by Megan Walker
“What time is it, Mary?” I yawned.
“Just after seven, Miss Amelia,” she replied, adding a spoonful of sugar to my cup of tea.
So I’d slept for three hours. Not enough. Perhaps I’d be able to nap in the coach. I sipped my warm tea, easing out of my covers with cup in hand. A floor below us, Lord Gray’s coughing shook the air. The start of a new day, and perhaps for him, one of his last. My stomach knotted at the thought, and I lost my appetite.
“Amelia?” Clara rushed in, fully dressed, her hair perfectly curled and pinned. Her eyes were as bright as the morning sun, nearly bursting with excitement. “I’ve told Mr. Jones to ready the coach. We must be off if we are to make it in time for dinner at Sir Ronald’s house. Can you believe it?”
“I cannot.” I smiled, despite knowing the truth of Lord Gray’s confession. Any knowledge of our true circumstances would ruin the party for Clara, and she deserved a chance to create a genuine connection with Sir Ronald. Not something forced out of fear for her future. “His home must be magnificent.”
“Oh, I am sure it is. Five floors and two wings, and a library he admires. He even has a room entirely dedicated to yellow, which is his favorite color. And his holding encompasses hundreds of acres of land.” Clara’s eyes brightened as she recalled the details.
My mouth fell open, and it took me a minute to find my voice. “How do you know all of this, Clara?”
“Well, dances and dinners, of course. We escaped to the terrace a few times. And once we hid away under a grand staircase when a certain woman would not leave him alone. He is not overly fond of large parties.”
Half-laughing at my sister whose secrets were more than I possibly could have assumed, I shook my head in amazement. “This is why you’ve been so glum. Did he tell you he would write to us?”
“I am not glum. We are friends, that is all. Miss Wood, I hear, has held his affection for some time. So, no, he did not inform me of his party. But I am happy for the invitation regardless.”
“I see. Well, we shall see if Miss Wood was also extended an invitation when we arrive. It sounds to me like Sir Ronald’s interests may lie in another direction.” I shot her a pointed glance, and she scrunched her nose.
“Please don’t say such things, Amelia. I only want his happiness. Promise me you will not try to persuade him otherwise? Or meddle between us? If Miss Wood is as amiable as I have heard, then I doubt it will do any good. I am thrilled to have been invited at all.”
“Miss Wood,” I huffed. “She sounds plain.”
“Amelia.” Clara shook my shoulders with her hands. “Promise me.”
If only she knew what she asked of me. I could not lie, but I could not make such a promise either. A middle ground would have to do. “I promise to do nothing that would make you unhappy, Clara.”
Downstairs, Mr. Jones informed us that Lord Gray was feeling especially unwell this morning and was unable to see us off. I was unsurprised by his absence, but I also felt a tinge of relief. What would I say to him if these words were my last? I had little to thank him for beyond the sustenance he provided and the roof over my head. Even then, I was not entirely sure I felt grateful for that.
Mr. Jones helped us into the carriage, and just before closing our door, said, “Lord Gray asked me to wish you luck in your journey. Safe travels, Miss Moore, Miss Clara.”
“Luck?” Clara questioned as we rode out of Brighton. “I wonder why he thinks we need luck. Such a strange, peculiar man. I am glad to be away again so soon.”
“As am I.” I sighed, listening to the sounds of the squeaky coach. “I am sure he meant for our travels.” Nothing to do with our uncertain future.
“Yes, but that would imply he meant to be kind, and Lord Gray is the most unfeeling man I have ever met.” Clara tsked. “I will never understand why Mama chose him. After a man like Father. Elevating our status is not a worthy enough excuse to be tied to such a person.”
I could not disagree with her, but I had a sinking feeling that if Clara did not win Sir Ronald’s heart, I could more easily understand marrying for protection, without much say as to whom.
“Be grateful you know so little of the subject to be able to wonder on it.” I gave in to another yawn and closed my eyes. There was something about a ride in a coach, heading far away from Lord Gray with Clara as my companion and the soft sound of Mary’s knitting needles, that was so comforting and so familiar, I fell asleep every time.
We stopped at a small inn for a meal before continuing on our way, but then a few miles outside of Hampshire, Clara sat bolt upright. “My gloves! Amelia, my gloves! I took them off for lunch. I’ve left them.”
I sat up straight. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She moaned, covering her face with bare hands. “They were my last short pair.”
I took a deep breath. Our allowance was small, but gloves were a necessity. Clara couldn’t wear evening gloves during the day. “We will have to stop at a shop in town.”
“I am sorry, Amelia. How could I be so careless? Wasting money on new gloves.”
“It is an inexpensive mistake. And easily remedied,” I assured her, though inwardly I groaned too. What would happen when our reticules emptied?
A few hours later, we pulled up to a row of shops lined side by side down a broad street in the middle of a small farm town. Clara had fallen asleep in the coach, and I did not want to worry her. Our hands were nearly the same size, though it would be a miracle if the glove maker could accommodate us on such short notice. I could only hope to persuade him to sell me another person’s order at an inflated cost. Or with a hefty tip in the least.
The store was much larger on the inside than it appeared and looked as though the owner was in the middle of a remodeling. At the front, a clerk sat at a long, rectangular wooden desk, writing in a thick book. He looked up through his spectacles as I approached.
“Welcome, ma’am, I am just finishing this order. I shall be with you in a moment.”
“If you could point me in the direction of the gloves you offer, then I shall wait for you there.”
“Oh.” The man removed his spectacles, uncovering a furrowed brow. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but our glove maker has recently moved his business elsewhere. Unfortunately, I can take no further orders until our new man arrives next month.”
Would luck ever find us? I could handle disappointment, but I could not bear to see it in my sister. “I’m afraid our need is great. I must ask you to sell me anything you have on hand, sir. Anything at all. I can pay you well.”
“Well, we’ve sold quite a lot of his old things already—patterns, samples, and the like—but I think there’s one pair of sample gloves left on the table. Smaller in size, which appears to suit you, and I believe they are a fashionable beige. Just there, on the back corner table. I will assist you in a moment.” He motioned me forward, and I nodded my thanks, hurrying to the back corner of the shop.
Squeezing around a large sign, I spotted the table, my eyes searching desperately for beige fabric. Just as I approached the edge of the table, a rustling sounded directly underneath it. I drew an anxious breath, taking a step back.
A man appeared near my shoes, climbing out from below the table. My eyes widened in shock as he recovered himself. Where on earth had he come from? He bore no resemblance to a shopkeeper.
In fact, he looked quite the gentleman. A fashionable coat clung tightly to broad shoulders and a wide chest. He had a breezy air about him, with full, smiling lips and a clean-shaven jaw, his dark, wavy hair loosely drifting over his forehead. But it was his eyes that captivated me. They were the clearest green, boring into mine without reservation. The man chuckled through my scrutiny, and I burned to my ears with embarrassment. My gaze had lingered too long.
“Pardon me,” he said, a smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he dusted off his knees. “My search
led me to a pile of stray fabrics under the table. This shop is rather disorganized, is it not?”
What a strange man. The corners of my lips twitched as he ruffled his hair. “Terribly,” I responded. “Excuse me.”
Reminding myself of my goal and my limited time, I twisted around him and began sorting through the dreadfully unorganized accessories on the table.
But the man did not leave. He moved closer to me, lifting a cherry-colored ribbon from the table. An odd bubbling sensation filled my chest, and I did not like how flustered it made me.
“Perhaps I can help you find what you are looking for,” he offered, clearing his throat.
I turned, eyebrows raised in interest. “Have you seen a pair of beige gloves? I’ve been sent back for the very last pair, and I’m in a bit of hurry.”
The smile on his lips fell instantly, and I dropped my gaze to his rising hand—and the gloves he held.
“Oh, you’ve found them. You won’t mind, will you? My sister left her last short pair at an inn, and I—”
“I am sorry.” He shook his head. “But I cannot give these up. My younger sister, who is, I am sure, far more commanding and much whinier than yours, will have my head if I return without these. She’s found a spot on hers that will not do, and these happen to be just the right size.”
“A spot? That can be remedied. My sister is without gloves entirely, sir. I am afraid this little shop is our only hope of acquiring a pair before arriving at a rather important house party. Surely your sister will understand.” I held out my palm, hoping I’d pled my case sufficiently. The man had done his duty to his sister by arguing her case, but clearly Clara’s need was greater.
“I assure you she would not, unfortunately.” He flashed me a look of meaningful regret with a deep sigh, and I retracted my hand. “Allow me to offer you their value in currency as recompense for her disappointment. You seem like a reasonable woman.”
“I do not want your money, sir. And I assure you, I am not at all a reasonable woman.” I folded my arms across my chest, the ridiculousness of my last statement bringing heat to my cheeks.
The stranger tilted his head, eyes studying me, before allowing himself a light laugh. “Well, then, in that case, allow me to seek out another pair and deliver them to you. Where will you be staying?”
“If it is so easy for you to secure another pair of gloves, can you not give me the one in your hand and seek out another for yourself?” I bit my lip. I had little experience swaying men, charming them even, and if London was any judge, I failed more than I succeeded.
“I’m afraid I am pressed for time. If these gloves were not so desperately desired, I believe you would be well worth the scolding.” A teasing glint sparkled in his eyes.
The nerve of this man! Did he wish to humiliate me? I’d all but begged for his mercy and was refused, and now, mortified. What a terrible advocate I was turning out to be.
“Name your price.” I lifted my reticule, praying silently this was not a man of too great a fortune or I would make myself into an even greater fool to deny him. But how could Clara face Sir Ronald without gloves? We would be finished before we even began. “I must have those gloves.”
“You reject my money and offer me yours?” He narrowed his gaze almost pityingly. “Money is not something I have in short supply. I am sorry, but I must insist on maintaining my hold.”
I frowned dejectedly, heat flaming up my neck. I could not argue with him without risk of further embarrassment. “Good day to you,” I said, managing a brief curtsy.
Snatching a peach-colored ribbon from the table, I hurried to the front of the store. I would not return to Clara empty-handed.
“Wait,” he called after me. But I did not spare a second glance.
Just as I rounded the corner to the counter, the arrogant man quickened his pace and stole ahead of me. I imagined pushing him aside and demanding service, but he was already in conversation with the clerk. For all his charm, he was decidedly not a gentleman in the honorable sense of the word. I gritted my teeth.
After paying his fees, he took the brown paper package from the clerk and turned to me again, a gentleness touching his voice. “You must tell me where you are staying. I want to make this right for you, and for your sister.”
“You are being impertinent. I do not know you at all, sir. And honestly, after this interaction, I do not wish to.” Humiliation welled in my chest like a fire that refused to be extinguished, and I choked on the fumes.
“Allow me to change your mind. At least tell me your name.” He stepped sideways, blocking me from moving forward to the clerk with my ribbon.
“I rarely change my mind. Do not waste your time. Excuse me.” I lifted the ribbon in my hand to the clerk, but the presumptuous man grabbed my arm.
“Your name?”
“Amelia,” I said curtly. Impertinence matched with impertinence. Knowing only my Christian name would not help him find me. “My name is Amelia.”
I elbowed him aside and opened my reticule as the clerk packaged up Clara’s new ribbon.
“I hope I see you again, Amelia,” the man said.
Staring straight at the clerk, I waited for the clang of the closing door. Satisfied that the man had departed, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.
The clerk handed me a brown package. “Good day to you, miss.”
“I have not yet paid, sir.” I rolled the package over in my hands. It was much too big to contain one small ribbon.
“The gentleman added your ribbon with his others and paid for you. Good day.”
I stood, mouth agape, as the clerk returned to his paperwork as though nothing amiss had happened, and an anger rose in my chest that rivaled even Lord Gray’s foulest of moods. Who was this man? Had I not plainly told him I was uninterested in his money or his help? I bolted toward the door, furiously bent on finding him, on telling that irritable man exactly what I thought of him and his unwanted recompense.
But he was gone.
Chapter Three
“Perhaps they are poor, Amelia. His sister could well have needed the gloves more than I,” Clara said after I told her of my encounter with the stranger.
“They are not poor.” I handed her the bag of ribbons, full to the brim. Apparently, the man had been quite generous.
Clara pulled them out one by one, exclaiming over the colors and fabric and praising the generosity of the man who’d denied her what she currently needed most. It was just like a man of wealth to think he could buy a good opinion with money, as though I would easily forget his selfishness. I shook my head to rid my thoughts of him. He’d made his choice, and he was gone. And there was only one thing I could do now.
“Here.” I pinched off my buff-colored gloves, handing them to Clara.
“What are you doing? I will not accept your gloves; it is my own fault mine are gone.” Clara shook her head, scooting away from me.
“Take them, Clara. I care little for what Sir Ronald’s company thinks of me. I can hide my hands in my skirts.”
“Surely someone belowstairs will have a pair I can sew up for you, Miss Amelia,” Mary said from her corner of the coach.
“There. You see? Mary and I will sort out another pair.” I tossed the gloves to Clara, who tugged them on reluctantly.
Moments later, the coachman rapped on the roof, and we looked out the east window just as the coach drove out of the lined woods and into an expansive clearing. There in the middle of the freshly cut lawn sat a grand estate, sandy-
colored with four stories of parallel windows lining the
front, reflecting the light from the setting sun. The double doors to the house were open. Our coach pulled into the drive, and a footman hurried out.
He opened my door and helped me down, followed by Clara. Just as my nerves started to get the best of me, a beautifully dressed, ginger-head
ed woman walked out to greet us. She was elegant and fair, bearing an air of authority as she approached us.
“Welcome, ladies. You must be the Misses Moore. I am Lady Demsworth, Ronald’s mother. Ronald has told me so much about you both, and it is such a joy to have you here at Lakeshire Park.” Sincerity flowed through every word, and she reached out for us, inviting us near.
“Thank you so much, Lady Demsworth.” I urged Clara ahead, following behind her. “We are very happy to be here.”
“Yes,” agreed Clara. “What a lovely estate. Amelia and I have missed the countryside dearly.”
Lady Demsworth took Clara’s arm affectionately. “That’s right. Ronald told me you were raised in Kent. I am sure Brighton is a vastly different environment. I hope this visit is a comfortable reminder of fond memories.”
Clara smiled graciously. “Thank you, Lady Demsworth. It already is.”
“I am sure you’re both ready to dress, but everyone is so excited to make your acquaintance. Might I introduce you to the party first? We’ve kept it rather small in hopes of a casual gathering and creating an opportunity to become better acquainted with Ronald’s closest friends.”
“Of course we do not mind,” Clara said. “Mary will have just enough time to ready our things.”
I followed closely behind the two as they entered the house, comfort enfolding me like a warm, heavy blanket. I tried to place the feeling, to name the unfamiliar warmth that relaxed my heart. All I knew was that here, nestled in the middle of nowhere, I could breathe. How I hoped these next two weeks were only the beginning, that we could finally find refuge within these walls once Clara made a match with Sir Ronald.
We’d just reached the foot of the grand marble staircase when Lady Demsworth veered left. Another set of double doors, white and trimmed with gold, stood as the entrance to the bustling drawing room.
Lady Demsworth fiddled with a string of pearls around her neck as though she, too, held high hopes for these next two weeks. As we entered the room, a click of the door signaled to me that the clock had finally begun.