Dangerous Joy (38 page)

Felicity wished she could. She wished she could tell Miles about the letter. She felt as tangled as a knotted rope. But if she told him, he'd be more on his guard. He might even lock her up day and night.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "I thought you'd like that picture."

"At the moment, I don't much care where Rupert Dunsmore is, as long as he doesn't have Kieran with him."

"Tomorrow," he said. "I'm sure we'll have news tomorrow."

She dropped her knife and fork onto her plate with a clatter. "And what will we do if there isn't news? Dear heaven, why did you have to drag me so far away? Even if I knew Kieran was in danger, it would take me days to get to him!" Frightened by her own outburst, Felicity covered her face with her hands. Beth came to put her arms around her.

Miles's voice was hard, however, when he said, "If I'd left you in Ireland, you'd have married Dunsmore. Neither you nor Kieran would be better for it."

Felicity regained control and uncovered her face. "I'd be near him."

"I understand your fears," Miles said gently—"But your son is safe, and we will have news-either a letter from my mother or Dunsmore turning up."

With enormous willpower. Felicity prevented herself from sharing a glance with Beth.

The horses were announced, and Miles rose with the other men, putting aside the paper. "Can I trust you to be here when I return, Felicity?"

Felicity picked up the paper to conceal her indecision. What if another message came, one that in some way forced her hand?

Beth squeezed her shoulder. "On a day like this, only mad Meltonians would step outside. I assure you, we are not going anywhere."

Felicity understood and almost wept with relief. If she stayed in the house, Rupert could never contact her. She looked up at Miles and even smiled. "Yes, I'll be here when you return."

He nodded and picked up Gardeen from by his feet, placing her in Felicity's lap. "Make sure she stays close, too."

"Why? Do you think she's in danger?"

"It's time for Dunsmore to turn up, and he seems to like hurting cats."

She stroked the sleepy cat. "That's because he's afraid of them."

"What a poor specimen he is."

She glanced up. "Do you think there is nothing to fear from cats?"

"Nothing more than a scratch or two."

"Ah, Miles, at times I wonder about you. But off you go to hunt the truly harmless fox."

As soon as the men were on their way, Felicity headed for the comfort of the piano and spent the next hour honing her skill with scales and exercises. Beth and Blanche came in and sat to read.

Felicity looked up, her fingers still running up and down the keyboard. "Isn't the library or drawing room more cozy?"

"Not particularly," said Beth. "And we're guarding you. If word is getting out to Toad Dunsmore, we don't want him to hear that you are free to do as you please. It might stir even his sluggish intelligence."

"He's not particularly stupid."

"I'm just being malicious. He is, of a surety, a toad."

"No," said Felicity, contemplatively rippling an arpeggio. "A weasel. He has a rather sharp nose and keeps his belly close to the ground. Toads are fine animals, after all. Very useful in the garden."

Beth laughed. "Surely weasels have their virtues, too. Be that as it may, we will call him the weasel. And for his twitching nose, we will appear to guard you."

"Thank you. It will doubtless be tedious."

"Only if you insist on playing scales all morning."

Felicity took the hint and moved into a Bach piece which still provided plenty of discipline for her fingers.

The room settled into calm, with only the occasional crack from the logs in the big fire to disturb the harmony. Inside, however, Felicity felt as calm as the volcano she'd been likened to.

Beth had been right when she'd said there was nothing outside the long windows to tempt anyone but an avid hunter, but it called to her anyway. She found herself looking down the windswept drive, expecting to see something or someone coming, probably Rupert with Kieran by his side.

As her fingers moved with discipline over the keyboard, her mind scrambled to imagine what the weasel might be doing and planning. Would he believe she was a prisoner, unable to obey his instructions? That should hold him in check for a while.

If he realized she was planning to thwart him, he would doubtless return to Ireland to secure his trump card, Kieran. Willpower couldn't make her believe Kilgoran impregnable.

She needed news from Lady Aideen.

She needed the proof of Rupert's fraud, perjury, and theft.

She needed action.

Miles promised a letter from Ireland tomorrow, but how soon could they expect to hear from Cheltenham? Not for a few more days at least.

They were going to be very long days...

Beth came over to lean on the piano. "Are you all right?"

"Of course. Why?"

"You've been playing the same piece for over half-an-hour, faster and faster. I'm amazed your fingers can manage."

At that point, Felicity's automatic working of the Bach Prelude collapsed into discord and she rested her hands on the keys. "I'm not good at waiting."

"You need distraction. Would you like to play billiards?"

`No!" But then Felicity regretted the exclamation for a number of reasons. "I can hardly play the game," she said. "Miles taught me a little at Clonnagh." Such images and sensations swamped her that she couldn't continue.

"Clearly a disturbing time," Beth said. "Well, then, we could play cards."

"No." Felicity rose and closed the piano. "Billiards is an excellent idea. Does Blanche play?"

"Too well. Don't let her set the stakes. Billiards, Blanche?"

The actress immediately looked up, bright-eyed. "Lovely idea. This novel is remarkably tedious. If people have a mind to preach, they should write sermons."

As she led the way to the billiard room, Beth said, "I told you to try Sense and Sensibility."

"It sounded so dull, but it can't be duller than Coelebs In Search Of A Wife. Did Beth warn you, Felicity, that I'm rather good at billiards?"

"She did. And not to lay wagers with you over it."

"Bother." As they entered the room, Blanche lit the lamps. "I was hoping to win your white rosebuds."

"Are you entitled to them?" Felicity asked with a grin.

Blanche winked. "I've not been entitled to white rosebuds since a child. The contrast is part of my allure." She took a cue, lined up the three balls, and neatly sent one red into a pocket. "I'm sure you can't be attached to those trimmings. They don't become you."

"They aren't supposed to. They're to warn off invaders. Aren't you afraid they'll work?"

"I can warn off invaders in any number of ways. And anyway, these days, I only have one, he's already aboard, and he's more than enough for any woman."

"I gather he wants to marry you."

"He's a mad romantic and thinks he can shape the world to suit his rosy vision."

"That seems to be a Roguish tendency."

"Don't discount it," said Beth, coming over with her own cue. "As a group they can command the evil power of rank and money."

"Speaking as a member of one of Ireland's oldest families," said Felicity, "and the owner of a ridiculously large fortune, I see nothing wrong with rank and money at all." She turned to Blanche. "Of course I'll stake those silly rosebuds. But what would you wager against them?"

Blanche straightened to consider it. "I have nothing that isn't white, and that isn't your color. I could stake my drake's feathers," she said hopefully.

"Done." Felicity turned to Beth. "Are you entering the contest? It can be winner take all. I think, judging from the stakes so far, it should be something you'd be rather glad to get rid of."

"Well, there is one of the kitchen maids," Beth said with a twinkle, "but I think we've made buying and selling people illegal. What about my amber-headed riding crop? I have little taste for riding. Of that sort, anyway," she added.

Felicity laughed, and despite Blanche's complaint that she'd never be seen with an amber-headed crop even if she rode a horse, they settled the stakes and progressed to the game. Beth proved to be an indifferent player, but Felicity and Blanche were closer matched. Felicity suspected Blanche was holding back a little, but she didn't mind. This was all serving to pass the time.

Since they hadn't set a limit to the contest, they just kept playing until hunger and thirst sent them in search of sustenance.

"My," said Beth as she poured tea and the others helped themselves to sandwiches, "there is an alarming amount of science in that game. Are we to continue? I think Felicity is just slightly ahead at this point."

Blanche faded gently backward into a languishing pose. "I am drained. I could not find the strength to lift the cue."

"You mean you want to be rid of those feathers."

Blanche opened her eyes enough to wink.

"Oh, very well," said Felicity. "I'll relieve you of them. If nothing else, Gardeen can hunt them." And she spent the rest of the afternoon piecing together a quite pretty aigrette for her hair. She went to the mirror to try the effect.

"My heavens," said Blanche, looking up from Sense and Sensibility. `However did you do that in so short a time?"

"Grandfather taught me to tie flies. I think the dark feathers sit well against my black hair-mysterious and devilish."

"Isn't it strange," said Beth, "how in nature the male is always more gorgeously plumed than the female. And yet we human females take those male weapons and use them in our own wars."

As Blanche helped fix the aigrette in her hair with pins, Felicity said, "Perhaps we need male weapons to fight the male."

"It's not always war, you know."

"Isn't it?" Felicity returned to the piano to play a dramatic, rebellious piece by Herr Beethoven.

When the men came home from an indifferent day's hunting, Miles noticed the aigrette and complimented her on it.

When she explained she had made it, his brows rose. "Another feminine skill. I'm not sure I can stand these changes."

"Very wise," she said. "Changes are not always for the better."

But a day was over without a message from the weasel.

The next morning, some of Felicity's tension was relieved by a letter from Kilgoran Castle.

Lucien, emptying the postbag, passed it to Miles, who glanced at it then offered it to Felicity.

She shook her head. "No. It's to you from your mother. But please, read it quickly."

He broke the seal and started to read. "Everything is fine. She's at the Castle, complaining about the earl's dictatorial ways... They clash like breaker and shore, you know, even though he's frail. Kieran and Mrs. Edey are established in the nursery wing with a dozen servants to obey their every whim..." He scanned down. "There's a note further on that Kilgoran has appointed a strong, healthy groom to be personal servant to the lad and go with him just about everywhere. It's all right."

Felicity realized she had her hands clasped painfully tight and relaxed them. "Thank heavens!"

And if Rupert were here, he'd had no time to change that happy state of affairs before leaving.

Her son was safe.

Then, though Felicity kept a bright smile on her face, her bubble of relief and delight abruptly burst.

She had promised herself that when she heard this happy news, she would tell Miles about the letter from Rupert. But how was she to do so without admitting she'd kept it secret for more than a day? That she hadn't trusted him and his friends?

She couldn't.

But she had to tell him. It was right to tell him. Shuddering at the thought of making her confession in public, Felicity decided to wait for a private moment.

But, of course, as soon as breakfast was over, the men headed out for another day's hunting?

so no private moment occurred. She could have made one-she had only to ask Miles to step aside for a moment-but she gave in to cowardly evasion. Perhaps, if she waited, she'd think of some way of avoiding a confession.

Heaven knows, Miles was sufficiently aware of her flaws without her throwing another one in his face.

Felicity spent another day indoors, "guarded` by Beth and Blanche, trying to convince herself that there was no need to tell Miles anything. Nothing had come of the message, after all.

Would Beth tell?

No.

So there really was no reason to say a word, even if she did feel horribly guilty and dishonorable. And the most wretched coward ever to walk the earth.

By the next day, she'd fretted herself almost sick over it.

The night before, even easygoing Miles had begun to worry about Rupert's non-appearance. Admitting the possibility that the weasel was stalking Kieran, he'd mentioned leaving for Ireland to make sure the boy was safe.

Beth had caught Felicity's eyes with a meaningful glance.