Forsaking Hope (Fair Cyprians of London 2)

“Is it the lovely music that brings back memories, or the sight of your lovely betrothed?” she went on. Felix hadn’t seen his mother this happy in years.

Strangely, it was his mother who echoed his thought, but with respect to the woman he was to marry. “I haven’t seen Annabelle look this happy in years.” Lady Durham tapped him playfully on the chest with her fan. “You certainly took your time about it, my boy. Annabelle’s been expecting you to offer for her since she was presented, and that’s more than two years ago.” She gave him an incisive look. “For a while, I thought you must have lost your heart to someone else.”

Obviously noticing the grim set of Felix’s mouth, she added, “Please look happy about this, Felix. You know that I’d never force any marriage upon you if you were not fully committed, but nor have you been happy for a long time. You’ve known Annabelle her whole life and she’d do anything for you. I also happen to believe she will be good for you.”

Felix nodded, eyeing the golden-haired girl as she was led off the dance floor by another escort. “I’m sure she will.”

“As long as your heart is in this marriage, Felix.” Lady Durham sounded concerned. She sent another glance in Annabelle’s direction. “As long as you are not in love with someone else, Felix, for that would not be fair.”

Felix shook his head, turning suddenly, his voice full of the scorn he felt. “No need to fear on that score, Mother.”

Lady Durham put her hand on his coat sleeve as he turned to leave. “You will be kind to her, won’t you? You know she’s only ever loved you.”

“Lord, Mother, you speak as if you fear I was Bluebeard himself.” Despite himself, his mouth quirked. “I like to pride myself on being a cut above the usual reprobate.”

“Yes, and I’ve always been proud of you for being a young man true to the highest ideals.”

She hesitated, and he raised his eyes enquiringly. “Why do I think that was not all you were going to say?”

Lady Durham’s troubled frown was swept away by her expansive greeting of an approaching couple, although the gentleman peeled away as he was detained by a knot of chattering women. “Why, here comes Miss Charlotte Merriweather. My dear Charlotte, you are blooming! Most brides would look considerably more nervous than you at the prospect of your marriage tomorrow.”

“I have nothing to be nervous about,” said the young woman with a quick smile at Felix, whom she’d come to know better during the past year since she’d graduated from the schoolroom. “I could think of no greater happiness than being Lord Hartley’s wife.”

Felix felt a tremor of emotion quite literally shake him to his foundations at the sight of the lovely, smiling, golden-haired creature, so different from her sister but clearly so at ease in her world. And so soon to marry a peer of the realm. There really could be no greater contrast between Hope and Charlotte. A spasm of rage and despair nearly choked him, though he managed with appropriate cordiality, “I don’t think I’ve seen you in six months, Miss Charlotte.” He kissed the back of her hand. “My mother is right. You have bloomed.”

“I have been fortunate, Mr Durham.” She inclined her head with a smile at Lady Durham who now made her excuses to leave them. Lowering her voice when the older woman had gone, she added, “Unlike my sister.”

“What do you know of your sister?” He regretted speaking so sharply though she did not appear to notice.

“I wish I did know something, Mr Durham.”

“Please. Call me Felix as you did when you were a child. We’ve been neighbours our whole lives, and you are, after all, about to marry a friend of mine. We shall see each other often, no doubt.” The thought brought a pang so acute he had to close his eyes briefly. Around him, the sound of chattering and the music of the orchestra that had just tuned up for a polka seemed overwhelming.

“Are you all right, Felix?” she asked anxiously.

“Heart pain. It happens. Please go on. What do you mean, you wish you knew something?” He tried not to let suspicion temper his words.

Charlotte frowned. “You recall the last time we met, when I chanced upon you in the village and we had only a moment to speak. I said I’d had a letter from Hope from her position in Germany, and that I’d thought the wording was odd and wondered if she was being kept against her will.”

“How could I forget?” Felix had always seen himself as her knight in shining armour and had his studies and his mother not prevented him, would have searched for her himself.

Bitterness swept over him. But, he reminded himself, he had Annabelle now, and though she did nothing to set his pulses racing, he’d always liked her well enough. For a short while, after the shock of his mother’s pronouncement that Hope appeared set to marry her employer’s nephew in Prussia, he’d finally reconciled himself to the idea of marrying Annabelle. The two families had, after all, long been pushing for a union.

And that’s what he’d do. Please them all. Hope Merriweather did not want him. She’d been playing with him from the start.

Charlotte’s voice intruded, returning him to the noisy, heated throng with its brittle gaiety that sat so ill with his current mood. “Well, a strange thing happened last week, Felix, and I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

She looked troubled as he nodded for her to go on.

“I was looking through Mama’s writing desk, which is usually kept locked, when I came upon a letter.” She glanced quickly behind her as if afraid of being overheard.

Felix gave her a smile that was more indulgent than encouraging. Young ladies, he’d discovered, liked making secretive discoveries. “I hope you weren’t prying where you ought not.”

“Not intentionally, of course.” Miss Charlotte looked concerned rather than embarrassed or chastened. She frowned even harder as she studied the ivory carving of her fan. “The letter was from Hope, and when I saw the postmark, I realised it had been sent from London two weeks after she was supposed to have boarded the packet to the Continent.”

“Why is that so strange?” Felix asked. “She probably gave it to someone to post who delayed doing so.”

Charlotte slid her eyes across the room to where her mama was in conversation with Lady Hunt. “I assumed the same but, you see, the letter was half out of the envelope, and when I pushed it back in I saw that she’d addressed it to Papa, not knowing that he’d died suddenly just after she’d left here.”