The Duke, the Earl and the Captain

by Gemma Blackwood

  Kisses from earls were the stuff of storybooks. They happened to graceful and elegant young women in the first flush of adulthood.

  They were not meant for the likes of Amelia Dane.

  5

  Henry was losing his wits. It was the only conceivable explanation.

  What had he been thinking, attempting to kiss a proper and well-mannered woman here in the forest with their companions only a few short steps away? A single glance back from any of the rest of the party and her reputation would have been ruined. It was an unconscionable risk.

  It had simply been the expression in her eyes, the fresh sun-kissed beauty of her, the honest lack of haughty pride, which had for a moment overwhelmed his better instincts.

  He wanted nothing more than to take Amelia into his arms and kiss her until there was no strength left in his body.

  But she was a lady, not a doxy. If he wanted her, he would have to woo her properly as her status as a gentlewoman demanded.

  The way her lips hovered part-open transfixed him in the seconds after he tore himself away from the kiss. She almost looked – he could very nearly believe it – as if she had wanted him to kiss her.

  Could it be true?

  It had been such a long time since Henry had spared any time to think of romance. He had very nearly resigned himself to the role of bachelor, caretaker for his sisters, lord of the Banfield estates, and nothing more.

  Only a few hours in the company of Miss Dane and his chaste resolutions were all but forgotten.

  The sound of laughter from the trees ahead recalled him to his senses. Coughing in embarrassment, he offered Amelia his arm and they resumed their walk, each lost in their own thoughtful silence.

  Henry realised that he could hardly blame his indiscretion on the whim of one loose moment. He could identify the precise instant that Amelia had risen in his esteem from a pretty woman to the sole object of his desires. It had been her tenderness and her tactful way with Isobel on their first evening together at the Upper Assembly Rooms. She had dealt with the girl’s complaint about her dress so gracefully, assigning blame to no-one, but comforting her so effectively, that Henry had been in awe.

  Amelia seemed to understand the solution to problems he had trouble even comprehending. She was calm, she was modest, she was lovely to behold, she was kind. Better still, she was entirely unaware of her talents. So different to the coquettish ladies of the ton!

  And now he had very nearly wrecked his chances by forcing a kiss on her at an inopportune moment. Henry did not understand what had happened to him. He was not an incautious man – in fact, he was noted for his restraint.

  Kissing a woman of only a few weeks’ acquaintance in a public space was something so enormously out of his character that the only explanation he could find was that Amelia had driven him half mad.

  “Isobel is enjoying herself today,” remarked Amelia, as though nothing had passed between them but a conversation about the weather. Henry was so grateful that she had broken the silence that he almost forgot to respond.

  “Quite so.” Then, fearing that he was too abrupt, he strove to elaborate. “She has always been exceedingly active. Always rushing about the house from one place to another. It is something between pleasure and pain to sit down in a drawing room with her.” Blast! Now it sounded as though he were presenting a slice of their home life for Amelia’s consideration, as though he were trying to discover whether she wanted to play a part in it. Try as he might, Henry could not decide on a safe topic of conversation. Every option seemed fraught with hidden meaning.

  “I think that is Lieutenant McCarthy whose arm she has taken up ahead.”

  Henry was too preoccupied with the touch of Amelia’s hand on his own arm to pay Isobel and the lieutenant much mind.

  Faced with his silence, Amelia went on, “Do you think the lieutenant is a suitable companion for Lady Isobel?”

  “His acquaintance was recommended to us by Miss Fortescue. I have no reason to think him uncouth.”

  “All the same. I have noticed, once or twice, a certain look passing between the two of them – a look which does not seem exactly what ought to be between two young people. I am sure Lady Isobel is a very sensible young woman, but I cannot say that I am equally convinced of the lieutenant’s character.”

  “Have you spoken with him often?” The words came out more roughly than he intended. Henry had felt a sudden pang of jealousy, and was too ashamed of it to modulate his tone.

  “No,” said Amelia, blushing, “but the little conversation we have had does not paint him as a man of good temperament. Indeed, I find him hot-headed, foul-mouthed, and altogether something of a rogue. If I may speak frankly, I confess I do not think him at all a proper acquaintance for Lady Isobel. I wish for her sake that you would not allow a friendship to develop between the two. She is young, as you know, and may be too trusting to discern any… improper intent.”

  Henry, feeling the burn of his own improper intent, could form no thoughts on the matter. Was this intended as a subtle rebuke from Amelia? Or was she simply making conversation? His head was spinning too rapidly in her presence to take in the proper meaning of what she said.

  “Miss Fortescue is a very close friend,” he said eventually. “I trust her judgement.”

  “Of course.” Amelia spoke mildly, but her hand was withdrawn from his arm. “No, I did not mean to come between you and Miss Fortescue. Forgive me. I shall not mention it again.”

  He had offended her. That much was plain. How and why were a mystery, but offended she was. Henry turned over their last few words of conversation in his mind and found nothing upsetting beyond his nervously laggard tongue.

  It must have been the attempt at the kiss which offended her. There was no other explanation.

  The next time he tried to kiss her, it would be under the proper circumstances. He would make sure of that.

  6

  How foolish to be jealous of a man’s preference for a woman of fortune, a woman of many years’ friendship, over a poor spinster with nothing to recommend her but proximity!

  In the days after the woodland walk, Amelia tried her best to laugh over her own injured feelings. She had overstepped the line, that much was clear. The earl was nothing if not protective of his family. It had been silly of her to think that she had identified a danger which had escaped his notice. Still sillier to think he might trust her judgement over that of his dear friend.

  “I must therefore be a very silly woman,” she remarked to Aunt Gladys as they sat finishing up their needlework in the bright morning sunlight. “For I did, only for a moment, believe he might listen to me over her.”

  “I would not take that Miss Fortescue’s advice on any day of the week,” said Aunt Gladys. “She is a very fine woman – too concerned with her own fineness, in my opinion. I wouldn’t ask her to guess the price of a loaf of bread, let alone give her opinion on a young gentleman’s honour.”

  “It is a pity, though, that Lord Banfield was so offended by my censure of the lieutenant.”

  “Poppycock! You said nothing at all offensive, in my opinion.”

  “But he did not speak another word to me the whole way home! You were not there, Aunt. It was so terribly awkward between us. Just as I thought we were –” Amelia stopped just in time to save her finger from a nasty prick of the needle. “Just as we were becoming friendly with each other,” she finished lamely.

  Aunt Gladys pounced on this like a kitten on wool. “And you had given him no other reason to be unusually silent?”

  “There is nothing that springs to mind.” Amelia felt certain that her aunt had noticed the blush in her cheeks.

  Aunt Gladys narrowed her eyes. “If a great gentleman is put so very much off balance by a simple remark like that, I would hazard a guess that he is much less of a gentleman than appearances suggest.”

  “Aunt! Lord Banfield is more than gentlemanly.”

  “Well, then,” smirked Aunt Gladys. “You must
have done something else, my dear, to put him out of sorts.”

  Amelia was unconvinced. Though she had concealed the truth of what had passed between herself and the earl, she felt certain that she had shared all relevant details. It would not do to indulge in a flight of fancy and imagine that Henry was romantically affected by her.

  Amelia had managed five and twenty years without resorting to fits of foolish fantasy, and she was not about to let love get the better of her now.

  It had been two days since the earl and his sisters had paid a call. Rather than dwelling on her unexpectedly low spirits, Amelia resolved to make the most of the fine weather and take a walk. Bath was such a pretty town, with its rows of elegant houses and the golden glow of the famous Bath limestone in the sunlight. A lack of companionship was no excuse for missing her daily exercise. Her aunt insisted that she had no need of Jessie, the lady’s maid, and so Amelia was free to roam as she wished with Jessie in attendance.

  One of Amelia’s favourite places to visit was the circular parade of beautiful houses known as the Circus. A very pretty enclosed garden lay at the centre of the circle. On a sunlit day, the view of the classical façades sweeping around from every angle was a sight uplifting to Amelia’s spirits. She liked to imagine the lives of the wealthy people inside those columned buildings. People who did not need to worry over the cost of a new dress. People who might hear words of love from an earl and believe them.

  She was making her way slowly round the Circus, taking in the stylish architecture and enjoying the heat which reflected from the pavement, when she encountered none other than Miss Fortescue exiting one of the fine houses.

  Amelia debated with herself whether to bother greeting Miss Fortescue at all. There was every chance that she would be cut, ignored completely, and in that would wound her reputation in such a public space.

  Imagine her surprise, then, when Miss Fortescue came hurrying towards her with a broad, feline smile and a hand waving in enthusiastic greeting.

  “Miss Dane! How charming to see you here. I had hoped we might meet again soon, and now here you are!”

  “Good day,” said Amelia, not knowing what else to say. She was far from charmed to see Miss Fortescue, despite the warm welcome.

  “I hope you are well? And your dear auntie?”

  “Tolerably so, I thank you. Taking the waters has done wonders for my aunt’s joints.”

  “How marvellous.” Amelia was astonished to find her arm firmly linked through Miss Fortescue’s. She was being pulled down the road at a remarkable pace. “Won’t you walk with me a little?”

  Amelia saw that they had moved so quickly that they had outstripped their servants, who were chatting between themselves.

  “And how do you find Bath, Miss Dane?” asked Miss Fortescue, with every indication of completely sincerity. “As I understand it, you did not have a great circle of acquaintances when you arrived. But now you seem to be most comfortable in your friendships.”

  “I have been very lucky,” said Amelia. She wished she had a better understanding of Miss Fortescue’s intentions in questioning her so.

  “You are particularly close with the Russell family, I think.”

  “I could not call us close, Madam. We have been acquainted such a short time –”

  “But it is Lady Isobel’s efforts, is it not, which have seen you so unexpectedly at the centre of Bath society?”

  “I would never describe myself as the centre of anything,” said Amelia, laughing. Miss Fortescue did not laugh.

  “Such a sweet girl Lady Isobel is. I will be very glad when the moment comes – oh! But it is not right to speak of it yet. Still, I may depend on your silence, may I not, Miss Dane?”

  “Certainly,” said Amelia, more mystified than ever.

  “I knew I could rely upon you.” Miss Fortescue squeezed her arm as though they were old friends. “I was about to say that I will be glad when I am finally able to call Isobel my sister. We have always thought of each other in that way, you know, but recent events – you will quite understand when I do not tell you exactly what – recent events lead me to believe that our relationship will soon be made official!” She raised a hand to her pretty red mouth. “Oh! Forgive me! I have already said too much! But it will not be long now anyway – not long until all is out in the open, at last. Why, Miss Dane! You look quite pale! Have you been walking long? I hope you are not unwell.”

  “It is only the wind,” said Amelia faintly. In truth there was no wind to speak of, but Miss Fortescue did not challenge her. “I have taken a sudden chill. Thank you for your company, Miss Fortescue, but I will have to turn back and go home now.”

  “I do hope you recover quickly,” said Miss Fortescue. The smile on her face was now chiefly reminiscent of a cat as it played with the mouse in its claws. “Goodbye, Miss Dane.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Jessie let out a cry of concern when she saw the pallor on Amelia’s face. “What has happened, Miss? Here, take my arm. You must lean on me.”

  “Nothing at all has happened,” Amelia assured her. Jessie did not believe it. She steered Amelia home as hastily as she could manage, talking darkly all the while of excessive fresh air and the unhealthy smells that rose up from the river.

  Amelia allowed herself to be led along in a daze. She was glad of Jessie’s arm, for the smooth pavement felt as though it were tipping under her feet like a ship in a storm. She could not get her footing – she could not get hold of her whirling thoughts – she could barely understand what was happening to her. She was not ill, though it felt much like illness. She was not about to be sick, though the rising nausea in her stomach implied otherwise. She was not experiencing a heart attack. Whatever the terrible crushing pain in her chest made her fear, she was not going to die.

  What was the cause of all this? She could barely admit it even to herself.

  Oh, too cruel of Miss Fortescue to tell her in such a casual manner, feigning friendship even as she drove in the knife! Too foolish of Amelia to think that Henry had really wanted to kiss her in the woodland! Too, too shameful to think of all the feelings she had experienced ever since! The aristocratic line of his lips – the warm touch of his hand – the welcoming ease of their conversation – no, she had been quite deluded. All that was in the past. Worse still, it was likely a simple figment of her imagination.

  In vain, she strove to seek out a different meaning to Miss Fortescue’s words. Perhaps there was a Fortescue brother, and Isobel – but no. She had heard no mention of any such gentleman. There could be only one explanation.

  Henry and Miss Fortescue were engaged.

  The moment Amelia was safely inside the door of her own little house in Trim Street, she buried her face in her hands and began to softly sob her foolish dreams away.

  7

  “How could you have been so careless?” snapped Henry, brandishing the crumpled letter towards his sister as though it was the point of a sword. Isobel cowered away from him, holding her hands out before her –perhaps to ward away his temper, perhaps to snatch the letter back.

  “It was not carelessness! I meant to do it! I meant every part of it!”

  “Have you lost your wits?” Henry looked down at the sheet of paper buckling under his angry fingers and, in one motion, ripped it down the middle. “Writing to a gentleman without my permission! Without an engagement! Do you have any idea of the ruin which might have befallen you?”

  “Frederick is a good man –”

  “Frederick! You’re on first name terms now! What a man Lieutenant McCarthy must be, to have you throwing away all your prospects and all your reputation simply on the promise that he is a good man.” Henry dropped the pieces of letter to the floor and, seeing that Isobel was trembling, opened his arms to her. All his anger drained away. “My sweet sister. You are too innocent for this world.”

  “I am eighteen years old,” she protested, her voice muffled against his shoulder. Henry patted her head fondly and refrained from
remarking that eighteen was no age at all.

  “How long has this been going on, Isobel? Tell me honestly.”

  “Only a couple of letters. I swear. Nothing more than that.”

  “You will grow to learn that a couple of letters can do a young woman a great deal of harm.” Henry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it is my own fault. I allowed you to become close to the lieutenant. I gave you the freedom to develop a friendship where it was not appropriate. The blame is mine.”

  “Don’t say that!” cried Isobel, more distressed than when she had felt the lash of blame on her own shoulders. “Henry, you are the perfect brother! No-one could do more to keep me safe. It was my fault, mine alone!”

  “How I wish that were the case.” Henry kissed her forehead and let her go. “I am sorry that I shouted at you. It was wrong of me. I simply wanted to impress upon you the dangers –”

  “I am so sorry,” said Isobel quickly. “I do understand. I always did. It was only… the lieutenant, he was so charming, and he told me… But I know now how wrong I was. I am only sorry it took your anger to bring me to my senses. I will write to him no more.” She kissed Henry on the cheek to show that all was forgiven. “Please don’t blame yourself. There was no way you could have guessed at the scrape I was getting into.”

  Henry turned pale at those words. He felt a sharp tug in his chest as though someone had sunk a fishing line into his heart and was pulling on it from far away.

  Well, not so very far. As distant, in fact, as Trim Street.

  “I certainly should have known,” he muttered grimly. “And like a blind fool I ignored her – Isobel, I’m going out. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t leave the house without me. You and Caroline will simply have to amuse yourselves.”

  He readied himself to leave so abruptly that all Isobel could do was gape at his haste.

  “Where are you going?”

  Henry adjusted his hat and opened the front door. “I’ll tell you when I’m back.”