Page 5 of One Night to Remember
The shy debutante was gazing up at the marquess with high color on the apples of her youthful cheeks, her hair resplendent in the style Felicity had crafted with her bare hands.
Wonderful.
Felicity set her unfinished sherry behind a potted plant. All was not lost, but she needed a clear mind when she danced with Lord Raymore if she wished to have any hope of impressing him as a better option than the blushing cherub currently in his arms.
Quickly, she circumnavigated the dance floor toward her brother and his wife, careful to not to stray too near to the dancers. The last thing Felicity needed was for Lord Raymore to catch sight of her alone and partnerless, and develop second thoughts about his own interest.
When she reached her brother and his wife, they were no longer alone.
Arrogant blowhard Silas Wiltchurch was bending Cole’s ear on some matter or another. Wiltchurch was the nephew of one of the patronesses of Almack’s. No matter how unbearable he might be, no one dared gainsay him if they wished to be barred for life. Wiltchurch never let anyone forget the danger of crossing him.
“Am I interrupting something important?” Felicity asked her sister-in-law in a low voice.
Diana rolled her eyes. “Racing is not important. Interrupt all you like.”
Felicity returned Diana’s smile, but her interest was piqued.Racingmight not be important to Diana, but it interested Felicity very much indeed. Particularly if the race in question involved mechanical conveyances. The only thing Felicity loved more than horses were carriages.
“What are we racing?” she asked lightly.
Before Cole could reply, Silas Wiltchurch let out a huff. “Youare not racing anything. Ladies do not race.Wemeans Colehaven and me, and a few othermen.”
Cole turned to Felicity as if Wiltchurch had not spoken. “Carriages. Curricles, specifically. You might be interested to know that—”
She shook her head slightly before he could continue.
Although she knew her brother would never say anything truly scandalous—like,I’ll be racing the carriage you modified for me—Silas Wiltchurch was right.
Even the most superficial interest in “manly matters” displayed on her part might be enough to dissuade a conservative older gentleman like Lord Raymore from considering her as a future bride. She could not take the risk.
Unfortunately, Wiltchurch had noticed Felicity’s little shake of the head.
“Ohhh,” he said with exaggerated impatience. “First you interrupt a conversation that has nothing to do with you to ask what it’s about, and then you attempt to silence us when your brother tries to answer your impertinent question.” He turned back to Cole. “It’s not your fault. Inferior female brains aren’t capable of comprehending anything more substantial than ostrich feathers and French lace.”
Cole looked like he was about to put his fist through Wiltchurch’s face.
“You’re so right.” Felicity infused her voice with cloying saccharine, hoping to diffuse the tension before she drew all the wrong sorts of attention. She gave her brother a pointed look. “Ladies rarely even enter a carriage without the aid of a gentleman. What could we possibly know about the art of racing one?”
“Precisely.” His pride restored, Wiltchurch turned his back to Felicity and resumed his conversation as if he had never noticed her arrival.
“Insufferable prig,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Diana grinned in solidarity. “He wouldn’t recognize sarcasm if it hit him.”
“I thoughtColewas going to hit him,” Felicity admitted.
“He was definitely going to hit him,” Diana assured her. “And I was going to let him.”
“My peacekeeping will haunt me to my dying day,” Felicity said with a sigh.
Diana’s eyes twinkled. “We both know which one of them owns the superior curricle… and why.”
The thought should have warmed Felicity’s heart. Diana’s inclusion into the family had doubled the number of people who knew Felicity’s secret.
Today, it just made her sad.
She wastiredof having to hide her mechanical capabilities. Tired of having to pretend she was too clueless to follow along, too “proper” to be part of the conversation.
Her brother didn’t miss the old days. Felicity... well, she didn’t miss the hunger pangs or the cold nights or the endless uncertainty, but the day that the more knowledgeable lads at the forge stopped seeing her as a worthless hanger-on and started treating her as an equal?
