CHAPTER EIGHT
Hugh settled into the comfortable chair at his club, grateful at being released, even for a moment, from the traitorous thoughts plaguing him on a daily basis.
He had spent the past week avoiding Felicia at every social gathering. He had also expended a great deal of energy ensuring they never had an opportunity to speak, despite her concerted effort to effect the opposite result—and in spite of his body's insistence on a different course of action.
He was more than ready to commence married life. It would put paid to these unholy notions about Felicia, while she could move on to some other gentleman who piqued her fancy.
He let out a relieved sigh. It was the best thing for everyone concerned.
"Have you ever seen this rascal so content?" Tony, Lord Travender, leaned against the nearby fire surround, cradling a glass of brandy.
"And from a man soon to be leg-shackled. It is a marvel," Julian teased.
"My jubilation is because of this respite from everything having to do with the upcoming wedding."
He had been unable to ask the men about the whole predicament with Felicia. Despite being his close friends, they were also Felicia's relatives, her cousin and brother. He would never be able to mention that scorching kiss. . .
Not for the first time, Hugh wished his best friend Winbourne had returned from his extended honeymoon trip. Though perhaps it was for the best. Hugh had mocked the man's feelings when things were not progressing so well with his now-bride, Georgiana, and Winbourne was certain to exact revenge for it.
"Julian," Tony said, "I have something I have been meaning to ask."
Julian raised his eyebrows, waiting with ducal impatience.
Hugh nearly cackled at the sight. "How long has he used that imperious expression on us? Since he was a mere marquess?"
"I'd say since we were in leading strings." Tony snorted. "I'm tempted to ask his valet how many mirrors it required to get it just right."
"Your petty jealousy warms my heart, gentlemen," Julian answered. "Especially since I have seen both of you attempting it when you think I am not watching."
Tony and Hugh protested, their words tumbling over each other to proclaim themselves blameless.
"And I believe you wanted to ask me a question?"
Tony and Hugh cackled anew at the exaggerated lift of eyebrows. This time Julian joined in their laughter.
"Have you heard Felicia mention that curse lately?" Tony continued. "It is all stuff and nonsense, of course. But she has been acting quite strangely, more so than usual. Particularly after her recent excitement in Hyde Park."
"A curse?" Hugh sat forward, hoping to deflect discussion about his part in Felicia's misadventure. "What sort of curse?"
"The curse of true love," Julian replied. "It's an old family legend."
"Why have I never heard of this until now?"
"I have no idea," Tony answered. "The minx talks about it incessantly. And when Great-Aunt Uproar gets involved—" He placed both palms over his ears, as if blocking out the cacophony even then.
Julian must have seen the complete confusion on Hugh's face. "Supposedly our family is cursed to find their one true love," he explained, "and fall for them instantly. If it is not reciprocated, they are consigned to live alone for the rest of their lives, unable to love another."
"It sounds like some sort of a fairytale," Hugh retorted. "People have been marrying without love, to make a good alliance, for centuries now. Surely you can't believe in this falling instantly in love business."
Julian shrugged, as if not entirely sure how to answer.
Tony did not exercise any such restraint. He laughed, tilting his head back, filling the room with the boisterous sound. He earned a glare from an old gentleman nearby who had been woken from a deep sleep.
"Whether or not I believe in the family curse," Julian replied, "Felicia certainly does."
Hugh sagged in his chair, relieved and dejected all at once. This supposed curse might explain Felicia's rash behavior. But how could it possibly explain his own?
"You look positively morose," Tony commented cheerfully.
"Well, thanks to this curse," Hugh said with a scowl, "I have Felicia chasing after me as if I am the prize at one of those damned cheese rolling festivals."
Tony choked on his brandy. "I can just see you bouncing along the hillside, trying to stay one step ahead of her outstretched hands."
"It is not at all seemly, Tony. I am doing my best to provide a respectable home for my—for my bride. And Flighty Felicia is making me into a laughingstock. No offense, Julian."
"None taken."
Hugh took a big sip of brandy, gratified at the warmth it provided. "I find myself attracted to her, of course." He shot another quick glance at Julian, hoping the man had no idea how attracted he was to Felicia. "No offense, naturally."
He got a slight nod in return.
"Just say what you have to say," Tony urged, "without worrying about Julian calling you out. Although, if he does, you will have to find someone else to serve as your second, since I'm committed already to my cousin here."
Hugh laid his head against the back of the chair and tried not to growl his frustration. "I have gone to a great deal of effort to select the proper wife, now that it is finally time for me to settle down and marry. I cannot have these sorts of complications."
"Gad," Tony said, his nose wrinkled with disapproval. "I don't go to that much trouble for my racing horses. And you know how I love my racing horses."
Hugh lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at him. "You are impossible. This situation is impossible. I have never given Felicia a second look until recently. Why would I? The minx is more likely to pinch me than speak to me. But then she asked me to marry her—"
"What?" Tony blurted.
"When?" Julian choked out.
"At my betrothal ball." He turned to Tony. "I accused her of having some sort of wager with you."
"Damn. I only wish I'd thought of it."
Julian laughed. "I hope I am never afflicted with this curse—"
Tony made another scoffing sound.
"But, you have to admit, as flighty as the girl can be, she is very single-minded about this pursuit of you. Usually by now she has changed course and taken on some other diversion. It has been weeks since her last elopement attempt."
Julian studied Hugh in such a way that he felt compelled to sit up straighter, to prove he was worthy of Felicia's attentions. But it mattered little whether or not he was worthy.
"Even if I wanted to aid Felicia with this blasted curse of hers, I cannot cry off from my engagement to Miss Lansdale."
He would go from Lord Wastrel to Lord Shunned in the blink of an eye. All of his efforts on Lucinda's behalf would be utterly destroyed. Not that Tony and Julian could know that. He was not quite ready to divulge his daughter's existence to them.
"It is why I begin to believe there may be something to this curse," Julian finally said. "Felicia has been careless about her own reputation with all these elopements, but she would not willingly blot someone else's copy book. Nor would she deliberately cause Miss Lansdale any harm."
Hugh nodded in agreement. Felicia was headstrong and a bit of a hoyden, but she could never be described as mean-spirited or deceitful. In fact, he would be the first to call out anyone making such false claims about her.
"What will happen to Felicia?" Hugh asked. "I mean, if this curse were actually real?"
Julian seemed to grimace. "She will spend the rest of her days alone, loving someone who is wed to another."
Hugh wanted to groan. He could consign Felicia to a life of spinsterhood, an existence she neither deserved nor was suited for. Or he could cry off from his nuptials, causing Penelope untold embarrassment, while creating a scandal that would disrupt Lucinda's life even further.
It had seemed like such a simple quest, finding the perfect mother for his child. But now. . .
He held out his glass towards Julian, wishing the man was dispensing wisdom, not merely brandy.
~ * ~
Hugh left the club and entered his waiting carriage, signaling the coachman to head toward home. He settled into the cushions, watching the blurry scenery passing, wondering if perhaps he had been cursed too.
It was the only excuse for these impractical, impossible thoughts of going to Penelope's father and asking to be let out of his contractual obligation.
His body urged him to throw caution to the wind, and damn the consequences to his daughter's future, hoping he could somehow arrange things for the best. Years ago he would have eagerly followed such counsel.
But now, his heart and mind despised the mere thought of it. Unlike his own selfish parents, once he knew of his responsibility, he had changed his wild lifestyle. His family's curse—choosing scandal and impropriety over a child's needs—would stop with him, no matter what he might desire instead.
Hugh dropped his head in his hands. He would tell Felicia, once and for all, that this madness had to stop. It might not halt the unrealistic notions residing in his mind, nor cease his body overheating at the mere mention of her name.
She might not ever forgive him for causing her a lifelong heartache.
But at least he could spend the rest of his days knowing he had been a parent whose affections did not waver when presented with the latest temptation.
The carriage stopped at his townhouse and he exited, trudging up the stairs to the front door. He was not as joyous as he had hoped by his decision. In truth, his rebellious body refused to accept his choice. But he knew he could overcome that, eventually.
He would arrange to meet with Penelope's father, to dispel any gossip that might have reached Mr. Lansdale over Felicia's high-spirited pursuit.
Hugh could even appeal to the man as a father. They both had their daughters' future wellbeing in mind, didn't they? Hugh was buying respectability, while Mr. Lansdale was gaining a title for his child.
Before Hugh could congratulate himself on his strategy, Haselton greeted him at the open door. "Good day, my lord. You have visitors."
Hugh nearly growled. "I am not at home to visitors today."
"I have shown them to the blue parlor," Haselton continued as if Hugh had not spoken. "And I am having tea brought in."
Hugh exhaled a heavy breath. "Who is awaiting me then?"
"Miss Lansdale. And her father."