Anthony expected Felicia was far too busy in her new role as doting mother to worry over much about her enemies, but Anthony was not so naïve. He knew that the cunningly beautiful madam would not soon forget that she had been betrayed into giving up the information that had reunited Felicia with her daughter. So his next course of action was to seek out a new home for Felicia and her daughter, in the country, where she could bring up her child safely and respectably. But not too far from London, he thought, without bothering to analyze his motives for adding that last condition.
When next he found himself on Felicia's doorstep, he had a list of properties provided by his land agent, and a box of sweets for the two ladies who seemed to constantly occupy his thoughts.
"How thoughtful of you, my lord," said Felicia, slightly blushing as he presented them to her.
"Do call me Anthony," he said. "The formality seems unnecessary now that we are... friends."
"Certainly, Anthony," said Felicia, lowering her eyelids.
A sudden impulse to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless came over Anthony, and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to withstand the temptation. Instead, he took out his list and explained the purpose for his visit.
"Oh, how thoughtful of you!" she responded. "I have been so busy of late, but it has occurred to me that I cannot raise my daughter in this house where everyone knows I lived with your uncle."
"There is also the fact that here you are unprotected and a virtual sitting duck for the revenge of your enemies."
Felicia looked startled. "Oh, you mean at the Pleasure House," she said. "Yes, they will be furious when they discover that I have recovered my daughter." She looked at him curiously. "You never told me how you found the information that led you to her. Did your investigators steal it from the safe?"
Anthony found himself squirming as he recalled that evening in the Pleasure House. There were some things he really did not wish Felicia to know about that evening.
"I pretended to be furious at the terms of my uncle's will and she asked me to conspire with her against you to find the child and hold her for ransom until you refused to accept the bequest."
Felicia gasped, her face turning pale. "Oh my, she certainly will be enraged when she discovers your deception."
"Which is why it is imperative for you to remove outside the city."
They were sitting together on the sofa, heads together, in an avid discussion over the properties recommended by the land agent when Mrs. Grey came in with the tea trolley, accompanied by a radiant three-year-old, dressed in rose pink, her hair tied back with a matching ribbon.
"It's Lord Ken!" she cried, running into his arms. "Mama said you would come see us again!"
"Hello, poppet," he said, puliing her onto his lap. "Just call me Anthony."
She looked puzzled. "Why do you have so many names?"
Felicia intervened. "Darling, his name is Anthony. Lord Kendall is his title, but since he is our friend, he wants us to call him Anthony." She poured the tea and Mrs. Grey passed around a plate of cakes, which Cynthia reached for eagerly.
"I apologize for the interruption of the child," she said. "But once Cynthia saw the cakes, she clung to me like a leech." But her tone was indulgent.
Felicia gave a wry smile. "I can see already that we are going to have to acquire some strict discipline in this household," she said, and then sighed. "I am just so delighted to be around her that I can't quite manage to say no. Even when I know I should," she said, whisking the plate away after Cynthia had managed to snag a cake in each sticky hand.
"That's enough for now, poppet. You won't want to eat your luncheon as it is."
"If it's cakes for luncheon, I'll eat 'em all, Mama," she promised through a mouthful of cakes.
"Oh dear, you mustn't talk with your mouth full," said her mother. "What will Lord Kendall think of us?"
"Anthony," corrected Cynthia. "He's our friend now."
"Yes indeed," said her mother, smiling at Anthony. "Now go to the kitchen with Mrs. Grey and she will help you wash up."
She looked up at Anthony, "Will you stay for luncheon, Anthony?"
"With pleasure," he responded. And then they returned to their discussion of the properties he had brought, and they made plans to inspect them in the days to come.
****
"Mama, there's a lake!" cried Cynthia, whose mother clutched her hand tightly to keep her from wandering away. "A boat!"
"Indeed there is," replied Felicia, who was visualizing all the dangers offered by country homes and recalling all of the mischief she had fallen into in her own childhood. They would definitely need to hire a competent nursemaid.
Weldon Park was a well-maintained, stately manor not far from the village of Manningtree, in Essex. The house was constructed of grayish brown weathered stone with a small, but elegant portico in front in which to welcome guests. It was surrounded by a wide expanse of lawn—still showing some green even in the last days of November—formal gardens in the front and back, which,—Felicia noted—needed pruning prior to the advance of the winter season, a seasoned apple orchard, and a stable and carriage house.
"The estate is small," explained Anthony, "as the previous owner sold off most of it to pay his debts. There is enough land for perhaps half a dozen tenants, and the income is negligible, which is undoubtedly why the purchase price is so reasonable. You will still need to hire a steward to manage it, but it won't be a huge responsibility to weigh on you."
"I like that it's such an easy distance from the village," said Felicia. "On fine days we can walk to post letters or run errands."
"There is a dog cart that can be used by the household staff to make purchases," said Anthony. "You'll have to buy a carriage and some horses. And mounts as well, for you and Cynthia."
Cynthia's ears perked up. "A horse?" she squealed. "I get to ride a horse?"
Anthony laughed. "We'll start with a pony for you, poppet."
"Perhaps for me as well," said Felicia wryly. "I was on a horseback perhaps twice as a child, and both times, the horse balked and frightened me to death."
"You shall have lessons," he promised. "And well-behaved horses, of course. I'm sure you will learn to enjoy riding.
"So, have you finally settled on this property? I like the fact that it's set back so far from the main road and that there's a gatehouse where we can station a gatekeeper for security."
"I think so," said Felicia. "The house is a bit large for the two of us, but not large enough to require an army of servants. I think perhaps a housekeeper, cook and perhaps two or three maids, in addition to a nursemaid for Cynthia."
"Don't forget the steward, a gatekeeper, and a stablehand or two," cautioned Anthony. "And a gardener as well. Perhaps even a butler if you plan to entertain."
"Oh my," said Felicia weakly. "Such expense just to keep house for the two of us?"
"It's not that much more than you have in your house in Brook Street," said Anthony. "And with your income, you could outfit a several such houses and wear a different ballgown every day," he teased.
"A ballgown?" piped up the pretty toddler skipping along beside them. "What's a ball, Mama?"
"A ball is an event where ladies and gentlemen dress up in their best clothing and dance," explained her mother patiently.
"Shall we go to a ball? I should like to dance," said Cynthia wistfully.
Her mother smiled indulgently. "Perhaps when you are older we shall attend some events at the local assembly hall," she said, "and perhaps some private parties."
Felicia was stricken by a sudden vision of Anthony dressed to the nines in stylish black with an embroidered crimson waistcoat and elaborately tied cravat, his eyes smoldering as he looked at her, and requested the favor of a dance with her. Of course she would accept, for what lady could deny such an admirable gentleman? No doubt he would have no difficulty finding a wife. A proper wife, she thought, swallowing hard, not someone with a scandalous past.
"Do you think we can be settled by Christmas?" Felicia was saying. "I would like to have a traditional Christmas celebration this year, for Cynthia's sake. Will you come, Anthony?"
Anthony cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, I am committed to a house party," he said. "But I will come for a visit as soon as possible after the holidays. And Mistress Cynthia can show me all of her Christmas gifts."
Felicia tried not to show her disappointment. "Yes, of course," she said. "We will be glad to see you whenever you are free." But somehow, as happy as she was to have her daughter at her side and the promise of a lovely home and a new life in the respectable world, she thought it would be incomplete without Anthony at her side. But that was impossible, and she never allowed herself to dwell on what might have been.
"Now as to the furniture," she said firmly, "we will bring much of it from Brook Street. But this house is larger and will require more. Shall we go through again and make a list?"
****
Anthony leaned against the mantel and stared into the fireplace. The Crandalls were a very gracious and hospitable family, and the dozen or so guests at their holiday house party were people Anthony had met previously and liked. The gentlemen, having spent the afternoon shooting birds in the wood, had returned just in time to help the ladies seek out greenery with which to decorate the house. The wassail bowl was out, as well as an array of delicate holiday confections. Lady Crandall had begun playing Christmas carols on the magnificent Italian pianoforte, and several guests had joined their voices in song. It was indeed a very merry party, and Anthony could not understand why he felt so out of sorts.
"Are you so disappointed that you didn't bag any grouse today?" inquired a teasing voice. He turned his head and smiled at Jane. She was beautiful as always, this evening in a deep red gown accented by an emerald necklace, and she wore red camellias in her dark hair.
He was not surprised that she had been designated to be his partner for the entire event, as most of the others were married or betrothed couples. He had known upon accepting the invitation that it was as a potential husband that he was being included, and that a betrothal would be expected at the end of it. And he fully expected that it would happen, had indeed brought with him the family betrothal ring. Jane would be an admirable bride, in every possible way. She was beautiful and passionate, but not promiscuous. She had a loving family—which Anthony and his brother had never known and always craved—and he liked her. Her father would advance his career in Parliament. She was well-dowered and would be a doting mother.
Unbidden, Anthony's thoughts went to Felicia and her sweet daughter. And he realized that he had been thinking of Felicia all along, and that was why he could not feel comfortable as a part of the Crandall family. Because as wonderful and normal and welcoming as the Crandall family had been to him, what he really wanted to be was a part of the new family forming their own Christmas traditions at Weldon Park.
But that was not possible. He knew it and Felicia knew it. She had never let herself fall into the dismals because of the path her life had taken her, and if anyone had reason to do so, she certainly did. She had her daughter back and a lovely home and she would certainly not be wasting time regretting all of the things she could not have. He needed to follow her example.
He took Jane's arm and led her to the party at the pianoforte. "Your father seems to be a singularly fortunate man," he said. "Not only did he shoot the most birds this afternoon, but he has an extraordinary singing voice, and," he whispered, "a very lovely daughter."
Positioning her under the kissing bough that had been painstakingly installed in the afternoon revelry, he bent his head and kissed her firmly on the lips. She blushed and responded quite satisfactorily—considering that they were being observed by the carolers at the pianoforte—and he became convinced that she would be a most appealing wife.
Indeed, he had the betrothal ring in his pocket and was planning to speak to her father as the gentlemen retired to their port in Lord Crandall's library after dinner the next evening. Jane being a widow, he knew it wasn't strictly necessary for him to ask her father for her hand, but it was a polite gesture that he knew Jane would find romantic, and it seemed the appropriate thing to do under the circumstances.
Out of the presence of the ladies, the conversation turned to politics, specifically, a bill that Anthony had been working on to provide refuges for indigent children.
"That bill doesn't stand a chance of passing," said Lord Crandall. "The Tories won't back it, and a few of our own party will balk at the expenditure."
Anthony was incensed. "Then we go back and convince them," he said. "These children who are abandoned need somewhere to go besides the streets. We have a responsibility to them."
Lord Fitch gave a cynical laugh. "You haven't been in politics long enough, Kendall, if you think that anyone ever cared about indigent children."
"Then why did we draft the bill to begin with?" Anthony was puzzled.
Lord Crandall sent a warning glance Lord Fitch's way, but that gentleman had had a few too many glasses of wine and was not paying attention.
"The railroad bill," said Fitch carelessly. "To get the railroad bill through, we had to have something else we could sacrifice to persuade the Tories to vote our way on the railroad bill. That's how things work in politics. Always has."
"But we can always bring it forward again later," Lord Crandall hastened to say, walking over to Anthony and placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Of course we are concerned about all the indigent children about. Perhaps we can ask some charity to take on such a project."
It was too late, however. Anthony had already seen a rent in the net that had been ever so slowly but surely drawing him into the Crandall family circle, and he was eager to escape through it. He made his apologies to the gentlemen and fled to his room, where he set a surprised Mr. Morgan to packing his things. If he started tonight, he could be at Weldon Park in time for Christmas Eve.
He wrote a notes of apology to Lady Crandall and to Jane, explaining that he recalled business that needed immediate attention, but he knew that his behavior would be seen as inconsiderate and boorish and that, considering his cavalier treatment of Jane in the past, would pretty much end his chances of making her his wife any time soon. Not to mention the goodwill and sponsorship of her influential father.
And perhaps he was a fool, but he knew he had to follow his heart. And it was leading him to Weldon Park.