Regency Lady by Janice Preston

Author:Janice Preston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Historical
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter One

Late August 1811—Bath

‘Mama, I should like you to arrange a marriage for me.’

Felicity held her breath as she leant back against the solid strength of her mother’s sitting-room door. Lady Katherine Farlowe reclined upon a rose-coloured sofa, clad in a pale pink chiffon robe trimmed with swansdown. Her already huge blue eyes widened as she stared at her only surviving daughter.

‘Oh, my darling girl. I am so happy for you.’ Lady Katherine arose elegantly and wafted across the room to Felicity. ‘Who is the lucky man?’

Felicity braced herself as her mother enveloped her in a scented embrace. ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was muffled against her mother’s breast; the swansdown tickled her nose. ‘That is why I am asking you to arrange it.’

Lady Katherine released Felicity and stepped back, a frown creasing her soft white skin. ‘But...I do not understand. Why? What about love? Do you not want to be happy in your marriage?’

Felicity bit back her cynical riposte. Her mother was an incurable romantic. Felicity knew better. Love, particularly unrequited love, was agony. She had seen it with her sister. She had lived it with her mother—a woman who was adept at closing her eyes and her mind against all unpleasantness. No, she was determined to never feel anything for her husband other than friendship. She would not, like the other women in her family, fall victim to the heartache of unrequited love.

Besides, at four-and-twenty, and after having been on the marriage mart for nigh on six years, the chances of Felicity making a love match were close to zero. She could not recall any man showing her particular attention, despite being the daughter of an earl and possessing a respectable dowry. She had lived her life overshadowed by the beauty of her mother and of her older sister, Emma, before she died.

‘I would like my own household,’ she said, in reply to her mother’s incredulous questions, ‘and, eventually, children.’

She felt the heat building in her cheeks as she said the words. She had never admitted that dream out loud before, not even to Beanie, her old nursemaid, but at least her desire for children made this previously unthinkable decision more tolerable. She would wed—if her mother could find her someone suitable. Marriage had become the best of a poor set of options available to her.

‘Come and sit by me, Felicity.’

Mama was clearly overjoyed, despite the further proof of her daughter’s lack of feminine attributes. She had long despaired over Felicity’s sad lack of looks, of her inability to make the best of what she had and of her consistent refusal to pander to the mores of society and the expectations of a young woman by seeking a husband. As time had passed, and as Felicity had aged, Lady Katherine had expected less and less of her. And that had suited Felicity perfectly.

Until this past year.

Felicity banished all thought of her new stepfather, Mr Quentin Farlowe: the sole reason for this drastic step. She could never

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