drying, Felicity retired behind the dressing screen, emerging a short while later in a nightdress with her dark hair plaited into a single braid.

She cast a wary look toward the bed, where Thorn lay with the covers drawn up to his chest.

He patted the empty space beside him on the mattress. “Come along, now. On my honor as a gentleman, I’ll leave you be.”

With halting steps, she approached, as though something propelled her forward, while something else tried to hold her back. This subdued silence wasn’t anything like her usual temperament. Though Thorn preferred it to a stormy clash of wills in which he was too weary to engage, Felicity’s sudden change of manner made him uneasy.

“Much as I might fancy enjoying your favors again, I’m afraid you have done me for the night, my dear.”
Thorn pulled a droll face at his own expense, which Felicity rewarded with the barest flicker of a smile as she climbed into bed with him.

Tugging the sheet and blankets up over her, he tried not to flinch when her icy feet came in contact with his leg. “All I’m good for at the moment is to wrap you in my arms until you’re warm again.”

A spark of her usual spirit returned. “Don’t under-value such a worthwhile service.”

She turned her back to him, but when Thorn nestled against her, she did not object or pull away.

By rights he should offer to continue their pursuit of Ivy and Oliver on his own, Thorn reflected as he rested his cheek against Felicity’s hair. Now that she’d got a taste of the discomforts of the journey, she might be inclined to accept. Especially since it now appeared likely they would have to chase the evasive young pair every mile of the way to Gretna Green.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Thorn could not bring himself to pursue the responsible course of action. The situation alarmed and exhilarated him in equal measure.

Felicity told herself not to enjoy the novelty of sleeping in Thorn’s arms, nor the comforting prospect of waking there. But it was no use.

She wasn’t accustomed to denying herself—quite the contrary. Perhaps money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could purchase independence and pleasure. Until recently, she’d been content with those.

“I suppose we ought to decide how to proceed next.” The mellow murmur of Thorn’s voice sounded in her ear, almost as close as her own thoughts.

The absurd but disturbing fancy that he might over-hear
all the bewildering questions abuzz in her mind sharpened Felicity’s tone. “I confess I’m at a loss. If I didn’t know better, I’d think those two young fools were deliberately leading us a goose chase.”

Perhaps she should simply wash her hands of Oliver Armitage. Leave him a bit of money, but otherwise cut him out of her life when she disappeared to raise her baby. The young man was no blood relation to her, after all.

Thorn heaved a sigh, followed by a low chuckle. “That will be my sister’s influence, no doubt. I can’t recall a time when Ivy ever did what anyone expected of her. By now your poor nephew is probably hoping someone will intervene to save him from having to marry the little minx. He seems the sort of young fellow who was probably a nurse maid’s dream—regular and methodical in his habits straight from the cradle.”

“You may be right.” Though Felicity tried to stifle it, a little smile, more brooding than amused, played at the corners of her mouth. “It’s difficult for me to picture Oliver as an infant. Even when I first met him, as a schoolboy, he seemed far too solemn and seasoned for his young years.”

Somehow the quiet, neglected child had slowly worked his way into one of the empty corners of her heart. A place that might have remained sealed against a jollier, more exuberant lad. She could not expel him now, no matter how much trouble he might cause her.

“I remember Percy bringing Oliver to Trentwell on the first school holiday after we were married.” She could picture it so vividly. “I could tell the poor little fellow was happy to be there, though he didn’t seem very well acquainted with the feeling. As if he liked it…but didn’t trust it.”

“So, young Armitage was…your husband’s nephew?”

Felicity nodded. “Percy’s sister’s child. His parents had sent the boy home to school from India. Then his father was killed in some beastly colonial war and his mother perished in a shipwreck on the voyage back to England.”

“I had no idea,” said Thorn. “Poor little chap. My brother-in-law, Merritt Temple, was in a similar case when I first met him at school. Little money. No family. I invited him to spend summers with us at Barnhill because he had nowhere else to go.”

The offhand mention of his kindness to an unfortunate schoolmate convinced Felicity that Thorn would have taken a more tangible interest in Oliver’s welfare than the boy’s uncle ever had.

“My mother-in-law didn’t pay Oliver much mind.” That was one of the first things that had drawn Felicity to the studious little fellow. “Some nonsense about Percy’s sister marrying against her wishes. I don’t think the boy’s father had any fortune to speak of.”

She shook her head. “There was no pleasing that woman. Oliver’s father didn’t have enough money to suit her, while I had too much…or perhaps the wrong sort.”

“It sounds as though she’d have got on well with my father.” Though Thorn tried to affect a tone of jest, Felicity detected an edge of indignation in his voice.

“Poor Merritt fell in love with my sister Rosemary during those summers at Barnhill. When my father paid enough heed to realize what was happening, he persuaded my sister to rebuff Merritt’s attentions, even though it was obvious she cared a great deal for him.”

Rosemary must be like her brother, Felicity decided, too dutiful to refuse.

Thorn’s tone sharpened. “At the time, I thought Father was only trying to look out for my sister’s future happiness. Later I began to suspect he had ambitions of her snaring a wealthy husband who could rescue him from his debts.”

“How did it all work out in the end?” Without thinking what she was doing, Felicity turned toward Thorn. “You called this fellow your brother-in-law.”

Thorn gathered her into his arms. “You might say Fate gave Merritt and Rosemary a second chance, which they were wise enough to seize…with a gentle nudge from Ivy and me.”

He smothered a yawn. “It has been one of the greatest joys of my life to see my sister so happy again.”

It couldn’t have been easy for Rosemary Greenwood and her husband to find their way back to one another, Felicity reflected as she savored the tender strength of Thorn’s embrace, and wondered why the happiness of two strangers mattered so much to her.

A proud young man who’d been spurned by his first love and a woman who must have doubted his willingness to forgive her. Yet they had come together again in a happy ending…or a happy beginning.

Could Fate be offering her and Thorn a similar opportunity? Felicity asked herself as the gentle slowing rhythm of his breath lulled her toward sleep.

If only she could have the luxury of a little time and distance to think things through, away from the sweet but confusing distraction of Thorn’s constant presence, she might sort out her feelings. A quiet week
or two at Trentwell, perhaps, once this business with Oliver and Ivy was settled….

“Trentwell, of course!” Felicity sat up so quickly, she almost bumped heads with Thorn.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” he struggled up from the pillows to put his arms around her.

“It’s all right,” she reassured him. “I just figured out where we can intercept Oliver and your sister—at Trentwell. I’m certain Oliver would not pass so close without stopping there.”

“Oh? Good.” Thorn didn’t sound quite as pleased as Felicity had expected. Perhaps he was still disoriented from being woken so abruptly. “Whereabouts is this Trentwell? How soon can we get there?”

“In Staffordshire.” Felicity reviewed past journeys between Bath and Trentwell in her mind. “If we get away from here early tomorrow and make good time, we might be able to reach there before nightfall.”

The prospect of eating at her own table and sleeping in her own bed appealed to Felicity vastly.

“We missed them at Newport and Gloucester.” Thorn fell back onto the pillows again. “Let us hope the third time’s a charm.”

“You know what they say, men—third time’s a charm.” Thorn strove to inject a note of hearty confidence into his voice as he looked from Felicity’s coachman to her young footman and back again, not long after sunrise.

“Indeed, sir.” Mr. Hixon exchanged a glance with Ned. “So we’ll press all the way through to Trentwell today, Mr. Greenwood?”

Forcing himself to ignore the signs of weariness on their faces, Thorn nodded. “Apart from stops to
change horses. We’ll contrive to get a bit of refreshment and whatnot then, as well.”

“I reckon we’d better get moving, then, sir.” Felicity’s driver jammed on his tricorn hat. “There’s many a long mile between here and Trentwell.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” Thorn replied. “I know what with checking all the inns for some sign of Mr. Armitage and my sister, neither of you got much sleep last night.”

Felicity emerged from the inn just then, looking distinctly the worse for her own sleepless night. At least the two of them might be able to catch a bit of rest in the well-upholstered, well-sprung carriage box.

“I’d be glad to spell you at the reins for a while this afternoon,” Thorn continued, to the coachman, “so you and Ned can close your eyes for a few minutes, at least.”

“It’s kind of you to offer and all, sir, but I couldn’t hear of it. I’ll manage well enough.”

“Nonsense, man.” Thorn ignored the look Felicity shot him. “We’ve all seen the unfortunate result of someone handling horses when they haven’t got their proper wits about them. I’m sure Lady Lyte doesn’t want her fine traveling coach landing in the middle of some river.”

“Well, of course not…” Felicity sputtered.

Thorn smiled. “There, you see? That’s practically an order from your mistress. You and Ned would be doing us a favor, taking our places in that stuffy box so we can get a bit of fresh air and sunshine.”

“I suppose, when you put it like that, sir…” The coachman climbed aboard while Ned held the carriage door open for Thorn and Felicity.

They were a good mile or more on the road to
Tewkesbury when she finally demanded, “What’s got into you? Offering to exchange places with my coachman so he can sleep in the middle of a journey? I never heard of anything so ridiculous!”

“What’s ridiculous about it? Those men saved my life, Felicity. Just because they’re servants doesn’t mean they deserve no consideration.”

Aware of his voice growing louder and his tone sharpening, Thorn asked himself why this mattered so much to him. It had to do with more than her footman and driver, he realized. It had to do with seeing people for who they were, rather than for what they owned or what they did for a living.

He looked her in the eye and made a conscious effort to speak more quietly. “When you can no longer afford to employ as many servants as you’ve been accustomed to, you soon learn to appreciate everything they’ve done for you. Would it do either of us any harm to drive your coach a few miles on a fine spring day?”

Another lady of fortune might have dismissed the notion out of hand, but Felicity seemed to heed what he was saying—perhaps even the deeper meaning beneath his words.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be all that different from tooling around Sydney Gardens in a phaeton.”

A beam of sunshine penetrated the carriage window just then, making the tiny dust motes sparkle like flecks of gold. A ray of hope shimmered in Thorn’s heart, as well, gilding the warm smile he lavished on Felicity.

“Capital! It’ll be a lark—you’ll see.”

One of her fine dark brows lofted in a dubious look. “Very well, then. On one condition.”

Now it was Thorn’s turn to raise his brows.

“I want to hear more about this Barnhill of yours,” said Felicity. “About growing up there with your sisters and the summers Merritt Temple came from school with you for holidays.”

“That’s not much of a condition.” Thorn settled back into the corner of his seat and stretched his legs out. “I’ll be glad to give you a full account, though I warn you I’m not half as diverting a storyteller as Ivy.”

“That’s not all.” Felicity made herself more comfortable in the seat opposite him, bringing her feet up to rest on his out-stretched riding boots. “I want to hear everything about your sister’s second courtship with her future husband. For instance, what sort of
little push
did you and Ivy give them toward the altar?”

“Very well, I’ll tell you all about that, too.”

Her request stirred a curious image in his mind. Before he had a chance to think better of it, Thorn heard himself say, “Shall I be like that sultan’s bride in the Arabian Nights—as long as I continue to amuse you with stories, you’ll keep me around?”

The look that came over her face made him wish he could take back the awkward jest that had strayed too close to his true feelings. Her eyes seemed to hold a conflicting mixture of apprehension and wistful longing. Or did he only fancy a reflection of his own confused emotions?

Before he could stammer out an apology, she confounded him with a flirtatious little smile. “You never know. Perhaps I might.”

His thoughts buzzed with the implications of what she’d just said, though perhaps he was fooling himself and she hadn’t meant anything beyond a little banter.

He was powerless to stop a daft grin spreading
across his face, just the same. “I’d better get started then, hadn’t I? Hmm, what can I tell you about Barnhill? It’s very old, but not very grand, I’m afraid. Greenwoods have lived there for time out of mind. There’s a good beech wood nearby, which is probably where the family came by our name.”

If he kept on at this rate, he’d put Felicity to sleep, rather than induce her to continue in his company. Thorn plundered his memory for any curiosities about Barnhill that might pique her interest.

“A brook cuts through the estate to empty into the Ouse. When Merritt came to stay with us in the summers, he and I used to fish and swim there. Once, Ivy dared Rosemary to spy on us. To see whether we wore our breeches in the water.”