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

and
he had never before been so certain that he could trust anyone. Their
backgrounds and personalities might be as different as love and war, but at
night they shared the same heart. With the stars, they could let go of
everything else and simply be. They could talk, and laugh, and be the best
versions of themselves. If they could share the days, he knew Felicity would
teach him to be gentler, more patient, and curb his tongue instead of saying
the rude words that sprang from his bitterness. She had also said things that
made her appear haughty, but only while wearing the false smile that acted as
her mask in the ton . She was a much
kinder spirit than she let on, while he was afraid he was not near as kind as
he pretended.
    The throbbing in his skull started to
subside as he pictured the stars and imagined a cool night breeze coming in
through an open window, Felicity in his arms. Her soft hair would brush
against his cheek as she snuggled closer to him, and he would brush it away
only to trace it to her scalp, and pull her head up for a kiss. He had tried
not to think about such things, fearing it would only increase his despondency,
but imaging her lips against his eased the pain.
    He would find the greatest pleasure
waking up every morning to her star-like eyes. It seemed unusual to his
rational mind for a grown man to feel so in love when the woman of his desires
was hundreds of miles away, but not a day had gone by when he did not think of
Felicity, for one reason or another. The stars were hers, but so were the
flowers and clouds. Anything that brought a smile to his lips made him wonder
if she would also smile. After every rain he wondered if she liked to search
the skies for rainbows.
    Anything sweet and pure reminded him of
her, although he knew she could be as spirited as the wildest horse. His cheek
stung every time he recalled her second punch.
    A faint smile graced his features as he
pictured her furious expression, non-grey eyes glittering with emotion. He
wanted to see her eyes glitter in such a way again, but he would much prefer
that view as a result of passion, not anger. He knew that anger was a form of
passion, but he was still thinking of her in his arms, her hair in disarray and
her full lips parted in delight as he taught her that a horse was not necessary
for riding.
    He sighed after hearing the knock
against his door, more concerned about why his brother was seeking him out than
upset at losing the temptation of imagining Felicity in the throes of passion.
    After rolling onto his back he stated,
“Come in, Gregory,” as loudly as he could manage. His voice grated against his
ears, and he rubbed his throat in an effort to improve the sound vibrating
within.
    The door clicked open to reveal
Gregory’s butler.
    “Forgive me, sir, but I thought you
might like a cup of coffee and some toast,” he murmured.
    Jonathon blinked several times, but he
knew the possibility of his eyes and ears failing him at the same time was very
slim. “Thank you, Blythe. Gregory must not be in.”
    “Lord White left London very early this
morning. He said he would be out of town for several weeks.”
    “That’s…unusual,” Jonathon managed.
Gregory hated leaving London, even for a few days. “Where did he go?”
    Blythe looked suddenly uncomfortable.
“Avondale, sir.”
    If Jonathon’s limbs had not been so
cumbersome he would have flown from the bed in a heartbeat. Instead he had to
accept the butler’s help to sit.
    “Avondale. Why?” His head started to
pound again, as if to remind him that he had had a purpose in getting drunk.
Unfortunately, the pounding made it difficult to remember any reason besides
heartache.
    “While you were indisposed last night you
told him that you love a woman by the name of Felicity,” Blythe informed him.
    “Ah.” Dimly the memories from the
previous night returned. “So he’s gone to see Avondale, and try to win her
himself.”
    Blythe nodded. “I believe so,