Felicity felt as though she were floating on clouds as she walked away from the Lyceum Theater with her hand firmly tucked into the crook of Felix’s elbow. But she had no way of knowing if the clouds would carry her up into a blue, blissful sky….or dissolve into mist and send her plunging back down to earth.

To say her heart was in her throat would have been a vast trivialization. As far as she could tell her heart was lodged somewhere in her head, and the two were engaged in a vicious battle.

Her head was determined to turn her around and send her marching back for a hackney, while her heart was directing her straight into Felix’s arms. With every small step she took towards his townhouse her heart gave a hard thump inside of her chest; a tiny celebration that her head was determined to quell.

This is what we said we would never do again! Her head blustered. You cannot trust him.

But it’s Felix, her heart said reasonably. He would never hurt us.

He’ll take everything from you, just as Ezra did. You’re a fool to think otherwise. The only person you can trust is yourself.

Felicity’s steps began to slow.

What am I doing? She thought helplessly. What am I thinking?

“It is only a little further.” Misunderstanding her reason for suddenly stopping in the middle of the empty street, Felix urged her forward with a gentle tug. “Down the lane and to the right. We’re nearly there.”

They’d exchanged bright torches and dramatic architecture for dimly lit lamps and a terrace of cream-colored stucco townhouses curved in a gentle crescent. The houses looked new, with sharp black trim around the windows and brick pathways framed with neatly trimmed boxwoods. They were also rather large, easily twice the size of Mrs. Atwood’s cozy rowhome, with balconies jutting out from the second and third floors.

Oddly enough, Felicity had never given much thought to where Felix lived. But whenever she had imagined it, this was certainly not what had come to mind. She’d imagined…well, she’d imagined he lived in something quite similar to the downtrodden flat she had been forced to leave. But these townhouses were sleek, modern – and no doubt very expensive.

“You live here?” she said, unable to prevent the doubt from creeping into her voice.

“Aye. Is that a problem for ye?”

“No. Of course not. It’s just…”

“Not what ye were expecting?” Looking amused, Felix faced her and lifted her hand to his mouth. Brushing his lips across her bare knuckles – she’d forgotten her gloves in the theater – he said, “On occasion I sleep on a cot at The Pony. We can go there if ye’d like.”

Another insufferable blush swept across her cheeks and she pulled her hand away. “I am sorry. I should not have assumed.”

“No,” he agreed, although he did not appear to be insulted in the slightest. “Ye shouldn’t have. Shall we, my lady?” But when he offered her his arm Felicity could do little more than stare at it as her body refused to move.

Blast her head! Why did it always have to draw the worst possible conclusion? The easy thing to do – the right thing to do – would be to take Felix’s arm and let him lead her into his home and into his bed. No more than ten minutes ago she’d stood before him and told him that was exactly what she wanted. But now…now she did not know what she wanted.

Felicity closed her eyes. She was not some quivering virgin about to climb into the marriage bed for the very first time! She knew what awaited her. She knew what lovemaking entailed. She’d had a husband, hadn’t she? But it wasn’t Ezra who filled her chest with ice when she thought of laying down beside Felix. Because it wasn’t Ezra who had clawed and grabbed and pinned her to the mattress.

And wasn’t that what – and whom – she was really afraid of?  

Felix was a good man. He’d proven that time and time again, in a myriad of ways. And when it came to it – if it came to it – he would be a good husband and a good father. He wouldn’t cast her aside as Ezra had done. He wouldn’t hurt her like Rodger. That she believed with every beat of her heart. It wasn’t Felix who was preventing her from taking a step forward.

It was herself.

It was her own doubts and her insecurities and her fears. What if she tried to make love to Felix…and she couldn’t? What if she froze, and her breathing quickened and black dots danced in front of her vision and she had one of her horrible attacks? Or even worse yet, what if they did make love…and Felix found her wanting?

Ezra always had. Not before Rodger, but after…after, when she could do nothing else but lay there and stare up at the ceiling, he’d rolled off her in disgust and left the room without a word. For four long years, before he stopped visiting her completely, it had been the same thing over and over and over again. And no matter how hard she willed her body to respond, she never could.

Was it any wonder, then, that he’d had sought comfort in the arms of a mistress? For what sort of woman could not please her own husband?

“Felicity.” Felix’s gentle voice coaxed her from the dark depths of her own mind, and it wasn’t until he brushed his finger against her cheek that she realized she’d begun to cry. “Ye can tell me, love. Whatever it is. Ye can tell me.”

She blinked back her tears and shook her head. “What if it changes your mind? About me. About us. About any future we might have together.”

Felix simply wrapped his arms around her trembling frame and pulled her into his protective embrace. For a few moments they both just breathed, their chests rising and falling in tandem before he rested his chin on top of her head and said, “There is nothing ye could say that would make me love ye any less. Nothing.”

She sucked in a quick, surprised breath. “You – you love me?”

“Did ye think I’ve been courtin’ ye for me own health?” His hold tightened. “Of course I bloody well love ye. And ye love me too, ye daft, stubborn female.”

It took a bit of effort, but Felicity managed to wrench herself free of his grasp. “Perhaps you should not call the woman you just pledged to love daft or stubborn,” she said stiffly.

“And why not?” Felix demanded, his eyes flashing a hot, molten gold in the shifting shadows. “Ye are daft to think that anything from your past could prevent me from loving ye in the present. And ye are stubborn to have kept us apart for this long.”

When he put it that way…

“I have had my reasons,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze.

 “Aye, I know.” He rubbed his chin. “Because of the scandal, and what people would say. But after that ringer ye gave Lady Manheim I’m inclined to think ye no longer give a flyin’ fish what anyone else thinks of ye. Nor should ye. So the only thing I’m left to assume is that even after all this time, ye still don’t think I’m good enough for ye.”

Her jaw dropped. Was that was he really thought?

“I never said that!” she exclaimed.

“Ye never had to, love.” Tipping onto his heels, he crossed his arms. “But I’m not half as dumb as I look.”

“I never thought you were dumb,” she said fiercely. “And I never thought you were not good enough for me. If anything, it is the opposite.”

Felix snorted. “Now that’s a crock if I’ve ever heard one.”

“It’s true,” she insisted when his top lip curled in disbelief. “There are things about me you do not know.”

“Then tell me.”

“It – it is not that simple.”

“Aye, it is.” His expression inscrutable, he cupped the nape of his neck and squeezed the corded muscles until his knuckles shone white in the weak lamplight. “We can go on as we have been for the next fifty years and I wouldn’t bat an eye, because I’d rather have part of ye than none at all. But that isn’t what I want, and I don’t think that’s what ye want either.”

“No.” She closed her eyes again. “It isn’t.”

She wanted more than a courtship. She wanted a lifetime. A lifetime of waking up beside him in the morning and falling asleep next to him at night. A lifetime of his roguish stares and naughty quips. A lifetime of knowing she was loved beyond measure. But in exchange for a lifetime, she needed to do the one thing she had sworn to herself she would never do again.

If she wanted the dream, she needed to finally face her demons.

She needed to tell him what had happened seven years ago.

She needed to tell him about Rodger.