Page 6 of One Night to Remember
Of course she missed that.
For a moment, what she wanted most was not to blend in with the other ladies, but to challenge Silas Wiltchurch to a curricle race in front of all and sundry. She could beat a slug like him blindfolded.
But she would never have the chance.
“Snare your big fish yet?” Diana asked, meaning Lord Raymore.
“Next set,” Felicity murmured back. “God willing.”
She was grateful down to her bones for every advantage she possessed, and she knew what she had to do to keep it.
Was she scared of poverty?Terrified. She’d been frightened and miserable every day of her childhood and would never risk her offspring experiencing such a fate.
But marrying the marquess was far more than a way to ensure her personal security, or even her children’s futures. Felicity did not wantanychild to go through the hell she and her brother had. It wasn’t living. It was barely surviving. And even so, others hadn’t been so lucky.
Marrying well wasn’t just for her. It was for everyone who didn’t have a way out. The better Felicity was set up, the more she could help others.Thatwas worth any sacrifice.
The first act she intended to take as Lady Raymore was to sponsor opportunities and housing for homeless or impoverished children like she and her brother once were. Cole donated handsomely, but he was one person. Felicity and her husband would be two more. Hester Donnell had agreed to support Felicity’s future foundation, and spread the word to her friends as well. With luck and hard work, Felicity and her powerful husband could start a movement.
It might be impossible to saveallthe children, but she would bloody well die trying.
Even if it meant putting up with unconscionable self-important prigs like Silas Wiltchurch.
“Thank God,” Diana muttered when Wiltchurch at last flounced away. “I got tired of not throttling him.”
“Agreed,” Felicity said with feeling, then turned to her brother. “When’s the big race?”
“Never,” Diana interrupted before Cole could reply. “I don’t trust Wiltchurch as far as I can throw him, and believe me, I’d very much like to throw him. Let him race other madmen. I want you to stay in one piece.”
“I already gave my word as a gentleman,” Cole protested. “Last night at the Wicked Duke, I was boasting about the curricle that a certain master mechanic has been conditioning for me—”
“You’re welcome,” Felicity murmured.
“—and the next thing I knew, six of us were scheduled for a curricle race at dawn, two weeks from Saturday.”
“It’s like you can’t hear me,” Diana said. “Allow me to summarize. The key word was ‘No.’”
“I hear you,” Cole assured her. “And I have the perfect solution. Mycarriageis obliged to present itself at Hyde Park on the appointed hour, butIam not required to be the man at the reins. The Curricle King does this sort of thing all the time. I’m certain he’ll be delighted to thrash Silas Wiltchurch yet again.”
Felicity’s heart skipped. The “Curricle King” was Giles Langford.
Talented and clever, reckless and dangerous, Langford was a notorious whip and a god among coach smiths. There were rumors that women with dampened bodices crowded Hyde Park at dawn to glimpse the handsome daredevil winning another race, only to swoon at the mere sight of him.
Not proper ladies, of course. Much as she wished to, Felicity had never laid eyes on the Curricle King. Nonetheless, his reputation spoke for itself.
“Langford could win with one hand behind his back,” she agreed in satisfaction. “With him as your driver and me as your—”
“I believe this is my dance?” came a bemused voice from just behind her.
Felicity whirled around to see Lord Raymore patiently waiting with one arm extended… and the rest of the dance floor already filled with new couples.
“Of course,” she stammered.
Her face heated as she took his arm. Had she really almost saidwith me as your mechanicout loud in the middle of a ballroom? Good God. She had to do better than that.
She took a deep, calming breath as Raymore led her to join the others for the first waltz of the evening. This Season might be her last opportunity. She had to do everything right.
“Thank you for this dance,” she murmured.
