Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,52

in years, and you know it, reluctant though you may be to allow me to forget the actions I made when a child.”

Hell and damnation. The family meeting he had called was descending into chaos.

He cleared his throat loudly and made his announcement. “I want to marry Lady Felicity Hughes, and I need your help.”

Felicity was miserable.

She lay on her side in bed beneath the counterpane, Miss Wilhelmina against her, sleeping sweetly, her little tail curled around her body. She had not been able to sleep since Blade had escorted her to her chamber door. They had gone undetected, thank heavens. Her reputation was intact, as he had promised.

Her heart, however, was not.

It had been dashed to bits as she laid in the darkness, only her kitten’s comforting warmth and needy purrs to keep her from swirling deeper into the waters of despair. When Auntie Agatha had arrived at her chamber after eight o’clock, inquiring as to breakfast, Felicity had declined, claiming to have her courses.

Auntie Agatha had not argued. Instead, she had seen a tray of kippers and eggs sent to Felicity, which had done nothing other than make Felicity’s stomach churn. She could not abide by kippers, though her aunt swore eating them for breakfast was restorative, particularly at a certain monthly time.

Felicity had not eaten a bite. She had sent the tray away, untouched.

She did not know how she was expected to carry on, smiling and flirting, dancing and being led beneath the mistletoe, playing snapdragon and taking sleigh rides, when all she wanted was more of what she had experienced last night.

Her heart knew she could not have Blade Winter. Heavens, he had not spoken one tender sentiment to her. Had not Auntie Agatha warned her about him? Rakehells seduced and charmed, and then they disappeared into the darkness when the pleasure was over, just as Blade had.

She told herself she ought not be heartbroken over him.

But her heart had ideas of its own, and it was refusing to concede.

She sighed, giving Miss Wilhelmina’s head a scratch. “It is not fair, is it, darling? Why did he have to be so sweet and charming?”

And why had he confessed his Christian name to her?

Unless he had been lying, and they were the same words he gave all his conquests.

No. The moment the question entered her mind, she banished it, for nothing she knew of Blade suggested he was a dishonest man.

A sudden knock at her door interrupted her miserable thoughts.

“Who is it?” she asked, hoping it was not Auntie Agatha bearing a tray of cockles and anchovy next.

“It is a great number of Winter ladies,” called the crisp, patrician accents of her hostess, Lady Emilia Winter.

“Speak for yourself,” another voice said. “I ain’t no lady.”

The latter was undeniably Miss Genevieve Winter.

Felicity sat up and hastily removed herself from the bed. Miss Wilhelmina rose and stretched, then yawned. She glanced down at her gown to find it hopelessly wrinkled from the time she had spent sulking beneath the bedclothes.

Drat.

She was going to have to see all the Winter ladies looking as if she had been hiding in her chamber after being ruined the night before. Which was exactly what had happened.

She cast a quick glance at herself in the cheval, smoothed her skirts and hair as best she could, and then opened the door. The faces of seven Winter ladies stared back at her.

Lady Emilia was at the forefront, smiling in that kind, genuine way of hers. “Lady Felicity, may we come in?”

“Of course.” What choice did she have?

More importantly, what did her unexpected guests want?

One by one, they entered, Genevieve last, clad in breeches and coat. Felicity closed the door at their backs, then turned to face them all. For a moment, she feared she had been discovered, that someone had seen her and Blade sneaking through the halls in the early hours of the morning.

Her heart thumped with dread.

“Likely you are wondering at the somewhat unprecedented presence of us all in your chamber, Lady Felicity,” Lady Emilia said.

Felicity blinked. “If you are here to convince me to play more games, I fear I am not feeling spirited enough.”

“Games are all excellent fun,” Lady Prudence agreed sagely. “However, that is not the reason we are here.”

“Not all games are excellent fun,” Genevieve grumbled. “Nothing compares to a knife-throwing competition.”

Felicity gave Blade’s half sister a weak smile, recalling all too well the results, albeit unintended, of the knife-throwing competition she had inadvertently stumbled upon. “Indeed.”

“Never mind knife throwing,”