Dinner at Blackwood Manor was nothing like the hurried, cold meals Felicity had grown accustomed to eating in the servants' kitchen at Ashworth Manor. The dining room was a study in understated elegance—crystal chandeliers cast warm light over polished mahogany, and the table was set with china so delicate it seemed to glow from within.Adrian sat at the head of the long table, having changed from his wedding attire into evening dress that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his frame. Felicity had been seated to his right, close enough that she could catch hints of his cologne whenever he moved.She had also changed, with Annie's help, into an evening gown of deep sapphire silk that she had never seen before. When she had questioned its origins, the young maid had explained that his lordship had ordered an entire wardrobe for his new bride, all in her exact measurements."How did you know my size?" Felicity had asked when Annie delivered this information."His lordship is very observant, my lady," had been Annie's diplomatic response.Now, as she sat across from her enigmatic husband while footmen served course after course of expertly prepared food, Felicity couldn't help but wonder what else he had observed about her during his careful planning of this revenge."You're not eating," Adrian observed, cutting into his roasted pheasant with precise movements.Felicity looked down at her barely touched plate. The food was exquisite—better than anything she had eaten in years—but her stomach was still churning from the revelations in his study."I suppose I'm not very hungry," she said quietly."Nerves?" His tone was conversational, as though they were discussing the weather rather than the destruction of her family."Something like that." She took a small sip of wine, needing the liquid courage. "Tell me something, Lord Blackwood—""Adrian," he corrected. "We are married, after all."The intimacy of using his given name made her cheeks warm. "Adrian, then. If your goal was simply revenge against my father, why go through with the marriage at all? Surely bankrupting the family would have been satisfaction enough."He set down his fork and studied her with those penetrating gray eyes. "Would it surprise you to learn that I had originally planned exactly that? A quick financial ruin, nothing more.""What changed?"Adrian was quiet for so long that Felicity began to think he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice held a note she couldn't quite identify."I saw you.""What do you mean?""Three months ago, I came to Ashworth Manor personally to finalize the marriage contract with your father. I was curious, you see, about the family that had caused mine so much pain." He reached for his wine glass, his fingers tracing the crystal stem. "Your father was in his study, and your stepmother was entertaining guests in the drawing room. But you... you were in the garden."Felicity frowned, trying to remember. Three months ago would have been late spring, when the roses were just beginning to bloom..."You were on your hands and knees in the flower beds," Adrian continued, "wearing a dress that had been mended so many times it was more thread than original fabric. Your hair was falling out of its pins, and there was dirt on your cheek. But you were singing."The memory came back to her suddenly. She had been tending to her mother's rose garden—the only space in the manor that Lady Margaret allowed her to maintain, perhaps because it reminded the woman that Felicity's mother was dead and she was now mistress of the house."I watched you for nearly an hour," Adrian said softly. "You worked in that garden with such care, such tenderness, as though those flowers were precious jewels. And when you thought no one was watching, you smiled."Felicity's breath caught. She remembered that day—it had been one of the few peaceful moments she'd had in months. The roses had been particularly beautiful that season, and she had felt close to her mother's memory while tending them."I realized then," Adrian continued, "that you were as much a victim of your father's choices as my family had been. Perhaps more so, since you were paying for sins you had never committed.""So you decided to... rescue me?" There was a bitter edge to her voice."I decided," he said carefully, "that my revenge could serve a dual purpose. I could have my satisfaction against the Ashworth name, and I could remove you from a situation that no woman should have to endure."Felicity stared at him, trying to reconcile the cold, calculating man from his study with the one who claimed to have married her partially out of compassion."And what do you get out of this arrangement, besides your heir and your revenge?"Something flickered across Adrian's features—too quick for her to interpret. "I get a wife who understands that marriage is a business arrangement, not a romantic fantasy. Someone who won't expect declarations of love or grand gestures of affection."His words stung more than Felicity expected them to. "How convenient for you.""Indeed." But his voice lacked its earlier conviction.They finished the meal in relative silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts heavy between them. When the final course was cleared away, Adrian rose from his chair."I have some correspondence to attend to in my study," he said formally. "Morrison will show you to the library if you'd like to read, or Annie can help you settle into your chambers."Felicity stood as well, the sapphire silk of her gown whispering around her legs. "Adrian?"He turned back to her, one dark eyebrow raised in question."The walking stick you carried at the church, the way you stayed in the shadows... how long have you been planning this deception?""Three years," he admitted. "Ever since I learned the full extent of your father's role in my family's destruction.""Three years," she repeated softly. "That's a long time to live a lie.""Sometimes," he said, his gray eyes meeting hers across the candlelit dining room, "lies become more comfortable than the truth."After he left, Felicity remained standing beside the table, her mind reeling. She thought about the man who had just shared dinner with her—handsome, articulate, clearly intelligent, and wealthy beyond her wildest dreams. Under different circumstances, he would have been considered the perfect husband.But these weren't different circumstances. She was trapped in a marriage built on revenge and deception, wed to a man who saw her as both a pawn in his game and a victim worthy of his twisted form of salvation."My lady?" Morrison appeared in the doorway. "Would you care to see the library? His lordship thought you might enjoy it."Felicity nodded, not trusting her voice. As Morrison led her through corridors lined with priceless art and furnishings, she tried to make sense of her situation.She was no longer a servant, no longer at the mercy of Lady Margaret's cruelty. She had fine clothes, excellent food, and servants who treated her with genuine respect. By any measure, her circumstances had improved dramatically.So why did she feel more trapped than ever?The library, when Morrison opened its doors, took her breath away. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall, filled with more books than she had ever seen in one place. A fire crackled in a massive stone fireplace, and comfortable reading chairs were arranged near the windows."His lordship mentioned that you were fond of reading," Morrison said kindly. "He had several novels ordered specifically for your enjoyment."On a small table near one of the chairs, Felicity found a stack of books—all titles she had longed to read but had never been able to afford. The thoughtfulness of the gesture surprised her.As she settled into one of the chairs with a leather-bound volume of poetry, Felicity couldn't shake the feeling that there were depths to Adrian Blackwood that he hadn't yet revealed. The question was whether those hidden depths made him more dangerous or more human.Outside the library windows, night was falling over the Yorkshire moors, and in the distance, she could see lights twinkling in the windows of Blackwood Manor's many rooms.She was the lady of this house now, wife to one of England's wealthiest men. But as she opened her book and tried to lose herself in verse, one thought echoed in her mind:What price would she ultimately pay for her rescue from one prison to find herself in another?
