The Hope of Love - Meara Platt Page 0,9
which was working rather slowly this morning. She was speaking of him, angry that he hadn’t pursued her in all these years, and even angrier that he’d stupidly asked if the man she loved was married. The pain was right there, etched into her expressive eyes. He was the one who’d stolen her heart.
Fool that he was, he’d been unwittingly trampling it for all these years.
He wasn’t attached and had never been.
If he were to marry, it would be to Felicity.
Wanting to marry her had never been the problem.
She fancied herself in love with him, but he didn’t merely fancy her. He was deeply in love with her. He’d been in love with her from the moment she’d first smiled at him. Loved her, ached to hold her. Ached to kiss her.
But he’d been too filled with bile over his family situation to do the right thing and court her.
He’d chosen anger, bitterness, and rage over love, and it might have cost him Felicity.
Now, he’d been summoned home. What a jest! Home was where he’d been beaten and abused. Home was the cruelest place on earth to him, and he had the scars to prove it.
He couldn’t bring Felicity there.
What was he going to do about her?
Chapter Three
Felicity spent the next few days watching snow fall like a curtain over the town. It had been snowing for three days now, and the drifts were piling dangerously high. Since everyone was quite dug in and afraid to come out of their little burrow holes, she had spent the unexpectedly free hours finishing alterations to her gown, then pressing out the wrinkles and carefully storing the gown in her wardrobe to keep it good as new and ready to wear on Christmas eve.
She’d also caught up on business matters, completing her inventory and balancing her ledgers. Since there was nothing more to do, she’d picked up The Book of Love, made herself comfortable atop her bed, and started reading. No one came by to interrupt her.
Angus had been the last person to stop in and check on her.
At first, she’d quite enjoyed her idle time. But as the days wore on, she found herself running out of chores to occupy her time. She grew tired of doing nothing but reading and soon became bored and aimless. If there was magic to this book that dwelt on the science of love, she simply wasn’t finding it.
In truth, she found it hard to read many of the passages, for they were about shared experiences, family connections, and exploring one’s senses. She had no family connections. Her shared experiences were with other orphans.
As for the senses, hers were obviously awry.
Angus was the only man who had ever made her heart beat faster. She’d taken in the sight of him, the clean, manly scent of him. She loved his deep voice and light, lilting brogue that often slipped out beneath his cultured English accent.
She loved his touch.
There were times she was sure he was about to kiss her, but she was always wrong.
To make matters worse, Angus had not come by these past few days.
She didn’t know why it suddenly mattered to her. Perhaps because she saw her life passing before her very eyes and did not wish to waste another moment of living it. But how was she to start living it when the snow was piling up so high, no one dared stir from their beds?
Once the winter storm cleared, why would Angus bother with her? She’d shouted at him and practically chased him out the door the last time they were together. “Well done, Felicity. You certainly know how to entice a man.”
She had just decided to put up holiday decorations to brighten her spirits, no matter that it was a few days earlier than customary, when the bell over her front door tinkled. Her heart beat a little faster. A visitor to the shop!
She scurried to the front door. “Oh, Vicar. Is everything all right?”
She tried to mask her disappointment, but he arched an eyebrow and cast her a wry smile. “Expecting someone else?”
“No. Why would anyone dare leave their home on a day like this? I’m glad to be proved wrong. Only mad dogs and vicars would risk going out in this blizzard,” she teased. “But I’m glad you’re here. I could use the company.”
The day was obviously wretched and he looked cold. She took pity on him. “You’re shivering and wet. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, Miss Billings.