Chapter Five
The next day, Nicholas rode to Castle Keyvnor to have breakfast with his friend Teddy Lockwood, the Earl of Ashbrooke. It was the first time he had seen Teddy since his marriage a month ago to Lady Claire Deering. Teddy and Claire had been best friends since childhood, and all of their friends from Eton had predicted long ago that the two were destined for marriage—but they’d never admitted their feelings to each other until the will reading for the Earl of Banfield at the castle on All Hallows’ Eve.
“Marriage agrees with you, my friend,” Nicholas said, patting butter on his toast. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so relaxed.”
Teddy grinned as he set his tea cup down on the saucer. “I’ve never been better. Even went hiking yesterday.”
Nicholas arched a brow. “You hate hiking. At school, you said the outdoors was for men with death wishes.” He pitched his voice lower, imitating Teddy. “‘Too many bugs. Too much heat. Pollen is the very devil.’”
Teddy laughed. “I still stand by all of that. I’m not saying I’d make it a hobby, but when I’m with Claire, I find I can do all sorts of things I never thought possible. She makes me want to be a better man, Nick.”
“If you weren’t my friend, you’d sicken me.” Nicholas let out a mock-groan. “You can keep your ball and chain. I’ll be living the bachelor life for many more years.”
“Of course you will.” There was a knowing glint to Teddy’s eyes that Nicholas didn’t appreciate. “That’s what Blackwater said too, and Lancaster, and St. Giles. There’s something about Castle Keyvnor that brings love to the forefront.”
“Lucky for me then that I’m staying at Tetbery.” He swallowed down another mouthful of eggs, buying time in silence, for Teddy eyed him as if he had more to say, if Nicholas would just give him the opening.
Without his approval, an image of Felicity sprang to mind. She’d looked right out there on the front lawn of the estate yesterday, smiling as she greeted their guests. While he couldn’t ride away from Tetbery fast enough this morning, she didn’t want to leave it.
I’m right where I’m supposed to be, she’d said. What must that be like, to feel at home? Even though he’d inherited Wycliffe Manor several years ago, it didn’t feel like his—he hadn’t even changed the décor of his study yet. Just like his Mayfair townhouse, the manor was exactly the same as it had been when his father was alive.
He’d told himself it was because he was too busy to devote time to something trivial like decorating. Yet as he’d entered the castle today, he couldn’t help but admit that the greenery and ribbons made a difference—for the first time since he’d arrived in Bocka Morrow, he felt like it was truly Christmastime.
Teddy took another sip of tea, then asked, “How is your aunt’s ward? Miss Farthing, is it?”
Nicholas highly doubted Teddy had forgotten Felicity’s surname. He remembered everything, much like Felicity herself. But for now, Nicholas would let him think he was being subtle. “Miss Fields, and she is as difficult as ever.”
“How so?”
Nicholas took a bite of toast, frowning. “Felicity has her own ideas about how things should be done, and she doesn’t diverge from that. I want her to come to London with me, to re-enter society. She’s never even had a Season. Aunt Margaret secluded herself on the estate.”
“Society is not kind to those who are different.” Teddy frowned, and Nicholas suspected he was thinking about Claire. When Claire’s mother was admitted to the Ticehurst Asylum, the beau monde had shunned her, dubbing her the Mad Daughter. “Though perhaps she might have better luck, with you as her sponsor.”
Teddy did not sound all that convinced.
Having finished with his breakfast, Nicholas shoved his plate away from him and moved his chocolate cup closer. “When we were children, she told me I was ‘bothersome, but tolerable.’”
“I’d say that’s an accurate assessment of you.” Teddy laughed again.
It had been so long since he’d heard Teddy laugh, but marriage seemed to change that about his old friend, too. Tall, dark-haired Teddy had always been the most studious of their group, and the most likely to take everything far, far too seriously. “What did you think about her?”
Nicholas ran his finger across the rim of his chocolate mug, thinking. “Back then, I considered her rigidity and frankness small prices to pay when the alternative was spending the summer alone.”
Teddy nodded. “And now?”
He considered this for a moment. “Over the years, I’ve come to think of her like a geometric proof.” When Teddy appeared confused, Nicholas continued, “She begins with the known facts, moves on to a logical deduction, and then arrives at an informed conclusion. She’s the most painstakingly rational person I’ve ever known.”
And it’s infuriating.
He did not say this to Teddy, however, for Teddy had returned his attention to his breakfast and the last thing Nicholas wanted was more of his not-so-subtle conjectures.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Teddy mused. “I quite like rational people. I consider myself one, actually.”
“Perhaps you and Felicity would get along, then.” Maybe Teddy would have better luck with her than he had. “You could talk to her. Convince her to come to London with me.”
Teddy shook his head. “You’re like a brother to me, Nicholas. All the more reason why I wouldn’t dare interfere in this matter.”
There was an underlying note to Teddy’s refusal—something that, if he didn’t know Teddy as well as he did, he might have considered akin to sort out your own woman.
But Felicity wasn’t his. Not in that sense, at least. She was his problem, yes, but not his.
He sighed. “How do you argue with someone who always thinks they’re right?”
“You wait until they’re wrong.” Teddy shrugged. “Or, you accept that maybe, they really are always right.”
He didn’t want to dignify that possibility. “When I was ten, I told Felicity that I thought I saw Uncle Randall’s ghost in his chambers. I know ghosts don’t exist—”
“You’d be surprised,” Teddy said, making Nicholas start. His logical, erudite friend had never given the occult credence before. “I may have seen one when we were here in October. I’ve learned there’s much more to the supernatural than I’d care to admit.”
Someday, he’d have to get the full story from Teddy about what exactly happened to him at the castle. He started to ask about it, but Teddy shook his head.
“Another time. What did Felicity say to your ghost theory?”
“She said ghosts were not provable by science, and thus they couldn’t exist.” He rolled his eyes when Teddy grinned at him.
Years ago, he had taken comfort in how certain she sounded when making this declaration. He’d never heard anyone speak with such plain conciseness: arriving at an answer right away, without seeking anyone else’s opinion on the matter. Everyone in his life deferred to someone else. His mother looked to the patronesses of Almack’s to know what was fashionable, while his father blindly followed the Tories in the House of Lords, because that was what Hardings had always done.
In the following summers, he realized that this bluntness was simply how Felicity spoke, whether or not she had irrefutable evidence to support her claim.
With that realization, what had been reassuring became vexatious.
“I think she sounds like a fascinating woman,” Teddy said. “Anyone who can challenge the Duke of Wycliffe and live to tell about it has my vote.”
Nicholas frowned. “You make me sound like an ogre.”
“No, just a powerful man.” Teddy’s voice lost its flippancy, becoming grave. “It’s easy to forget what others face when you live like we do. But you said this girl has no family left. Do right by her, Wycliffe.”
Nicholas’s head jerked up at the use of his title. Teddy never called him Wycliffe—when they’d gone to school together, he hadn’t been the duke.
“I’m trying to,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.
“Do more than try,” Teddy demanded. “Be the man you were when you drafted that Night Watch Bill.”
“That man was made to look like a fool,” Nicholas reminded him.
Teddy shook his head. “That man had integrity. I almost lost Claire because I was too cowardly to fight for her. Don’t make the same mistake.”
“It’s hardly the same thing,” Nicholas protested, yet Teddy’s features kept that serious cast. “Fine, I’ll do my best.”
As he rode back to Tetbery, Teddy’s words kept repeating in his mind. “Do right by her, Wycliffe.”