From Wallflower to Countess by Janice Preston

Author:Janice Preston [Preston, Janice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Felicity awoke and stretched luxuriously, still enveloped in the afterglow of their lovemaking. If only Richard was asleep next to her. That wave of lust...it had swept him along too. It had been more than she had dared to wish for. Seized with an urge to see him, banishing the doubts that threatened to overrule her heart, she leapt out of bed and ran barefoot to the adjoining door. Sudden shyness caused her to open the door quietly, and only just wide enough to pop her head through.

Richard’s bedchamber was empty, the bed already made. She closed the door and rang for Yvette. Richard must be at breakfast. It was barely ten o’clock. Surely he would not have gone out already?

Barnes, the butler, materialized in the hall as Felicity walked downstairs.

‘Is his lordship at breakfast, Barnes?’

‘I do not believe his lordship has arisen yet, my lady.’

She fought to conceal her dismay. Had he not returned last night?

‘I make no doubt he was out late and is now catching up with his sleep,’ she said, lightly.

‘Indeed, my lady.’ Not by so much as a flicker did Barnes hint that he knew any different. ‘Breakfast is laid out in the back parlour, if you would care to follow me?’

Various dishes—tantalizing aromas scenting the air—were displayed on the sideboard. The table was set for two. Neither place setting had been disturbed.

‘There is no need to remain, Barnes. I will serve myself.’

Barnes bowed. ‘Very well, my lady.’

Had Richard gone straight from her bed to that of his mistress? Sweat prickled Felicity’s spine as she recalled asking him to stay. At least she hadn’t begged. Had she? She had been half-asleep: a dangerous state, for was that not the time the truth was most likely to be revealed? When the weary brain did not censor the words spoken? Was she developing feelings for Richard, despite her avowal to keep her heart safe?

She bit half-heartedly into a slice of toast and butter. It tasted of sawdust. She pushed her plate aside, and drank her chocolate, then shoved her chair back. That was enough soul-searching. She would not become a victim of love. By the time she had changed and was ready to go out, shops would be opening their doors for business. She would browse the linen drapers with Yvette and, later, she would visit Westfield with Dominic. It promised to be a busy day: precisely what she needed. There were far worthier causes on which to expend her energies than an errant husband.

In her bedchamber, Felicity contemplated her reflection in the pier glass between the windows. Mayhap she was no beauty, but Yvette had helped her to see she could look better. She fingered the curls that framed her face. Her hair was already glossier, with the use of the honey rinse Yvette had concocted. And her skin almost glowed, the rosewater-and-almond-oil lotion Yvette mixed proving more effective than the Bloom of Ninon de L’Enclos her mother swore by. If her husband preferred the bed of his mistress, she would not become embittered.

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