Free Felicia by Leonora Blythe Page A

simple action completely disarmed Lord Umber, and the torrent of words he was about to hurl at her died on his lips. He realized, suddenly, how vulnerable she was. His annoyance over the misappropriation of his orchids had long since evaporated, and when David had reapproached him for his appalling lack of manners, he had felt somewhat remorseful. How he wished he had not stumbled across that overturned coach.
    He glanced at Felicia and felt himself smiling at her. What a provoking chit she was, to be sure. He slowly took her hand and raised it to his lips. Brushing the back of it lightly, he said softly, “Forgive me, Miss Richards. I had not meant to cause you any unhappiness.”
    Felicia snatched her hand away, surprised by the unexpected tenderness in his voice and aware only of the tingling sensation his kiss had left—the same feeling she had experienced the first time he had kissed her. “No … no,” she managed. “It is I who should be reinforcing my apologies. I must learn to think before I speak so rashly.”
    “And I must try not to be so provoking.” His smile widened and for a moment they looked into each other’s eyes. A strange feeling spread through Felicia, and she felt herself returning his smile.
    They were still gazing at each other quietly when Dr. Ross walked up to them. He sensed the tension between them and misinterpreting it, quickly drew Felicia away. “If you do not mind, Ian,” he said briskly, “I would like a few words with Miss Richards before I take my leave.”
    “Certainly, Paul,” Lord Umber returned quietly, feeling quite shaken by his actions. “I must see to the well-being of my guests anyway.” He gave Felicia a cursory bow and turned on his heel sharply. He was thankful for the interruption, for he knew that if he had been alone with Felicia for much longer he would have gathered her into his arms and kissed her again.
    He entered the house through the French windows of his study and was surprised to see Lady Barbara standing by his desk. She turned at his footstep and gave a breathless giggle.
    “Oh! How you frightened me, Sir Ian!” she trilled. “I was looking for something to sharpen my quill with.” She held out a pen helplessly.
    “You should have asked one of the servants,” Lord Umber replied tartly, as he moved over to her and took the proffered implement. “I do believe there are one or two on duty in the hall.” His light smile took the edge off his words and Lady Barbara relaxed. It appeared that her ruse had worked, and a small light of triumph lit her beady eyes.
    She had been perturbed by his behavior toward her last night, and she had confided in Cousin Milly before they had retired that she feared his ardor for her was waning.
    She had, consequently, been quite determined to force a meeting with him this morning and had purposely risen early in order to snare him before breakfast. Cousin Milly had been horrified, but then Cousin Milly had such antiquated notions.
    “They all seemed so busy with breakfast, I did not want to make a nuisance of myself.”
    Lord Umber looked at her obliquely and hid the disdainful look these words prompted behind the quill. One thing he knew for certain about Barbara, and that was she would never give a second thought whom she bothered if she wanted something done.
    “So thoughtful of you, Lady Barbara,” he murmured. He bent over, took a knife from the top drawer of his desk, and whittled a new point on the pen. “There, I think that should suffice,” he continued. “Although I do not think you will have time to use it today. I have planned a picnic and, if we are to reach our destination before noon, we should set out as soon as breakfast is over.”
    Lady Barbara clapped her hands in delight. “Oh! What a wonderful plan! I do so love picnics. Do we ride or take our carriages?” Her busy mind was picturing the various outfits she had brought and knew that her new green velvet riding habit would be