Chapter 7

                                    

                                              


                          
It was fortunate indeed that Lord Kendall passed a great deal of time at the little house on Brook Street, because when he was elsewhere, Felicia found her thoughts turning far too frequently to topics of an unpleasant nature. 
                          
Of course, she knew the earl was an important man; in addition to the responsibility of his estates and tenants, he took his seat in Parliament very seriously, and, by virtue of his years of diplomatic service, he was a valued advisor at Whitehall as well. There were times when she didn't see him for as much as a week or two because he was required to attend dinners, meetings, and even balls that lasted until the small hours of the night, and on those occasions he spent the night at the family residence in Mayfair. But those times were rare and, for the most part, he resided at the house on Brook Street with her.

                          
When he was absent , she missed the comfortable cozes at the breakfast table, the peaceful walks in the garden, the good-natured banter over games of chess or piquet, the quiet evenings in the drawing room where anyone observing would take them for a typical married couple, engrossed in their particular occupations—typically reading for him and needlework for her—interspersed with laughter and light conversation.
                          
Not that Felicia ever aspired to be his wife. With her background, she was unsuited to be anyone's wife, let alone a countess. She rarely wasted any time distressing herself over the past misfortunes that had led her to become a kept woman. The past was what it was. Nothing could take her back to being to the innocent young girl who had been such easy prey for the depraved miscreants who had forced her into the life of a demimondaine.
                          
However, when Lord Kendall was away for days on end, Felicia found her thoughts turning to the daughter she knew existed somewhere in the world. She was three already, a toddler, walking around on unsteady legs and calling some other woman "Mama." Felicia felt a sharp pain in the vicinity of her heart at the thought of someone else raising the daughter she had carried and loved those many months. Of course, she did hope her child had been taken in by a loving family and was growing up happy and well cared for, and if that were the case, Felicia was determined to be happy for her and remain forever in the shadows.
                          
Nonetheless, Felicia's own experience as an illegitimate child taken in by indifferent parents caused her great anxiety when she brooded about her child's circumstances. Was she being properly loved and cared for? Or was she taunted with the circumstances of her birth and told that she'd been abandoned? What would become of her if her parents died or became indigent? These thoughts tormented Felicia when she was left alone too often, and it was all in vain since she was powerless to do anything about it.
                          
Her introspection came to a sudden halt as Maris rushed into the room breathing hard, still attired the dreary brown cape that was the sole outer garment in her wardrobe.
                          
"Miss Felicia!" she managed to get out. "There's news!"
                          
"Goodness, Maris," said her mistress. "Do sit down and catch your breath. Where have you been this afternoon? Mrs. Grey needed some assistance with the mending. I informed her that you were out on some errands for me, but I don't think she was at all deceived."
                          
The maid fell into the nearest chair, which creaked slightly as it absorbed her weight.
                          
"Thank ya, miss. I shoulda asked leave first, I know, but I saw as how ya were so cast down with the master away, and I had a notion ter go back ter Mrs. Beazley's place ter see if I could ferret out somethin'."
                          
Felicia's face turned white. "Oh Maris, I told you the last time you must not go back there. It's far too dangerous! Why if Mrs. Beazley should see you... or even one of the girls or the footmen..." She fell back in her chair in distress.