To Marry the Duke's Daughter (After the Masquerade) by Ashley Stormes Page B

heart desperate for company.
     
     

 
     
    Chapter
Five
    Avondale,
Yorkshire
    October
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    Heavy footsteps crunched against the
cold autumn ground and snapped Felicity from her reverie on the silver-lined
clouds. Realizing her cheeks were salty, she hastily wiped away her tears.
Her father was the only one who would follow her to the old well, and she did
not want him to see her pain when he had been in such an astonishingly cheerful
mood since their arrival in Avondale.
    “There you are,” Carlton stated as
greeting. “I’m surprised you are not in the village. You have always enjoyed
the autumn fair.” He settled beside her on the crumbling edge of the stone
well, his loosely buttoned waistcoat and dishevelled greying black hair hinting
at his means of transportation.
    She briefly offered him a wan smile.
“Did you enjoy your ride?”
    Her father remained silent for a few
moments, but she did not turn again to look at him.
    “Yes, I did,” he finally answered. He
reached across to place his hand over her arm. “Are you still thinking about
Mr. White?”
    Felicity sniffed, her nose and cheeks
red from more than the crisp air. “I look at the clouds and imagine that he is
sitting with me, pointing out shapes and patterns. He would have pen and
paper, and would compose a few lines about the manner in which the clouds dance
across the pale blue sky. He loves the serenity of the countryside, and who would
blame him? If I had survived a war I would be grateful for every moment of
peace and calm. That is why I have spent so much time outside; I am sure he is
still in London, but he wants to be where he can smell the earth and feel the
grass.”
    She chuckled suddenly, the sound
surprising them both. “I’m sure you think he is in London drinking and
carousing away with barely a pence in his pockets, but he is not that sort of
man, Papa.”
    “You barely know him, Felicity,”
Carlton murmured.
    “Because you took me from London before
he could court me!” she accused, turning to glare up at him. “I know he wanted
to. He wrote such beautiful things, Papa. Not that I need to tell you that,”
she added grimly, recalling their conversation while leaving London, when he
had confessed to reading Jonathon’s letters. “Why do you keep him from writing
to me? Even if you will not let him court me, what harm could come from a
written correspondence?”
    Carlton frowned and gave her a stern
look. “What harm? You are already infatuated with him. Furthering that
correspondence would only hurt you in the end, Felicity. We have discussed
this.”
    She groaned. “No, Papa, you have
lectured me on the evils of fortune hunters. Jonathon is not a fortune
hunter.”
    “Mr. White,” he corrected, “is in need
of a fortune. Forgive me for seeing the obvious parallels between his thirst
for money and his pursuit of you. I am only trying to protect you. By next
Season he will have undoubtedly found someone else to leech, and it will be
safe for you to return to London.”
    “Oh, Papa, what will it take for you to
see the truth?” Felicity stood and strode towards a patch of sunlight. She
closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky, savouring the gentle warmth
while the crisp breeze played with her skirts. “Jonathon loves me; I know it.”
    She heard her father sigh before he
approached her. “You are holding onto that thought as if it is your only
source of nourishment, Felicity. If you promise to eat and enjoy Avondale as
you always have before, I will consider allowing Mr. White to court you. If,
of course, he told me the truth.”
    She opened her eyes to gift him with
her sternest expression. “I knew he came to court me.”
    Carlton nodded. “Yes, he came, and I
turned him away. Even you must admit that to me, a protective father who loves
his daughter more than anything else in the world, he appears little more than
a fortune hunter.”
    “I suppose,” she grumbled, gripping the
thick