Rogues Gallery (62 page)

Without a second thought, Felicia pulled the bereft woman into an empty chair at their table. Since Gunter's was considered an appropriate place for unmarried men and women to meet, surely the
ton
could forgive Felicia for publicly comforting Hugh's former mistress and the mother of his illegitimate child.

Great-Aunt Aurore dug through her reticule and produced a lawn handkerchief which she handed to Marguerite. She also gestured to someone nearby, asking them to bring some tea and a pastry.

"Thank you," Marguerite said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. "You are too generous."

"Perhaps you could explain—" Felicia began. "This is all quite a shock."

"I understand, and I apologize, but I had no other choice. I am not like you, milady. I am not meant to be a mother."

Felicia's heart swelled at the praise, even if it was from someone confessing their complete lack of maternal skills. "How can you say so? Lucinda is a delightful child, so obviously she has been raised with a great deal of love."

"Oh, I do love her, more than you will know. But I cannot give Lucinda the things she needs, and deserves. Her father can provide her with all of those."

It had been a gamble to send Lucinda to a man who did not know he was a father. Felicia nearly shuddered at what could have been the outcome if it had been anyone but Hugh.

Marguerite lifted her chin defiantly. "I need things too. And it may not be right to say so, but I deserve them."

Felicia blinked. She could understand wanting something desperately, and pursuing a course of action that no one else could find sympathetic. However, she struggled with Marguerite's decision involving Lucinda.

"There was no other way to accomplish your heart's desires?"

She said it as kindly as possible, but Marguerite still cringed.

"I did not believe so, no. Yet I did not want Lucinda to see my selfishness, or worse, to become like me. She is young, so she will not remember the hurt for long."

Felicia bit back a retort. While it was an ache that might eventually fade for Lucinda, Hugh was proof that losing a parent at a young age did not disappear entirely.

"I am glad you are there to be her mother, your ladyship. I saw you with her at Astley's. She loves you already. She may not even remember me now." Marguerite fought off a fresh batch of tears. "Still, it is better this way, for both of us."

Felicia grasped Marguerite's hand, her heart breaking at the false bravado. She may not have been able to make the choice Marguerite did, but she did sympathize in a way.

"What will you do next?" Felicia asked. "If you stay here in London, it increases the chance that Lucinda will see you."

She did not want to think of the distress and confusion it would cause the little girl, seeing the mother she believed to be dead walking around the town instead.

Marguerite straightened her shoulders. "I am going with a traveling troupe, to do theatrical shows in the colonies, and later perhaps on the continent."

"It is dangerous in both places," Great-Aunt Aurore said.

"Perhaps." Marguerite gave a watery smile. "But I have already died once, you know."

"No! Do not say such things," Felicia cried out. "We will find a solution to this situation. I shall speak with Hugh—"

"No, milady, I would prefer if you did not. He will not be happy that we have met like this. I can only imagine his displeasure once he learns I lied about my death."

Felicia sighed at the truth in that statement. No, Hugh would not be at all pleased. He would see it as a betrayal of his daughter, and he could forgive just about anything but that.

Yet Marguerite needed Felicia's expertise in elopements to help spirit her out of the country, before Lucinda learned of her existence.

She looked at her aunt, wanting some advice on what to do. Great-Aunt shrugged, but her eyes were filled with sympathy, both for Felicia, and Marguerite.

Felicia opened her mouth to offer her apologies. How could she sacrifice Hugh's trust, after all she had done to gain it? Once that was lost. . .

Marguerite gazed at her hopefully. Despite the young woman claiming she was not a good mother, Felicia believed otherwise. What kind of future would Lucinda have had, growing up with an opera singer dependent on a succession of protectors? Marguerite had seen what the outcome would be and made an impossible decision, all to preserve a bright future for her daughter.

Felicia had no choice but to do the same.

Hugh rocked Lucinda in his arms, comforting her while her sobs slowly subsided. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. It caused him such anguish when his daughter cried, but it was even more distressing when she cried piteously for her mama, who was nowhere to be found.

"Dash it, Felicia," he murmured. "Where are you?"

"I am right here," she answered, from the open doorway. She rushed to Hugh's side. "What happened? Is she hurt badly?"

Hugh sagged with relief. "Her pride has suffered the most grievous injury," he admitted. "Attempting to stand on the back of her rocking horse did not achieve the same stunning result she saw at Astley's."

Felicia brushed the hair away from Lucinda's forehead and placed a tender kiss there. "You are an adventurous one. As well as exceedingly brave."

"Yes," Lucinda said with a ragged inhale. "I really am."

While Hugh was relieved his daughter had not come to harm, he could see that her bold spirit was likely to produce many more such incidents in the future. He groaned at the mere thought of it.

"Is your tummy hurting, Papa?"

"No, poppet, it is not."

"But you made a tummy hurting sound." She demonstrated for him, somehow managing to make it twice as loud as his had been. The little actress even clutched at her stomach to add to the dramatic effect.

Felicia coughed, covering her mouth, but her eyes watered from the effort of not laughing.

"My tummy is fine, but I am glad for your concern. As well as utterly astounded at your theatrical skills."

Lucinda beamed, rewarding him with a juicy kiss. He returned it with a loud smacking sound, designed to make her giggle with delight.

"I know you are feeling better, Lucinda, but I want you to go find Nurse and let her know you are to rest for a while."

Lucinda's brow wrinkled as she sought an alternate plan.

"We shall have a treat later, after your rest," Felicia said. "Something delicious to celebrate you being on the mend."

Lucinda smiled brightly at that suggestion. She climbed down from Hugh's lap, her recovery a near-miraculous one, and scampered out the open doorway while calling loudly for her Nurse.

"I had hoped to surprise you," Hugh said, sinking back against the sofa.

Felicia sat next to him, and he instantly wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, comforted by her presence. "You did, indeed."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "I meant in another fashion entirely. I had no idea Astley's had made such an impression on her."

"I did not either. Perhaps we should remove the rocking mechanism from the horse."

"And wrap her in feather pillows for the next time she attempts a daring bareback ride." He sighed. "For I have no doubt she will attempt it again, and soon."

Felicia tilted her head to look at him, her eyes shining with mischief. "Can I admit to admiring her stubbornness?"

"Only if I can admit I do as well."

Felicia snuggled closer. He could not have been more content in that moment. His life was well nigh perfect. His wonderful wife. His enchanting daughter. He was indeed the luckiest man in all the land.

"I had a surprise for you as well." Felicia's voice sounded a little nervous, not the typical brash tone he was accustomed to from her.

He leaned forward so he could look into her face.

She studied him for a moment and then blurted, "Marguerite is not dead."

***

"M
arguerite is alive? That is impossible."

Hugh could not conjure up a good reason why Felicia would utter such a thing if it were not true. Perhaps she was mistaken. There had never been an acceptable reason, or occasion, for their paths to cross in the past.

"You are certain it was Marguerite?"

"There can be no doubt it was her."

His amazement continued during Felicia's vivid recounting of being approached by Marguerite, in broad daylight, as well as the shocking announcement that Marguerite was not dead as she had made everyone believe.

"She delivered a letter saying she was dead. She made her own daughter believe she had died."

The anger began to roil in Hugh's chest. Lucinda had been afflicted, as he had, with a mother who cared so little for her child's needs. There seemed no end to this family curse of theirs.

"I regret that she chose to approach you," he said, holding Felicia a little more tightly. "It must have been unsettling."

"It was startling, more than anything. Yet I will admit I was curious to know more about Lucinda's mother."

Hugh frowned. He could not think of anything more disruptive than his wife and former mistress striking up a fast friendship. To say nothing of Marguerite trying to insert herself into Lucinda's life again. It seemed the only reason for her sudden reappearance.

"I shall speak to my solicitor in the morning, to ensure Marguerite does not trouble you in the future. It should not be difficult to get everything sorted. Perhaps another settlement will suffice."

"There is no need," Felicia said.

"Why not?" He laughed at a preposterous thought. "Did you assist her with an elopement?"

"Not precisely."

The way she drew out her answer made Hugh uneasy. What had his wife done now?

"I have assisted Marguerite with passage to America. She is
en route
to the new life she desperately wanted. One that will benefit Lucinda as well."

Hugh could not speak for a moment. In the next instant, the import of her words sank in, and he could feel his anger resurfacing. He disentangled himself from Felicia's embrace and stalked across the room.

"Why did you not consult with me? We could have arranged, before she left—" He huffed out an exasperated breath. "You denied Lucinda the opportunity to see her mother again."

"No, Hugh." She started toward him, but he crossed his arms, making her halt. "I denied her something much worse," she said, her voice soft. "The heartbreak of waiting for a parent who will never re-appear."

Hugh flinched, as if Felicia had physically pressed on the tenderest portion of his heart. The part he had shared with her and no one else.

"Surely she asked to see Lucinda."

Felicia shook her head, her eyes filled with sympathy.

He paced in front of the fireplace. The thought of never seeing his child again was too terrible to contemplate. How could anyone make that choice, except under duress? However, his parents had managed it, quite willingly, and apparently so had Marguerite.

"I cannot be entirely surprised at Marguerite's ability to abandon her child, as she has done so once already."

"Thankfully she shall not have another opportunity."

"Yes, but what I find just as dismaying is your willingness to assist her. Lucinda has need of a mother—"

It was Felicia's turn to flinch. "You still do not consider me suitable for that role."

"What I meant is Lucinda has need of a mother who has her welfare uppermost in her thoughts at all times. Instead of consulting with me beforehand, you did as you always have, convinced you can cajole me into agreeing with your rash actions afterward."

"There was nothing rash about this," she protested. "Well, I did have to act quickly, as Marguerite was desperate to leave as soon as she could. But I only did so because it would not be wise to expose Lucinda to a chance meeting with the mother she believes is dead. Surely you can agree with that."

Hugh stood there, hands on his hips, while he considered her words. He agreed it would have been ruinous for his daughter to learn, in the harshest way possible, that her mother was not only alive, but had chosen to abandon her. He shuddered to think of the lifelong emotional damage it could have caused.

"While I agree that your motives are laudable," Hugh said, "I cannot agree with your methods. When it comes to Lucinda, I must ask you to consider, at all times, how your actions will affect her wellbeing."

He was certain she would see his point, and then this skirmish could end with Felicia's heartfelt apology—followed by several pleasurable hours in their bedchamber.

"Hugh, I am at my wits' end. You persist in viewing me as Flighty Felicia, even when I am acting on Lucinda's behalf, as I was today. I do not know how to convince you of my devotion to her."

"I cannot apologize for my concerns for my child. What kind of father would I be otherwise?"

"You are the best kind of father, Hugh. Your unwavering love for Lucinda has always been—" Felicia inhaled raggedly. "It gave me hope that one day you would find room in your heart for me. But you still see me as capricious, and inconstant. I continually remind you of the hazards of love rather than its joyous possibilities."

He started across the room, panic creeping into his chest. "Felicia, if you could let me explain—"

She held up a hand, halting his advance, even though the only thing he wanted to stop were her next words.

"There is no need, Hugh. I was willing to gamble that you would understand I acted today solely out of devotion. It is maddening that you do not, and we shall move past it." She pinned him with her gaze. "But one risk I am not willing to take is that our children will grow up believing about love as you do. What kind of mother would I be otherwise?"

Hugh started to protest, but Felicia had turned away and headed resolutely toward the door. He would have given anything to have her rushing back to him, closing the distance between them, pinching him in her playful manner, kissing him passionately.

"Felicia!"

She did not hear him, for she had slipped out the door, closing it behind her without a hint of regret.