Page 4 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

“We have arrived—“ Hettie’s words cut short as the carriage halted. “But there is a man present. He looks to be a stuffy lord, if I’ve ever seen one. When is Lord Lichfield expected to call on us?”

Mallory pressed close to the glass to gain a proper look at the man. “Father said he would send word to Tetbery when he arrived. He is in Cornwall for his cousins’ weddings and will take an afternoon to meet with us.”

The carriage door opened to reveal Felicity below.

As was proper, Aunt Hettie was handed down first, though Mallory dearly desired a hug from her friend.

“Dear girl,” Aunt Hettie greeted, placing a quick kiss to Felicity’s cheek before stepping back to appraise the woman. “You become more beautiful with each passing year.”

Another fact Mallory could not deny. Womanhood suited her friend well. Her untamable red hair now hung in perfect curls, and the blossom in Felicity’s cheeks was something altogether new. Her friend was happy, something Mallory hadn’t seen since the woman’s guardian had passed away some months before.

The footman reached up to hand Mallory down, and a joyful smile broadened Felicity’s already happy demeanor. Surely, Mallory mirrored the woman’s delight.

Mallory pointedly kept her focus on Felicity, not risking a glance to the man who stood several paces away. If Lord Lichfield were going to disregard their agreed upon stipulations for their first meeting, she would not give him the satisfaction of her notice.

However, Mallory’s intended cut did not meet its mark as the man strode forward. “I am Nicholas Harding, Duke of Wycliffe. Please allow me to welcome you to Tetbery Estate.”

Her attention instantly snapped to the man. Not Silas Anson, the Earl of Lichfield, but the man who rightfully possessed Tetbery Estate. She’d often wondered after the man who took such great pleasure in gaining Felicity’s wrath.

Hettie let loose an unladylike snort. “We have been here many times before, and never have we seen you, Your Grace, nor did Margaret, Lady Tetbery, ever mention you.”

It was a lie—a rather bold and inflammatory one, in fact.

The countess, Aunt Hettie’s dearest friend and confidante, spoke of her nephew with great praise and always the utmost affection. Her aunt was no doubt making her loyalties known to both the duke and Felicity.

Perhaps her father should have been worried over Hettie’s behavior not Mallory’s.

The duke visibly paled at the rebuff. “Ah, you see—”

Felicity glanced at Mallory, imploring her to help steer the conversation in another direction. “Nicholas inherited the estate, but he does not deign to visit us often.”

“I have many obligations that often keep me away from Tetbery.” It was the same excuse her father used to justify his absence. This bill or that bill demanded his attention in London. “But soon, Miss Fields will be joining me in London for the Season, so I am certain you shall see much of both of us.”

Actually, that would mean Mallory and her aunt would see less of Felicity, as neither journeyed to town, Season or not.

“Really?” Aunt Hettie questioned.

Felicity’s aversion to Town mirrored their own, though her reasoning was skewed from Mallory’s in a rather significant way.

“Yes—”

“No—”

“Interesting,” Hettie countered.

“I’m delighted you are here,” the duke said, though his rigid stance spoke to the contrary. “And I do hope you find the estate to your liking.”

“Thank you,” Hettie huffed. It was the same tone her aunt used when she deemed her brother was acting the pompous lord, and she need remind him things in the Hughes family would be a great deal different if she had been born male.

Mallory wanted to laugh at the man’s obviously awkward posture, and her aunt’s thinly veiled contempt for the duke. Instead, she made certain her serene smile beamed, and her manners were above reproach—as her father had demanded.

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.” Especially since you are not my intended arrived unexpectedly after nearly two days of travel, she added to herself. “I’m Lady Mallory Hughes. Miss Fields has told me much about you.”

Namely, setting the man’s leg after he fell from a tree—oh, and the frogs in his bed. It is said he cried like a babe each time.

Mallory did not allow her smile to slip as she nodded in the duke’s direction.

“All good things, I hope.” His tight grin was forced.