After instructing Serena on how to use the washboard and the wringer, Felicity rushed inside to change and make herself more presentable for a trip into Fairplay. She chose her favorite emerald skirt and blouse and matching bonnet—but not for Philip’s sake, and certainly not because he’d commented on how pretty she looked in it on several occasions.
Even so, as she rode through the thick mud and the many puddles into town and down Main Street, she hoped Philip would spot her and realize how much he liked her. Not that such an acknowledgement would do either of them any good. They would still go their separate ways. But at least he’d take the image of her at her best with him.
After parking and making her way down the boardwalk to Simpkins General Store, she tried not to be too obvious as she searched for a sign of Philip somewhere. Maybe he’d be inside the store reading the newspapers, as he so often had been over recent weeks.
What news had he been searching for? News of his homeland? Of his brother?
But as she entered the store and ordered her items, she didn’t catch sight of him anywhere. Had he already left town?
“And how are the passes?” she asked Captain Jim, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. “Has anyone dared to traverse them yet?”
“No, Mr. Berg ain’t left town yet.” Captain Jim’s loud voice carried through the store.
Felicity snorted. “Well, that’s too bad.” She tamped down her mortification at how easily the store owner had read her need for Philip. “I was hoping he was long gone by now.”
“Don’t think you’re gonna get rid of that fella so easily.” Captain Jim finished packaging the sugar she didn’t really need. “Not when he’s scared off every man from having you so that he can keep you for himself.”
The store had grown silent—so silent Felicity guessed every patron could hear the wild thumping of her heart. “That’s nonsense.”
“Ain’t nonsense at all. Had lots of fellas wanting to take that job you advertised for, but he warned every single one of them to stay away.”
At the revelation, her stomach melted into a slushy puddle just like the snow. No doubt the store owner was exaggerating, but she soaked up the words about Philip like the earth soaking up the melting snow.
After paying and offering her thanks, she made small talk with several women, catching up on how everyone had weathered the storm. Mostly she was dallying to see if Philip would arrive. But after lingering longer than was respectable, she headed out and started down the boardwalk toward her wagon.
She wasn’t ready for her time in town to be over. Maybe she should seek out her solicitor. Or perhaps she’d go to the bank and take out the money she’d need to pay Serena for her work.
“Miss Courtney?” At the call of her name from the walkway between two businesses, she paused. In the shadows of the snowy-muddy path stood a man wearing a cloak and flat black hat pulled low. He’d been in the store only moments ago—or at least she thought she’d glimpsed him.
“May I help you?” Had his voice contained a tinge of a foreign accent? An accent that sounded similar to Philip’s?
“Philip has asked me to come and get you.”
Yes, he did have an accent. Perhaps he was a companion traveling with Philip. More likely a servant, because a prince wouldn’t travel without his manservant, would he?
“He’d like to speak a few more words with you,” the man said. “If you’re agreeable.”
A few more words? Felicity’s heart gave an extra beat. After having had all night and all day to think on their relationship, had Philip changed his mind about wanting to be with her?
“Come this way.” The man waved his hand in the direction of the alley at the end of the walkway. “He’s just around the corner.”
Felicity took a step then hesitated. Something didn’t feel quite right. About the man. About his claim that Philip was waiting.
“After you.” He waved her ahead of him.
She took another step, then two, before stopping. “Tell Philip if he would like to talk, he can visit me at the boardinghouse.”
Should she extend an invitation for dinner? Surely the Kellers would love to see him again.
The man glanced past her toward Main Street, then in the next instant, before she could move, he thrust a long, sharp knife against her chest.
She released a startled half scream.
At her slight sound, he dug the tip through her cloak, pricking her. “Don’t make another sound. If you do, the next cut will be deeper.”
She could feel the warmth of blood beginning to soak into her bodice. Suddenly she knew this stranger wasn’t taking her to Philip. He had something much more sinister in mind.
His hand clamped about her arm, and he forced her toward the alley. As they rounded the corner, of course there was no sign of Philip. Instead, the fellow picked up his pace and thrust her toward a waiting horse and wagon.
Both fear and dread raced through her, and she began to drag her steps. She had to fight back now, couldn’t go anywhere with this stranger. If she did, she might never return.
Before she could grab his arm and try to dodge the knife, he shoved something else at her—a rag with the stench of a chemical saturating it. He clamped it against her nose and mouth so that she could hardly breathe.
The world began to spin around her. Whatever was on the rag was making her weak and lightheaded. If she didn’t get away from him, she was going to faint.
“Don’t worry.” The man’s low voice taunted near her ear. “You’ll get your reunion with Philip. Just not the way you planned.”
Before she could make sense of his words, blackness hovered nearer. She fought against it, against her captor. But in the next instant, the world disappeared.
19
He couldn’t go visit Felicity. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Philip placed his camera box and tripod down on the bed of his hotel room along with the bag of all the other equipment. The afternoon of photographing at one of the local ranches had occupied his time but hadn’t taken his mind off Felicity.
Nothing had taken his mind off her. Not since the moment he’d ridden away from the boardinghouse yesterday.
His stomach growled, reminding him he’d already skipped the noon meal and couldn’t miss supper—not with the waft of chicken and dumplings rising from the dining room all the way to the second floor of Hotel Windsor.
Even though he still didn’t feel like eating, he paced to the door. He needed sustenance, but he also didn’t want anything or anyone but her. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“What am I doing?” The question slipped out and contained all the agony of losing her. Not only that, but he could still see the tears on her lashes, hear the pain in her voice, and see the hurt in her eyes when she’d said she’d never be good enough for him.
The truth was, he’d never be good enough for her. Not only was he a scoundrel for deceiving her about his identity, but she was pure and innocent and kindhearted in a way he’d never been. And she cared about others more than she cared about herself, while he was selfish.
He rubbed a hand down his mouth and chin to hold back the curses at himself. He had a duty to his country—one he wouldn’t neglect. But he also had a duty to himself too, didn’t he? Didn’t he deserve some voice in his future and in his happiness?