Page 50 of A Damsel for the Wounded Earl
The game moved on, with another pair taking their turn, but Miranda kept her gaze fixed on Arthur and Felicity. They were whispering together now, entirely unaware of the game. She was saying something that made him bite back a chuckle, and they were sitting entirely too close together. As she watched, Arthur reached forward for his cup of tea at the same moment that Felicity did. Their knuckles brushed, and she could almost see the sudden spark running between them.
They flinched, glanced at each other, then blushed, each pulling back their hands, tea forgotten.
A moment later, they were whispering again, paying no attention to the game, until it was their turn again and Lucy was obliged to remind them.
Miranda kept a docile smile on her face, getting more and more angry by the minute.
Something must be done about this,she thought, clenching her jaw.Something must be done at once.
***
Felicity felt happier than she had in quite a while. The game of charades had been lively and entertaining. Lord Lanwood and she had won, and there had been so much laughter that her sides still ached.
And, of course, she’d been able to pair up with Arthur. They talked in low voices when the others were taking their turns, about everything and nothing. The fluttering in her chest was back.
The evening was over now, and most people were retiring to bed. Felicity was one of the last to leave the drawing room, resetting the charade cards and putting away the game. It was a job the servants could do, of course, but why give them extra work.
She was aware of somebody standing over her, and for one breathless minute, she thought it might be Arthur.
That would be highly inappropriate, of course, the two of them alone in a room together. Felicity turned, a half-smile on her face, which immediately dropped away.
“Oh, Miranda,” she said nervously. “I thought you’d gone up to bed.”
Miranda was smiling, but it didn’tseemlike a smile, more like she’d curved her lips into the appropriate position, and that was all.
“Arthur and you seemed very cosy during the game,” she said crisply, and at once Felicity knew what was going on.
She cleared her throat nervously. “Yes, it was enjoyable. If you’ll excuse me, Miranda, I…”
Faster than an invalid woman ought to be able to move, Miranda stepped in her path, still smiling coolly.
“I thought we could have a word, you and I,” she said. “I thought I had made it clear that Arthur – Lord Lanwood – and I are all but engaged. I should hate to see you make a fool of yourself, Felicity.”
Some of the anger Felicity had felt before, well pushed down over the past few weeks, came surging up her throat like bile, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
“I think perhaps you’re the one making a fool of yourself, Miranda.” She responded, tilting up her chin.
Miranda blinked. Then the moment of surprise was gone, and she was narrowing her eyes, taking a step closer.
“How dare you, Felicity? I thought we were friends.”
Felicity gave a bark of laughter. “No, you did not. You never thought of any such thing.Friends. Really. You’re no closer to an engagement with Lord Lanwood than before, and frankly, warning me away as if we are a pair of dogs growling over a bone is unbecoming. What, would you like us to stand before Lord Lanwood and insist he choose? Is that not beneath our dignity?”
“You have no idea of what you are speaking.”
“And neither do you.”
Miranda took another step forward, so that the two women were practically nose to nose. Felicity longed to back away but couldn’t allow herself to do that. It would be weakness, and Miranda would sense weakness like a bloodhound picking up a scent.
“So you intend to make a play for Lord Lanwood, then?” Miranda snarled. “MyArthur?”
Felicity wanted to laugh. If this was a scene in a novel, she’d roll her eyes and turn the page.
“This is not a game, Miranda. We’re talking about our futures, about a real, living man. I am notplayingfor anyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
She moved to step around Miranda but was stopped by a hard shove to her shoulder. Surprised, she staggered back a few steps, blinking.
“You pushed me,” she gasped, feeling oddly childish.
