Maybe he needed to go now, before she awoke, before she realized he was still there and interfering in her business.
Reclining his head, he allowed himself to sink into the cushions of the chair. The truth was, he wanted to see her awake one last time before he left. And he relished witnessing her being peeved at him for staying. In fact, the prospect of a flirtatious spat with her sent his pulse spurting with fresh energy.
He closed his eyes. He’d rest for a short while, then start on the morning chores and bide his time until he finally forced himself to ride away.
*
Felicity awoke with a start, her eyes flying open. Where was she?
She could tell that she wasn’t in her bed in her room off the kitchen. Her face was resting against velvet, her legs were cramped, and her feet brushed against an armrest.
She was on the sofa. Pushing up to her elbows, she grabbed at the blankets as they slid off her body and threatened to fall onto the floor.
A flood of memories came back—those of Philip driving her to the boardinghouse and carrying her inside. He’d placed her upon the sofa and ordered her to stay there, threatening special discipline if she didn’t comply.
At the time she’d been too weary to consider what kind of special discipline he had in mind, but now her mind filled with the possibilities, particularly those that involved him carrying her just as he had before, but this time pinning her wrists together and then bending in, grazing her cheeks and chin.
The fantasy was so forbidden and unexpected that she flushed. But it didn’t matter. Philip didn’t matter. He was gone from her life.
He’d never really been in her life to begin with. Just a handsome man on the periphery.
She blinked, trying to put him from her mind and focus on what needed to be done. The soft light filtering in the windows was like that of morning. But that couldn’t be. If she’d slept most of the afternoon, then it had to be close to dusk.
Time to get up and finish all the work that Philip hadn’t been able to do. As nice as it had been for him to offer to help, she suspected that a man of his class wouldn’t know how to manage even half of what she’d listed.
Even so, he’d been right to require her to rest. She’d needed it. And now, she could feel the energy coursing through her in a way it hadn’t for a while.
She sat up and swung her legs over. In the same instant, her attention snagged upon the chair beside her and the man in it. Philip.
She froze.
His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the wing portion of the chair. With mussed hair, more errant strands than normal falling into his face, he was breathing deeply, as though he was slumbering.
Why was he sleeping? In her house? In her chair? And why hadn’t he gone back to town yet?
Whatever the reason, she wavered on the edge of the couch, uncertain whether to poke his arm and wake him up so that he could be on his way, or whether she ought to let him sleep for a little while.
At the faint throat clearing on the stairs, Felicity’s gaze shot to Mrs. Keller only to freeze again at the sight of the woman properly groomed and appearing fresher than she had in a long time, if ever.
Mrs. Keller pressed a finger to her lips and nodded at Philip. Then she glanced up the stairs as though to beckon Felicity upstairs where they could speak without disturbing him.
Felicity almost stood and announced that she refused to give Philip royal treatment. But as she glanced out the window, her thoughts came to a crashing halt. It was most definitely morning. Though the sun seemed to be hidden behind clouds, the brightness was too steady to be anything but daylight.
Did that mean she’d slept all of yesterday afternoon, evening, and night? What time was it now?
Her gaze swung to the small clock on the wall above the sideboard. It was after nine o’clock in the morning.
Ugh. How had she slept so long? She couldn’t remember ever sleeping so many hours before.
Mrs. Keller cocked her head toward the upstairs again, and this time Felicity complied. She followed the older woman up until they were just outside Mr. Keller’s bedroom, where she could keep an eye on him.
He seemed to be resting peacefully.
“What happened?” Felicity asked.
“Philip did all of the chores yesterday.” Mrs. Keller’s whisper was filled with admiration. “He even made me supper.”
“Supper? Philip?”
“Yes. Then he stayed with my husband all night and let me sleep.”
A strange shiver coursed over Felicity’s arms, causing goosebumps. “The whole night?”
“Mr. Keller adores him.”
Adores was quite a strong word. Especially in regard to Philip.
“I do believe Mr. Keller recognizes Philip, perhaps from his homeland.” She peeked into the room at her husband, as watchful as always for signs that he might be choking. “Mr. Keller emigrated before Philip’s lifetime. But perhaps he recognizes a family resemblance in Philip to an old friend.”
Felicity had already learned from Mrs. Keller that her husband had emigrated from Lapland, a Scandinavian country, many years ago. The two had met and married not long after Mr. Keller’s arrival in Boston, where they’d lived before Mr. Keller had gotten gold fever. They’d moved to the west, first to California and then, in more recent years, to Colorado. They hadn’t found much gold, but they’d enjoyed their traveling . . . until Mr. Keller had suffered an apoplexy.
Without children to turn to for help, Mrs. Keller had been doing her best to take care of her husband and manage their small home in Alma. But when funds had run low, she’d finally sold their home and land and made arrangements to move to Denver. They’d come to Fairplay to the Courtney Boardinghouse instead.
Felicity was glad the couple could find refuge with her. She truly was. But she clearly hadn’t counted on her body giving out in protest to the lack of sleep.
“If possible, we should allow Philip to rest,” Mrs. Keller whispered. “He was such a dear.”
It was clear that Philip had easily won over the older couple. He was charming when he put his mind to it—she could give him that. A part of her wanted to let him win her over too. He had stayed and helped. What kind of man would do that? Especially for an invalid like Mr. Keller.
His kindness was jarring her heart loose, and now it tumbled around her chest. But she couldn’t let it fall, not for Philip Berg. No matter how nice he’d been over the past day, he was still a wealthy man who was accustomed to playing with the hearts of women. A wealthy man who’d flirted with her for his own amusement. A wealthy man who would take what he wanted and then discard her once the conquest was over.
And the biggest obstacle of them all: he was moving on. He would leave an insignificant and unimportant woman like her behind. Because he didn’t need her. Not when he had other women waiting for him at the end of his journey—women who belonged to his class, women who fit into his life, women likely chosen for him by his parents.
Yes, she knew how such people in the upper class truly viewed women like her. She’d already had firsthand experience with rejection. In her last year of living in Pennsylvania, a group of wealthy young women she’d believed to be friends had betrayed her. And the results had hurt, enough that she’d been more than ready to leave Pennsylvania when Charity had suggested they move to the homestead they’d inherited from their uncle.