Lord Grenville's Choice Read Free

precisely times like these when he needed his wife. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he must leave at once for Perceval’s funeral at Westminster Abbey.
    Stepping out into the street, he signaled a hackney coach. When his head cooled, he realized what he should have seen in the beginning. Perhaps Felicity’s father was ill. Yes, that was it, most likely. His mood softened. He would go to her later. She was terribly fond of her remaining parent.
    Realizing suddenly he had come out in his shirtsleeves, he redirected the coach back to his townhouse. Undoubtedly, he should see to his “horsey mane” as well.
    Really, it was turning into a very disconcerting day.

{ 2 }
     
    T he night before, Felicity had hastened up the stairway of her father’s townhouse, past the centuries of family portraits on the landing, down the hallway with its exhibition of Meissen porcelain, up another stairway, and had eventually approached her father’s bedroom.
    “How is he?” she had asked the Harley Street physician, Dr. Caldwell, a surprisingly young man with dark red hair and serious green eyes.
    “He is still unconscious. I believe he has had a brain seizure. We can only wait to see if he regains consciousness. I must prepare you, Lady Grenville. Even if he does return to consciousness, he may not be able to speak or even move.”
    She learned from Glover, the butler, that her father had been found unconscious in his bookroom when he had come to bring him a freshly decanted port. It had only been with the assistance of two other servants that Glover had managed to get her father upstairs to his bed. Footmen had been sent for Felicity and for the physician.
    As she spent the night by her dear father’s bed, holding his hand, Felicity was exhausted as much by the strain as by the lack of sleep. The minutes crawled slowly by, the mantle clock striking every quarter hour through the door in her father’s sitting room.
    Many thoughts agitated her tired brain. I have always known that Papa loved me. What shall I do if he dies? So many tiny reminders of his love would disappear along with his presence—the daily bouquet he sends spring and summer from his garden, his reading to Jack the way he used to read to me about all the Greek heroes, the confidence he has always had in me when my own flags. Particularly since this difficult marriage of mine.
    When the day dawned, she could not be brought to leave Papa’s side and sent word by footman to Nanny Owen that she and Jack were to remove to her father’s house. She knew Jack would not do well in her absence just as she knew her own spirits would benefit greatly from his presence. They would settle in well in Felicity’s old nursery at the top of the house.
    After her father’s condition, her most serious worry was that she was certain Alex was to see Elizabeth this morning. How would she react to his presence? How would he feel when he saw her looking fragile as ever, dressed in funereal black?
    Felicity tried to steel herself. She did not even want to imagine what heartbreak might be in her future. She had never thought Elizabeth would actually be free . She doubted Alex would even notice his wife was gone from home.
    However, after luncheon, which she had taken on a tray, she realized he would notice when Jack was gone. She composed another note to Nanny Owen, asking her to inform Alex about her father’s condition before she and Jack departed. She supposed the nanny would think it strange she did not communicate with Alex directly, but just at this moment, Felicity did not think she could tell Alex about her father’s condition herself. He and her father were not close, plus Alex would no doubt be consumed with thoughts of Elizabeth. Picturing his indifference upon reading news of her father’s illness hurt too much for her even to write of it. It was his son’s removal Alex would care about, so let it come from Nanny Owen.
    Felicity slid her hand into her father’s once more.