A gambler, thief and swindler. What would her mother have made of this less-than-honest daughter? Felicity shuddered to think. A disgrace … wasn’t that what Edward called her, all those years ago? Well, perhaps he was right. Felicity knew the world they lived in, understood that a woman of her age should be married and with a handful of babies to care for. A woman’s place, after all, was in caring for her family and home. Still, Felicity did not envy the world of the respectable woman. She might have taken Tom Fox’s name and found protection in the position of wife, but truly, she did not envy any woman the married state. The woman Felicity loved most in the world had married, and what had it done for her? Drained her of health, of happiness and of any independence she might have possessed. Felicity might not be respectable, but at least she was free. And if respectability was the price to pay for such a state, well, she was not unhappy with her bargain. Felicity long ago decided she would not be her mother. She was already shackled to one feckless man, and would not blindly bind her happiness to another.
A knock sounded at the door and Felicity stood in an instant. She knew it was Edward, knew it instinctively, even before the second knock sounded. He was a gentleman whose time was valuable, an Earl who needn’t bother with civility when dealing only with a common thief. The day was for the good and respectable; Felicity earned her keep at night. Perhaps it was only fitting that they spoke in the darkness.
Wrapping a dressing gown tightly about her, Felicity opened the door. ‘My lord,’ she greeted him.
For a moment he stared at her, dark eyes intense, his hand tightly gripping the frame of the door. Felicity ignored his silence, gesturing him into her room.
‘I must apologise; I am just from my bath. Please do sit.’
He looked about the room, at the worn wallpaper, the rickety chairs and thin windows, and Felicity’s face burned at the shabbiness of her abode. Still, she kept her composure. The room was neat, and tidy, and she would feel no shame in front of him for the poverty in which she lived. When she spoke, her words were clear, proud even. ‘There are chairs by the fire, my lord. Will you sit?’
But the fire was a poor one, merely a single log smoking on embers. Edward scowled at it, for the night was cold and her room frigid. Without a second thought he emptied what remained of the log pile into the grate, stoking the embers until a sizeable fire was blazing. Though it warmed the room and her cold skin, Felicity was dismayed. She was charged for every log she used; this would cost her dearly in the morning.
‘You have port?’ he asked her.
‘Whisky,’ she replied.
‘Ah, the drink of choice for the seasoned gambler.’
‘Indeed.’ Felicity almost smiled. ‘Mine is from an illicit still.’
He raised his brow at her honesty. ‘Does that make it better?’
She shrugged. ‘Cheaper. The lack of tax certainly increases its appeal; as for taste, I shall allow you to see for yourself.’
She poured out two measures, deliberately making hers the smaller. Handing him his glass she raised hers in a toast. He met it, knocking back the amber liquid.
‘And?’ she asked.
He closed his eyes briefly, biting down on his lips. ‘It certainly warms,’ he finally replied. She took a sip of her own dram.
‘That it does.’ Taking a seat, she sighed. ‘What do you want, Edward?’
‘We’re dispensing with pleasantries, I take it?’
‘I think we dispensed with pleasantries about five years ago. Around the same time you told the devil to take me and banished me from London.’
She kept the hurt and anger from her voice.
‘I could’ve had you hung for your crime,’ he reminded her. ‘I was lenient, given the circumstances.’
Ah yes, the circumstances. How differently they viewed her supposed crime.
‘On reflection, your evidence against me was flimsy at best. No judge would hang me on that,’ Felicity said gamely.
‘You tried to swindle my father of priceless diamonds,’ Edward replied. His hands were taut, his body tense. But what did she care? She decided to prod the lion further.
‘No, I offered to buy them,’ Felicity corrected, ‘and nothing is priceless, Edward.’
‘When something is too precious to lose, then it is priceless, Felicity. The Carina necklace represents the honour, love and fidelity of all Addington men, and my father … well, I will not be the earl my father was, damn him. He sold his honour, betrayed his love and abandoned his fidelity. I will not. My honour is not for sale, not at any price.’ He paused, looking at her coolly. ‘But then I don’t suppose you’ve ever brimmed with affection for anything other than the lucky turn of a card.’
Felicity thought briefly of her mother. How much silver would she give to take away the unhappiness of her life? How much gold would she give if she could have but another moment in her mother’s arms? And yet Edward thought her so free of human emotion.
In her silence, Edward carried on. ‘Besides, even if my evidence against you was weak, if the swindle couldn’t be proven, there were many others in London who would’ve testified against you. Oh yes, I investigated your background. You’ve been thieving since you were but a girl … you were quite infamous for your light fingers before you became famous for your gambling.’
Though the fire was warm, Felicity felt her body go cold. Perhaps Edward did mean to drag her before the courts, even after all these years. He’d been a powerful man when she’d first known him, with his shipping empire and self-made fortune. Now that he was an earl; his power was magnified ten-fold. He could claim that she’d stolen the shoe leather from his boots and every judge in the country would see her hang, happy to see justice served.
‘What do you want?’ she asked again, wearily.
He looked at her sharply. ‘You,’ he said. ‘My dear Mrs Fox, I want you.’
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