She yelped and barreled forward.

He caught her in his beautiful strong arms just as Lord Trumbold let out another groan and flopped back to the floor.

Her heart raced as she was crushed to Lord Talbot.

She grimaced at the recollection of Lord Trumbold’s fleshy grip on her ankle.

“It’s all right,” Lord Talbot said softly, gazing down at her. “You’re safe with me.”

She leaned in against him, savoring the brief feeling of being safe. She knew it was an illusion. Women had to take care of themselves. Oh, they needed husbands, but they had to rely on themselves if they wished for a good life.

Still, it had shaken her, the way Lord Trumbold had grabbed her. Perhaps, the whole night had shaken her more than she wished to admit. She knew it would be difficult, reentering society. She’d known people would be cruel, but she hadn’t quite been prepared for the way some men had treated her, as if just by association with her whoremonger of a father, that she, too, was a whore.

But not this man.

This man hadn’t tried a thing. And he’d seemed to respect her.

Just as Lord Talbot gazed into her eyes searchingly, his hands gently clasping her back, the door suddenly opened.

A chorus of squeals of dismay mixed with salacious delight filled the room.

Lord Talbot’s hold tensed and she couldn’t bear to look. But the tittering gossip forced her to glance over her shoulder.

“Lady Felicity,” bellowed Lady Flanders, one of the most notorious ton gossips. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Being ruined!” chirped the lady behind her.

“Bad blood,” someone else said loudly.

Just at that moment, a loud moan came from the body on the floor.

“Murder,” screamed Lady Flanders so violently that her feathered hairpiece trembled.

“Not at all,” Lord Talbot said tersely. “Lord Trumbold fell ill. And we were seeing to his care.”

“Demmed hussy,” muttered Trumbold.

Talbot’s grip tightened on her shoulders and his whole face seemed to grow cold.

He gazed from her to Lord Trumbold’s sprawled form and then to the ladies in the doorway. A pained understanding dawned on his face.

“Lady Felicity,” cooed Lady Flanders. “Two gentlemen at your side. . . And in a quiet corner. My, my. It was a good thing you were here to aid Lord Trumbold. But whatever were you doing with these two gentlemen. Alone.”

“Madam, that is none of your business,” she bit out. Her throat tightened and she felt sick. Desperately, she glanced up at Lord Talbot.

She hadn’t wished to trap him. But suddenly, she was hoping beyond all measure he wouldn’t leave her to twist in the wind. If he did. . . She was well and truly ruined.

That would be that. Her life as she had hoped it would be would be over.

Suddenly, Lord Trumbold pushed himself up. “Demmed good of you Talbot.”

Lord Talbot narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“To catch my fiancée,” Trumbold slurred. “When she tripped. Silly miss.”

“Fiancée?” echoed Lady Flanders.

Felicity’s stomach twisted. This couldn’t be happening.

“Mmm.” Somehow, Lord Trumbold managed to swing himself up from the floor, his face a frightening red and purple. He placed a hand to his temple. “Agreed to marry me just now and then I became overheated and passed out. Talbot here passed by and came to our aid.”

A leering grin pulled at Trumbold’s face. “Many thanks Talbot, for assisting my darling girl.”

Lady Flanders laughed. “Oh, well then. . . As long as there are wedding bells in the future. Congratulations, Lady Felicity. You’ve certainly made an interesting and advantageous match.”

Bile crept up her throat. Oh God. She was going to have to marry Lord Trumbold. And if she did, she’d go down for murder. Because she’d have to kill the blighter before she let him put his fleshy paws on her again.

She glanced up at Lord Talbot, desperately wondering why he was so silent. No doubt, he was relieved. After all, with Trumbold’s proclamation he was free.

But anger had hardened his face.

Lord Talbot pulled her tighter to him and drawled, “I do believe you hit your head when you fell, Trumbold.”

“Did I?” Trumbold asked, his eyes turning to pinpricks of hatred.

“Yes,” Talbot declared. “For you see, the lady has agreed to marry me.”

Another gush of noise, only this time shock and titillation, went up from the crowd of ladies at the door.

“Two men claiming affiance, Lady Felicity,” said Lady Flanders with a hint of venom. “What a lucky girl.”

The words should have been complimentary but Lady Flanders said them through gritted teeth, no doubt because her own daughter was facing a third Season this year with no proposal in sight.

“I am very lucky,” Felicity said defiantly. All the while, her whole body tingled with disbelief and relief.

“I say now,” growled Trumbold as he grabbed hold of the settee before the fire and pulled himself up. “Steady on. She’s mine.”

“You were dreaming, my lord,” Talbot said tightly.

“Devil take it,” Trumbold roared. “She’s mine.”

The ladies at the door went very quiet and they all seemed to lean forward as one to hear unencumbered.

“If you don’t desist your absurd claim, you and I will be meeting at dawn, my lord.” Talbot allowed the threat to hang ominously in the air before asking, “Is that your wish?”

Trumbold immediately retracted, like a bullfrog whose belly suddenly deflates. “No. No meetings at dawn.”

“I didn’t think so. Now, Lady Felicity has had quite a shock. I must take her back to her chaperone.”

There was a snort from one of the ladies which seemed to suggest whoever Lady Felicity’s chaperone happened to be was absolutely ineffectual.

Somehow, Lord Marksborough, the Marquess of Talbot, strode with her in tow in such a fashion that the ladies parted quickly to allow them to depart.

Felicity rushed after him without looking back.

As they headed down the dark hall, she tugged on his hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He stopped and whipped around. “Don’t thank me. I couldn’t let that man. . .”

Panic raced through her. He looked like a man who’d been hit in the head with a cricket bat. “But. . . You’ll marry me?”

To that, he said nothing. He merely stared down at her in the darkness. Then without another word, he turned and left her standing by herself in the lonely hall.

Chapter 4

William sat at the breakfast table, cup of coffee in one hand, news sheet in the other when the gaggle of his sisters descended in female crescendo.

Elizabeth, the youngest, skipped into the breakfast room and delivered a quick kiss to his cheek, which he happily leaned down for while keeping his eyes on the article discussing the state of affairs in France.

Mary, who was having her first Season, entered with more decorum than Elizabeth or even Jane who had already plunked herself into a seat and plucked two slices of toast for her plate.

But as Mary sat, he felt her stare.

Mary was an intelligent young lady. He adored all his sisters. They were all too clever for his good and he often wished their father was still alive so that he might be the one to usher them into the travails of this world.

But no.

And Mary, who saw him entirely as a brother, no father figure insight, started to laugh, a delightful, sound.

He wasn’t delighted.

He knew why she was laughing.

He might have come directly home from the ball last night, leaving their mother to escort them home, but he knew that word of his situation had, no doubt, spread like wildfire through the ball.

He lowered his paper. “Yes, Mary? Do you have something to contribute?”

Elizabeth chimed in a singsong voice, “William’s getting married.”

“Is it true?” Mary asked.

“Is what true?” he returned, flicking his paper straight.

“That you’ve been caught!” exclaimed Jane between mouthfuls of toast.

“Me?” William intoned. “Caught? Never.”

“But you don’t even know her!” pointed out Elizabeth, who was far too wise for a girl of nine years. “You must have been caught.”

“Do you even know what that means, Elizabeth?” William asked.

“Well, it sounds very much like fishing.” Elizabeth spread marmalade on her toast. “The lady uses bait to catch the unsuspecting fellow. Then he is caught and she reels him in, no escape. And then she eats him.”

He choked on his coffee. “How very succinct.”

Elizabeth grinned a gamine grin, her chocolate eyes sparkling. “Thank you.”

He sometimes feared for whatever fellow would marry Elizabeth. She was at once an utter charmer and a terror. He, of course, adored her with every last bit of his being. He adored all of them.

When he’d said that to Lady Felicity, he’d meant it.

“Well?” asked Jane as she took three slices of rashers.

He folded the paper. Here it was. The moment. “I haven’t been caught. I’ve sacrificed myself.”

Mary blinked then wrinkled her slightly freckled nose. “Oh, that sounds terrible.”

“Poor thing, this girl,” sighed Elizabeth with great drama.

“Why poor her?” demanded William. “I’m the one who is sacrificing.”

“And that’s it!” exclaimed Mary. “If you’d been caught she’d be quite clever, but one must feel sorry for her if you’re just doing the right thing.”

He frowned. “I confess, I haven’t given it any thought.”

“You should,” said Mary before she sipped her tea. “There’s something romantic about a fellow, especially a notorious rake like you, being caught. The lady can feel it and she is seen as quite triumphant. But you being all noble and putting your neck in the noose makes her seem a sorry sort, indeed.”

He scowled. “She’d be far sorrier if I left her to the tender mercies of Lord Trumbold.”

Mary shuddered. “Horrible old man.”

“You know him?” he asked, suddenly alert.

“All the young ladies know him,” Mary replied. “He’s notorious.”

“He’s an arse,” William said without thought.

“Now William,” his mother chastised as she breezed in, her purple gown her only relief from a mourning that had been going on for three years. “You mustn’t say such things in front of your sisters.”

“Even when they’re true,” quipped Mary.

Their mother, Lady Marksborough, sat and poured herself a cup of tea. “Especially when it’s true. Being a gentlewoman is often the art of concealing one’s true feelings.”

Jane frowned. “I don’t think I’ll make a very good gentle woman.”

“Glad I am to hear it,” said William. “I should hate to think you’d turn into one of those. . . Sheep.”

“What a thing to say, William,” his mother castigated. “Ladies must act with decorum. With propriety. They mustn’t be reproached.”

“Baaaaaaaah.” He replied.

His mother frowned. “Are you truly going to marry that Drake girl?”

“I said I would.”

His mother sniffed. “She’s a scandal. Bad blood. Her father’s mad. Couldn’t you retract? Think of your sisters.”

William put his paper down. “I said I would in front of several important women. There’s no going back.”

“I could murder Lady Flanders,” his mother huffed.

“I think there is a very long line waiting to do that honor,” Mary put in. “And I’m glad William’s going to marry Lady Felicity. Our family could use a bit of bad blood. We’re all terribly boring.”

“I’m not!” chirped Elizabeth who then turned to William. “Am I?”

“Never pet,” he soothed. “And Mary, I can’t be a notorious rake and boring. You shall have to pick.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean you,” Mary replied easily as she spread jam over her muffin. “I just meant the ladies in our family. Sheep all, as you say. We’re all fluffy and have nothing of interest to say.”

Jane snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

“I agree with Jane,” William said. “You’re far too hard on yourself. You’re not fluffy at all.”

Mary scowled and threw her muffin across the table.

He caught it and was rained on by a shower of buttered crumbs. “You see, not the action of a sheep and now Hobbs will have my guts for his mother’s garters. Jam stains on my waistcoat,” William teased.

His mother threw up her hands. “Why did it have to be a daughter of that man? If you form an alliance with that family it will be the ruin of us.”

“If I don’t it will ruin us,” he pointed out. “I’ve publicly offered. You know a gentleman can’t withdraw.”

“You think she’d sue for breach of promise?” whispered Jane as if it were the most scandalous thing in the world.

He considered Lady Felicity and the way she’d popped Lord Trumbold on the jaw then carried on as if she hadn’t stirred a curl. “No, I don’t. She’s not that kind of lady.”