Trim Street was a world away from Sydney Place in terms of elegance, comfort, and society, but fortunately Bath was a small enough town that it was possible to walk most anywhere in a short space of time. Within a few minutes, Henry was knocking at the door of the Miss Danes’ little house.
He waited some time for a response. To his astonishment, the door was opened not by the maid, their only servant, but by the elder Miss Dane herself.
Gladys fixed him with an appraising gaze and did not let him in. “Very bold of you to come calling.”
“Is Miss Amelia Dane at home?” asked Henry.
“I’m afraid not.”
“It is extremely urgent that I speak to her at once.” If Henry had been at all the master of his own emotions, he would have realised that there was nothing urgent about it at all. Only the tugging in his heart filled him with the need to see her then and there. He could not allow another second to pass without setting things right with her and thanking her for the kind warning of a few days before.
Why he felt this so strongly, he could not rightly say. Poor Henry had been concerned only with the feelings and business of others for so long that, now his own heart was calling out for someone, he failed to grasp exactly what it meant.
“You will not be able to, my lord. Amelia is no longer in Bath.”
This was a juddering shock. “No longer in Bath?”
“She left on the morning mail coach. She is going home to Chapton.”
“How? Unaccompanied?”
“Not at all. Jessie, the maid, is with her. That’s all we can afford, you know – particularly at such short notice.”
“What called her away?”
Aunt Gladys’s wrinkled mouth curled upwards into a wry smile that Henry was at a loss to understand. “Nothing called her, my lord. She was sent. Sent packing by a particular piece of bad news. And now here is the Earl of Bad News himself, standing on my doorstep. I wonder what exactly it was that he has to tell my poor niece? Can’t she be left alone?”
The prospect of never seeing Amelia Dane again crashed like a clap of thunder in Henry’s head. He was stunned for a moment by the depth of emotion it wrought in him.
How could he – he of all people – stern Henry, stable Henry, cautious and responsible Henry, be contemplating the wild chase which now flashed into his mind as the only possible response? Something had changed him. He was a man entirely unknown to himself.
Apart from the tense thumping of his heart, he rather liked it.
“You say she left this morning.”
“Quite so,” said Aunt Gladys. “My lord, I hope you are not thinking of anything rash.” The tone of her voice rather suggested that rashness was exactly what she hoped for.
Henry was nothing if not obliging. “Good day,” he said, tipping his hat, and tore back up the street towards the other side of Bath, towards the stables where he kept his carriage and horses.
The cobbled streets disappeared under his feet, the honey-stone houses swept by, but the beauties of Bath were entirely lost on Henry. It was all Amelia; Amelia laughing on a street corner, Amelia holding out her hand towards him, Amelia silent and reserved after their disagreement in the forest… Amelia’s face upturned towards him as he leaned in for the kiss which he had thought better of. A kiss un-kissed which now seemed to have driven her from Bath.
He would get her back. He would follow her all the way to Chapton if he had to. Hang it all, he would follow her into the gates of hell itself.
In all this tumult of wild emotion, Henry had not allowed himself to stop for a single moment to consider why. Why was Amelia so important to him? Why was he filled with the desperate need to see her again?
The answer, of course, so obscure to Henry, would have been clear to any impartial observer. Without even knowing it, the cautious and stern and responsible earl had fallen headlong in love.
8
Amelia sat by the window in the little wayside inn and tried to enjoy the tranquillity.
It was difficult. The hazards of travelling as a single woman meant that a quiet inn was a blessing, but in truth she would have preferred a great deal of noise. In the silence, she could not prevent her mind from turning over the events of the past few days. The memories brought her more pain than her sensible nature would let her admit.
Aunt Gladys had taken one look at her after she returned from the fateful walk with Miss Fortescue and sent her to pack her things to return home to Chapton. Comfort, calm and familiar surroundings were all that was required to ease a broken heart, Gladys had assured her. She had attempted to accompany her niece herself, but Amelia would not hear of it. The benefits Aunt Gladys was receiving from the hot spring waters of Bath were too great to be given up lightly.
In her state of weak resolve and crushed spirits, Amelia had agreed to take Jessie with her on the mail coach and return to Chapton as soon as their travel arrangements could be made.
She could not say that she now regretted the decision. What good was it to stay in Bath, where every stone reminded her of the happy times spent in Henry’s company? Where she had flown, however briefly, close to the warm sun of society’s finest?
No. The regret she felt was simply over her own foolishness. She told herself so repeatedly. What had she been thinking, to imagine that a man as great as the Earl of Banfield really felt a special preference for her? She had allowed the fantasy to carry her away and was now suffering the pain of a most deserved punishment.
Jessie watched her anxiously as she failed to take even a sip of tea and ate nothing on the plate of rustic delicacies set before her.
“Are you sure you are quite well, Miss?”
The maid was thankfully ignorant of Amelia’s true affliction. She had taken it into her mind that her mistress was suffering from some uncanny illness with symptoms including a pale face, an excess of sighs, and a wan, mournful expression.
“Please do not be concerned,” said Amelia, but she did not strain to rouse herself into better spirits. She was touched by Jessie’s anxiety. Although she was too proud to admit it, it was good to have someone fussing over her.
A great clatter of hooves in the courtyard announced the approach of someone in a rush ill-suited to that unmemorable countryside stopping-place.
“Lawks!” said Jessie, looking out of the window. “That must be a very fine gentleman, whoever he is. Look at that town coach! I wouldn’t drive it so recklessly for any money. Come take a look, Miss. I swear there were sparks flying up from the cobbles when his horses came galloping in!”
Amelia smiled indulgently and glanced outside, if only to prove to Jessie that her affliction was not so terrible as to prevent her from taking an interest in her surroundings.
What she saw there froze her with a sudden spasm of terror. Jessie, oblivious, narrowed her eyes at the livery on the carriage.
“Why, Miss, isn’t that a friend of yours? I seem to remember that coat of arms from the time you went up to the Assembly Rooms.”
“It is him,” Amelia whispered, and clutched Jessie’s arm. “Quick – we must be quick – find me a way out of here that avoids the front door!”
“Miss, is there something the matter?”
“We must under no circumstances meet the earl,” Amelia hissed, pulling her back from the window and searching about frantically for some means of escape. “Come – we shall go through the kitchen!”
Of all the ill luck in the world! What could he possibly be doing so far from Bath? Amelia felt her heart race uncomfortably fast in her chest. She knew that to come face to face with the man who had unwittingly stolen her heart would be to risk bursting into tears. Curse her foolish emotions! How had she let things go so far?
Amelia vowed then and there that she would never have anything to do with love again. Never entertain the fantasy that she was admired, never allow herself to think of a man with fondness. She was too old and too plain for such fripperies. Heartbreak was the only possible conclusion.
&nbs
p; She was in the process of hustling Jessie through the kitchen door when she heard a voice behind her. A deep voice, a deceptively calm voice, a voice which sent a thrill through her treacherous spine.
“Good day, Miss Dane.”
She managed to clear the grimace from her face before she turned around. “Lord Banfield! What a pleasant surprise.”
He blinked, taken aback by her strained expression. “I hope I have not disturbed you?” He glanced quizzically at the kitchen door and her baffled servant. “You were…leaving?”
“We must be on our way before the mail coach departs,” said Amelia, proud of the brassy smile still fixed on her features. “Come, Jessie, I believe the front door may be quicker after all.”
Henry’s hand darted out and caught her arm at the wrist before she could take a single step. “Why are you leaving Bath?” he asked, in a low and urgent tone.
Amelia opened her mouth and found she had no words to answer him.
“Step outside with me,” Henry entreated. Amelia’s resolve crumbled under his piercing gaze.
“Jessie,” she began, but the maid nodded, round-eyed with excitement, to show that she understood. Henry led her out into the sun-dappled courtyard, and Jessie lagged behind at the door to the inn, offering them all the privacy they desired.
“I do not flatter myself that I know exactly why,” Henry began, once they were certain they would not be overheard, “but I have the strangest idea that you were driven from town on my account.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” said Amelia. Now that she was standing so close to Henry, close enough to see the handsome lines of his face, it was very difficult to keep her voice even. “My return home is entirely of my own making.”
“But I am troubled,” said Henry. “When I discovered that I could not hope to see you again, I was filled with the greatest dismay. Miss Dane, won’t you let me bring you back to Bath? My – my sisters will be most distressed that you have left without saying goodbye.”
“Your sisters?”
“Indeed.”
His eyes spoke the truth of the matter. Amelia did not know what to make of him. She had heard that it was often the pleasure of great lords to trifle with more than one woman at once, but she had never imagined she would be at the receiving end of such attentions – nor how exquisitely painful the experience would be.
“Your betrothed, I think, would not approve of my returning with you,” she said, steeling herself to confront the matter head-on.
The earl frowned. “My what?”
“I have heard your news,” said Amelia doggedly. “I heard it from Miss Fortescue herself. I – I wish you joy. Nothing but joy.”
“Miss Fortescue!”
“I apologise. I know it is not quite public knowledge, but –”
“Whatever gave you the impression that I was to marry Miss Fortescue?”
Amelia faltered. “She told me so herself, my lord.”
“Blast that woman! She has been trying to catch me since the day I inherited the earldom. No, I assure you, Miss Dane, I think no more of Miss Fortescue that I do of – of your aunt! Less, in fact. Your aunt, at least, is a kind and honest woman.”
“But her – her fortune – and her looks –”
Henry clasped her hands in his. “What is Miss Fortescue to Miss Amelia Dane?”
Amelia felt a smile blossom unlooked-for on her face. “I have nothing, my lord. No dowry, no fortune, no title.”
“You have me.”
She had seen that look in his eyes before. It was the soft, shining look which told her he wished to kiss her. With a great effort, she pressed a hand to his chest and held him away.
“Ah, yes,” smiled Henry. “You are quite right. Miss Dane – Amelia – I want to ask you if you would do me the honour, the very great honour, of becoming my wife.”
“There is nothing I want more in the world,” said Amelia. Then, forgetting the inn’s overlooking windows, forgetting Jessie waiting at the door, forgetting every concern which had seemed so insurmountable only moments before, she kissed him.
9
The wedding of Henry Russell, Earl of Banfield, and Miss Amelia Dane was a quiet, private affair. It took place under special licence, since the couple were not much inclined to wait, in the drawing room of Henry’s lovely house at Sydney Place. Amelia was attended by his sisters, Isobel and Caroline, each of whom wept copiously with joy. Aunt Gladys remained dry-eyed, or so she claimed, but went so far as to dab at her cheeks with a handkerchief nonetheless. The wedding breakfast was a thing of extravagance, comprising all the sweetmeats and tasty morsels Henry’s ample fortune could afford.
What Miss Fortescue made of the matter no-one could say, for she was not invited and was never again a welcome guest at Sydney Place.
Suffice it to say that the family were all exceedingly happy, that Isobel wore her purple gown without any hint of remorse, and that both Henry and Amelia were wreathed in unfashionable smiles. It was clear for all to see that they were both precipitously, outrageously, and quite recklessly in love.
Also by Gemma Blackwood
Jane needs a fiancé, and fast! Only handsome earls need apply. It’s a perfect plan – as long as love doesn’t get in the way…
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Two warring families. One forbidden love.
Lady Cecily Balfour was always taught that the Hartley men are mad, bad and dangerous to know. When she meets Robert Hartley, Earl of Scarcliffe, she makes a few additions to that list:
Stubborn. Infuriating. Handsome. Charming. Tempting.
Society expects Cecily to make an advantageous match of her father’s choosing. What can she do now that her own choice is a man she is expressly forbidden to see?
The Earl of Scarcliffe enjoys hunting, drinking, billiards, and bachelordom. Love does not feature on his list of requirements. Especially for a woman with a stubborn streak a mile wide and a penchant for riding off on his favourite stallion. And if that same woman is a Balfour? Not a chance!
But Cecily just happens to have a pair of striking blue eyes, a taste for adventure and a rapier-sharp sense of humour…
Robert’s heart is in as much danger as his head will be if they are caught together.
When Robert and Cecily defy their powerful families for love, what will they have to sacrifice in return?
Click here to read for $0.99 or free with Kindle Unlimited.
Standalones
The Duke’s Defiant Debutante
Destiny’s Duchess
Redeeming the Rakes Series
The Duke Suggests a Scandal
Taming the Wild Captain
Let the Lady Decide
Make Me a Marchioness
Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall
The Earl’s Secret Passion
The Duke’s Hidden Desire - coming soon
The Lady He Longed For - coming soon
The Baron’s Inconvenient Bride - coming soon
The Duke, the Earl and the Captain Page 16