Felix could think of a hundred things he would rather do than work alongside the likes of Grant Hargrave. Starting with cutting off his own arm. But when Owen gave a direct order there was no getting around it and so the next morning the two men found themselves walking together in stony silence, neither one of them acknowledging the other until they were standing outside the gate of 374 Beacon Lane.

“What did she take this time?” Felix asked, shifting his weight back onto his heels and slanting a hand across his brow to block out the sun as he gazed up at the private residence of their jewelry thief’s latest victim. The three-story brick house was nearly identical to every other house in this particular section of Grosvenor Square, right down to the blue shutters and blossoming cherry tree in the front garden. 

“I do not know yet.” Grant pushed open the gate and proceeded up the narrow stone walkway. “The report was vague. A necklace, I would assume. Usually only one. Rather odd she wouldn’t take more given the trouble it must take to break in, but nothing about this case has made sense from the beginning.”

“Ye don’t see many female burglars,” Felix agreed as he closed the gate and followed Grant up the walkway.

“No, you do not.” Pulling off his hat, Grant tucked it under his arm and raked a hand through his hair. “Particularly ones who have a penchant for knives.”

“I heard she stuck ye.” Felix grinned broadly, delighted by the fact that the mighty Grant Hargrave had been stopped in his tracks by a woman. And not just any woman, but a common thief. If they ever did catch the lass he didn’t know which he would be tempted to do more: put her in handcuffs or buy her a drink.

“She almost stuck me,” Grant corrected with a narrow-eyed glare. “But her days of freedom are numbered. I’ve tracked her all the way to Dickens Square. She’s running out of places to hide.”

“Dickens Square is a big place.”

“Not big enough.”

Felix rubbed his chin. “What does she look like, this jewel thief of yours?”

“She’s not my jewel thief,” Grant said quickly. Too quickly to Felix’s way of thinking.

There was something there whether he chose to admit it or not. Having felt the same thing with Felicity from the moment they’d first met, Felix recognized the signs all too well. 

It was a tiny flicker of desire.

A spark of attraction.

A whisper of lust.

Only time would tell whether the flicker became a flame and the whisper turned into a shout. For his own personal entertainment Felix hoped that it did. Grant would be well served with a little complication in his perfect, holier-than-thou life. And what was more complicated than falling for a woman he couldn’t have?  

“All you need to know is that she’s quick as a snake and twice as mean.” Grant absently rubbed his side where Felix assumed the chit had gotten a bit too close for comfort with one her knives. But before he could respond with a pithy remark the door opened to reveal a footman who quickly ushered both men into the front parlor. The large room was comfortably decorated with heavy furniture in matching shades of green, gold drapes, and a large fireplace framed with tile.

“Lord Ashburn will be but a moment,” said the footman. “Can I offer you gentlemen any refreshments?”

Felix’s head whipped around with so much force he felt a distinct pop in his neck. “What name did ye say?” he asked in a soft, soft voice that had the footman’s brow creasing with confusion and a hint of wariness.

“Lord Ashburn, sir. Is – is something the matter?”

A dark, predatory smile twisted Felix’s mouth. “No. Nothing is the matter a’tall.”

 

“It’s lovely.” Standing in the middle of Scarlett’s vaulted foyer, Felicity turned in a slow circle as she admired the house the Steel’s had finally purchased after months of searching for just the right one. It had been no small task given the newlywed’s conflicting tastes, but they’d managed to do it with a three-story row house that boasted hints of Grecian architecture, high ceilings, and hardwood floors polished to a glossy shine. As they’d just moved in the rooms were still largely devoid of furniture and her voice echoed in the empty space when she added, “I can see why you chose it.”

“Should I show you your bedroom now or wait until later?” Scarlett asked with an innocent smile that Felicity saw straight through. Wandering over to an empty marble pedestal, she trailed her fingers across the top of it before she lifted her head and looked her friend square in the eye.

“No,” she said firmly.

“But Filly–”

“No. That is a lovely dress, by the by. I do not believe I’ve seen you wear it before.”

Today Scarlett wore a sprigged muslin walking dress in soft violet with lace at the sleeves and a gauze overlay on the bodice. It was not an elegant evening gown by any means, but it made Felicity’s blue and white checkered gingham both look dowdy in comparison.

Before the divorce she had never thought twice about her wardrobe. It was a forgone conclusion that every autumn she would be fitted for a myriad of dresses in a variety of fabrics, as well as wraps, shawls, and unmentionables. Money had never been an issue. Ezra may not have been a duke, but he’d inherited a generous sum from his father and when she was his wife she had never wanted for anything.

It made her feel foolish, and a bit vain, to have taken everything she’d been given for granted. As the wife of a peer she’d merely accepted it as her due, and it had never crossed her mind that it might one day all be taken away. Now she had three dresses to her name instead of three dozen and they were all rapidly falling out of fashion as hemlines lengthened, sleeves shortened, and heavy silk gave way to lighter, more versatile fabrics like cotton.

Not that it really mattered what her dresses looked like. She could wear the Duchess of Kent’s most expensive gown and still not be welcomed at Almack’s, or anywhere else for that matter. But it wasn’t herself she was the most concerned about. It was her children.

Ezra had been a bit more benevolent with their parting wardrobes than his wife’s, but Anne and Henry were growing like weeds and it would only be a matter of months – mayhap weeks – before their clothes no longer fit. Then what was she supposed to do?

A worry for tomorrow, she told herself firmly. On the way to Scarlett’s house she had made herself a promise that for one day she would not let the heavy weight of her responsibilities and an uncertain future drag her down into a pit of worry and despair. For one day – for one blissful, sunny day – she wanted to embrace all of the things she had instead of all the things she had not.

Two beautiful, healthy children.

A dear friend she could once again consider a sister.

A man who made her blood heat and her knees weaken.

Felicity’s gaze dropped to the floor as she felt a blush warm her cheeks. Now where had that thought come from? After their last torrid encounter had ended in tears she thought she’d successfully pushed any thought of Felix to the back of her mind, but apparently he’d been lurking in the shadows just waiting for the right opportunity to make his appearance known.

Pesky man.

It was bad enough he showed up on her doorstep whenever he pleased. She did not need to be thinking about him when he wasn’t even here! It reminded her of a stray cat her mother had made the mistake of feeding once. All it had taken was one bowl of milk and the cat had begun scratching at their window at all hours of the day and night. Nothing would make it go away and finally, in a fit of desperation, her mother had allowed it into the house where it had lived quite happily for seven long years.

“It is quite lovely, isn’t it?” Scarlett’s dress flared out from her waist as she turned in a quick circle. “I wasn’t sure about the color, but–”

“Felix Spencer kissed me,” Felicity blurted.

“–my seamstress insisted it would be all the rage come spring and she…was…what did you say?”

“Felix Spencer kissed me.”

“Yes.” Scarlett looked at her oddly. “Last summer in my bedchamber. You told me that already, don’t you remember? Although that does remind me that he still has not returned my jewelry. I am going to have to talk to Owen about that.”   

Hands curling into tiny fists, Felicity began to pace circles around the marble pedestal. “Yes, that was the first time he kissed me.”

“You say that as though there have been other times.”

“There have! Two. Two other times. In the middle of Hyde Park and in my kitchen yesterday morning. Or is it my parlor?” She threw up her hands. “It doesn’t matter. The point is he kissed me again. Twice.”

Scarlett blinked. “One kiss could be ascribed to the heat of the moment, but three…well, that’s two more than one.”

“Thank you so very much for the arithmetic lesson,” Felicity huffed. 

“Do not get belligerent with me. You are the one who has been hiding kisses.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I did not think it would become anything. No, that is not true.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Forced herself to take a deep, even breath. “It is because I thought it might become something that I did not tell you. I believed if I pushed it under the rug–”

“It would disappear?” A wry smile pulled at the corners of Scarlett’s mouth. “I used to believe the very same thing. Unfortunately that only works for dust, not love.”

“Love.” Startled, Felicity stopped short as her heart gave a hard thud inside of her chest. “I do not love Felix Spencer.”

Scarlett closed the distance between them and clasped Felicity’s hands. Giving a gentle squeeze she said, “Don’t you?”

“No. Yes. Oh, I do not know.” Distressed, could only shake her head. “I thought I loved Ezra and look how that turned out.”

“Ezra is as worthless as a tit on a chicken.”

A choked laugh forced its way past Felicity’s lips. “I cannot believe you said that.”

“I overhead one of the Runner’s use it and I’ve been waiting for the opportunity. But I should have said it far sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, looking searchingly into Scarlett’s clear gray gaze. 

“Because I know what it is like to think you know someone, only to have it turn out that you never really knew them at all. It hurts,” she said as tears gathered in Felicity’s eyes. “It hurts your heart and your soul. But worse than that, far worse to my mind, is it makes you doubt yourself.”

“Yes,” Felicity whispered. “Yes it does.”

“You did not do anything wrong. Look at me,” she said with Felicity’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Look,” she repeated, and with great reluctance Felicity forced herself to meet Scarlett’s fierce stare. “Ezra is a pompous bastard and he never deserved you. You’re well to be rid of him.”

One of the hundreds of tears Felicity had been desperately trying to keep at bay slid down her cheek. “I know that. Truly I do. But it does not make it any easier.”

“No,” Scarlett agreed. “I am afraid the only thing that can do that is time. Time and a few passionate kisses.” Her eyebrows darted up and down. “Is Felix a good kisser? He looks as though he would be. All rough and roguish.”

As her tears gave way to a mortified giggle, Felicity pulled her hands free and covered her face. “You cannot ask me that!”

“I certainly can.”

“Then I decline to answer.”

“Which is all the answer I need.” Her eyes glinting with a mischievous light, Scarlett tucked a short blonde curl behind her ear.

She had cut her hair in an act of defiance right before Rodger died and she had kept it shorn close to the nape of her neck ever since. The bold style became her, just as Felicity’s soft, romantic tresses suited her. As inconsequential as it seemed, their hair was a fitting analogy for how very different the two women were.

Scarlett had always been the more outspoken and audacious one, while Felicity preferred to conduct herself with quiet grace. Scarlett threw herself into a problem without any thought for the consequences while Felicity carefully weighed every single option before making a decision. Scarlett followed her heart while Felicity always listened to her head. Yet for all of their differences they had both ended up in the same place.

Married to monsters.

Walking away from the marble pedestal, Felicity went across the foyer until she had a clear view of the rear garden where Henry and Anne were romping about the neatly trimmed lawn with the reckless abandon of two puppies. Satisfied they remained under the watchful eye of Scarlett’s maid, she turned back towards her friend and, after a moment’s hesitation, decided to admit the truth. “I would be lying if I did not say there are certain parts of Felix that are…appealing.”

Scarlett lifted a brow. “I can only imagine what those parts are. It makes a difference, you know. The size. I thought all men were the same before Owen and I became intimate.” Her mouth curved in a satisfied, catlike smile. “They’re not.”

“Scarlett.”

“What?” The blonde’s shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “It does make a difference and something tells me you would be very pleased with your Mr. Spencer.”

“I was talking about his kisses.” Felicity’s face could not have been any hotter than if it were on fire. “Not –not–” Oh, she couldn’t even say it! Scarlett, of course, did not have any such reservations.

“His member?” she suggested innocently. “His tackle? His prodigious engine? His stiff steed? His arbor vitae?”

“Arbor vitae sounds like a tree.”

“Let’s hope it is an oak and not a sapling.”

Felicity’s blush spread all the way down to her collarbone. “I do not care to discuss this any longer.”

“Are you sure? We were just getting to the best part. Oh all right,” Scarlett sighed when she realized she’d pushed Felicity as far as she could. “Enough teasing. When are you going to see Felix again?”

“I do not know if I am.”

“And why not? You just said you found him appealing.”

“I said I found parts of him appealing.”

“That still does not answer my question. Why would you not want to see him again?”

“Because – because I have never known an affair that ended well for both parties. And I do not only have myself to consider.” Felicity chewed on the inside of her cheek as she walked to one of the front windows and peered out through the clear glass, gloved fingers pressing down on the freshly painted sill. Scarlett had chosen a soft white for the wooden trim that framed the windows and doors. The walls were bare, the old paper stripped away to make room for the new. And even though it was silly and foolish and melancholy, she felt a pang of sympathy for the old paper. Not so long ago it had been carefully chosen over all the other wallpapers that were available. It had been loved. Admired. Now it was sitting in an old bin somewhere, crumpled up and forgotten.   

“How do you know he wants an affair?” Scarlett asked.

“What else could he possibly want?”

“Marriage? Oh, do not look at me like that.” Gliding up beside Felicity, she tucked her hands behind her back as she looked out at the street. A chestnut horse trotted past, pulling a buggy with a man and a woman inside. On their way to the park, no doubt, as it was another bright, beautiful day with nary a cloud in the sky. “Is it so far out of the realm out of possibility that a handsome, charming man would want to marry you?”

“I really do not think–”

“Or,” Scarlett continued, her eyes narrowing, “is it that you do not want to marry him because he is a commoner? Because I have gone down that path, and I can tell you from personal experience that it is not lined with rose petals and rainbows.”

“No one is talking about marriage!” Flustered, Felicity threw her hands in the air and stepped away from the sill. “And it does not matter a fiddle to me that Felix is common born. He could be a duke and it would not alter my feelings towards him one way or another.”

“So you do have feelings for him.”

“I did not say that.”

“Then you don’t have feelings?”

Felicity hesitated. “I did not say that either.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I am saying he would not want to marry me.”

Scarlett’s brow creased. “Why the dickens not?” she demanded.  

“Why would any man want to – want to marry me?” Shame caused Felicity’s voice to catch and the back of her neck to burn. “I am ruined.”

“Oh darling.” Scarlett reached out and squeezed her hand. “Don’t you know all the best women are?”