by Rose Pearson
She smiled at him then and, for the first time that evening, Oliver felt as though she were smiling at him without restraint nor hindrance. There appeared to be no sense of holding back from him, for her smile reached her eyes and made her entire face light up.
He held onto that smile for a moment, feeling his heart lift and a sense of satisfaction wash over him. They had managed to make a connection at least, however small, and for that, he was grateful. What he was meant to do thereafter, in attempting to bring her closer to him when it was clear Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton would be doing all they could to prevent him from doing so, he was not certain.
However, for the moment, Oliver decided he would be glad for her company and her willingness to sing and play for his guests. The rest of his questions and concerns could be considered later.
Chapter Eight
“I would like to call upon you if I may.”
Those words rang around Amelia’s head as she sat in the window seat of her uncle’s library, looking out at nothing in particular and letting her mind fill with thoughts of Lord Montague. Last evening had gone well, despite her determination to stay far away from Lord Montague. Somehow, he had managed to seek her out as she had taken a short walk with Lady Smithton and thereafter had offered to escort them both back to the drawing-room. Lady Smithton had not accepted, of course, for she would not want any rumors to come from the sight of her walking, arm in arm, with Lord Montague, but for Amelia, there had been no such concerns given Lady Smithton was chaperoning her. She had taken his arm hesitantly, feeling all manner of emotions and wishing she felt nothing of the sort, for he brought about such confusing feelings within her that Amelia did not quite know what to do. She had not mentioned a single word of her feelings to either Lady Smithton or Mrs. Peters, who had become very close friends in a short space of time and who would, of course, share any such insights with each other should Amelia reveal them.
Last evening, she had also had the opportunity to speak to two other gentlemen Lady Smithton had introduced her to on a previous occasion. One was Lord Robertson, who hailed from Scotland but had come to London to seek a bride, whilst the other was a quieter, yet handsome gentleman, Lord Villeroy. He was clearly a well-educated gentleman, and she had been given the opportunity to converse with him in French, which had seemed to both delight and impress him. Lady Smithton had encouraged the connection, which Amelia had been glad for, but had to admit there was no sense of connection with Lord Villeroy. He was handsome, yes, and clearly intelligent, but he very rarely asked her any questions, preferring instead to talk about his interests. Nor had he asked her to dance, asked to call on her, or even stated he hoped they might meet again very soon. Perhaps he was simply another charming gentleman who did not want to have a wife with so obvious a flaw.
“Amelia?”
She jerked in surprise, her leg twinging with pain as she swung her legs around from the window seat, so they dangled over the edge, only a few inches from the floor. “Yes?” she called, not quite certain who was seeking her but knowing the library door was open. “Uncle?”
It was indeed her uncle who came to the door, only for another gentleman to step through after him. Amelia’s cheeks flared at once as she pushed herself forward, her feet firmly on the floor as she ignored the spiraling pain that shot up her leg as she did so.
“Uncle,” she murmured, inclining her head and lowering her gaze, aware of just how quickly her heart was beating and silently wondering where Mrs. Peters was at this moment. “Good afternoon.”
“Here you are, Amelia,” her uncle said, loud enough for the words to bounce around the room. “You have a visitor.”
Amelia swallowed hard and curtsied quickly in the direction of Lord Montague, gritting her teeth against the pain that came from her action. She was well used to it by now, for it hit her every time she curtsied, but from the sharp look in Lord Montague’s eye, she wondered if he was aware of her struggle.
“And he has asked my permission to court you,” her uncle continued, making Amelia’s eyes flare with surprise, only for her to duck her head in embarrassment at his lack of propriety. Now was not the moment to speak of such things, not when Lord Montague was present, but it seemed the Earl cared very little for when and where certain remarks should be made, given he continued regardless.
“I have, of course, agreed,” he continued, waving a hand. “I was quite certain you would not have any objections, Amelia, given you have had no other callers either this Season or last!” He chuckled and looked towards Lord Montague as though this was a very humorous remark, although Lord Montague did not so much as smile, Amelia saw. Perhaps he was not as cruel as Lady Smithton believed him.
Be careful.
The warning in her head began to ring furiously as Lord Montague bowed again, smiling at her warmly. He was so very handsome and very charming indeed, but she knew all too well of his reputation. Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham would not have collaborated to make up such a story, which meant there could only be truth within it.
“I do hope you do not think badly of me for being so eager in my pursuit,” Lord Montague said as her uncle looked on, approvingly. “Ever since you played the pianoforte at Lord Burton’s townhouse I have been quite unable to remove you from my mind. The only way to resolve the struggle I have at present is to seek to court you so that my fears that another gentleman may do so before me are completely allayed.”
The Earl laughed aloud at this remark, however, making Amelia flush crimson with embarrassment.
“I do not think you need concern yourself in that regard, Lord Montague,” he said as though Amelia herself were not present. “My niece is not being actively pursued by any gentleman. I believe you are the first to take notice of her!”
Amelia closed her eyes and lowered her head, feeling tears sting in the corners of her eyes. Her uncle could be so very callous in what he said, even though she did not believe he intended to be so. He just did not think about the consequences such a manner of speaking could have on Amelia’s spirit.
“Then I will consider myself fortunate indeed,” she heard Lord Montague say, keeping her head low as heat burned in her cheeks. “And I must add that I think the other gentlemen very foolish indeed to ignore such a splendid lady as Lady Amelia. They are the fools, Lord Stockbridge. How glad I am that my own heart has been captured by Lady Amelia!”
She blinked rapidly, forcing her tears away and looking directly at Lord Montague as she lifted her head. His lips were pulled in a thin line, tight with anger, whilst his eyes shone with sympathy and understanding. Her heart began to ache, seeing him in a new light and feeling as though he might, in fact, be able to behave differently towards her as he had done with all the other young ladies of his acquaintance.
“Very good, very good,” Lord Stockbridge muttered, clearly a little thrown by Lord Montague’s swift retort. Looking all about him, he gave Lord Montage a smile. “I have a small matter of business to attend to, I am afraid.”
“But of course,” Lord Montague replied hurriedly. “I would not prevent you from returning to it, Lord Stockbridge, particularly when I did not inform you of my visit in advance.”
Lord Stockbridge smiled, then gestured to Amelia. “Pray, sit with Lady Amelia for a time, if you wish. I shall ensure her companion is brought to her, so you have no need to fear for any impropriety.” He winked broadly at Lord Montague, making Amelia cringe. “She will not force you into anything you do not yet wish to commit to, given she can barely rise from her chair without assistance!” Laughing, he slapped Lord Montague on the shoulder and then hurried from the room, leaving Amelia flushed red with mortification all over again.
“I am sorry, Lady Amelia.”
Being left alone with Lord Montague, having been spoken of in such an embarrassing manner by her uncle, and now hearing Lord Montague apologize as though he had been the cause of her uncle’s behavior left Amelia feeling entirely uncertain. She swayed for a moment, glancing at the chair
s to her left and then to the open door on her right, not sure whether she should ask Lord Montague to sit down or if she should insist he retreat to the passageway until Mrs. Peters joined them.
“Might I help you to a chair?”
He had made the decision for her, it seemed, moving forward to offer his arm and smiling at her kindly. Amelia had no choice but to accept, aware of just how heavily she leaned on him as she walked.
“Might I ask what occurred to pain your leg so badly?” he asked as she sat down. “I do not mean to be rude, and if you do not wish to share it with me, then I apologize for asking such an impertinent question.”
Given she was still embarrassed from her uncle’s behavior, Amelia sighed inwardly and decided she may as well speak openly to Lord Montague. “I fell from a tree when I was a child,” she said, not quite able to meet his firm gaze. “It was my own doing, of course.”
“That must have been very painful indeed,” he replied gently, his expression soft as she finally looked into his eyes. “I am sorry. Does it pain you often?”
She nodded, looking at him and feeling a small weight roll from her shoulders. “It does. But I am able to walk and sometimes able to dance. I must rest thereafter, that is all.”
He smiled at her, a slight embarrassment in his gaze. “Perhaps we might dance together one evening,” he suggested, his voice filled with a hopefulness that did not quite reach his eyes. Was it because he expected her to agree to it almost at once, believing she could think of nothing better than to be in his arms?
Amelia frowned, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “I could not say, Lord Montague,” she began, only just then, recalling what her uncle had said regarding Lord Montague’s intentions for her. He had come to court her, her uncle had said, had come to ask his permission which, of course, Lord Stockbridge had granted at once. She blinked rapidly, astonishment filling her all over again as she studied him. What was his intention in doing such a thing? Surely it could not be anything true? Lady Smithton had warned her Lord Montague was not to be trusted. Therefore, she would have to take Lady Smithton at her word.
“You do not care for me, I think, Lady Amelia.”
His honesty surprised her, leaving her struggling to respond honestly.
“I should have spoken to you before I spoke to your uncle, I suppose,” he continued, looking at her with a somewhat apologetic gaze. “But I feared you would refuse me. I can tell Lady Smithton does not wish for you to engage with me.”
“Perhaps she is wise enough to know it might be only a fleeting encounter,” Amelia challenged, finally finding enough courage within her to speak as openly and as honestly as he had done. “You cannot imagine I am unaware of your reputation, Lord Montague.” She swallowed quickly, her throat a little dry as she forced herself to speak without hesitation, stating things as clearly as she could. “I know very well what it is you incline yourself towards, Lord Montague.”
Much to her surprise, he flushed and dropped his gaze. “I could not imagine you did not know of it,” he answered, his voice low. “And I can well understand Lady Smithton would urge you to stay far from me, Lady Amelia. And yet, I must hope within that, there is a slight hesitation in your mind over me.”
A little flushed herself, given her honesty in her speech, Amelia paused before she answered, knowing what Lord Montague was hoping for but finding she was not quite able to give him what he desired. “I trust Lady Smithton’s judgment,” she answered slowly. “And I do intend to follow it.”
“So you will not accept my courtship,” he stated, sounding more than a little disappointed. “You will not even give me the opportunity to prove myself?”
Amelia was about to open her mouth and state that no, she could not give him the chance to prove himself, only to find there was something sticking in her throat, something preventing her from doing just what she intended. She knew she ought to insist there could be no courtship, no furthering of their acquaintance, but the look in his eyes and the expectant hope in his expression prevented her from doing so.
“I would have preferred you had asked me at the first, Lord Montague,” she said, thinking about what she had to do. “In speaking to my uncle, I will now find it very difficult indeed to refuse you.”
“Then allow me to court you for a short time,” he said eagerly, sitting forward in his chair as though to convince her by his earnestness. “If we do not suit or if I prove myself to be the rogue you believe me to be—a reputation I know I have earned—then I will tell your uncle I have decided it cannot be.” He smiled and shrugged. “I will take the blame for it all. I will tell him of my reputation, if he is not aware of it already, and will state I don’t think we will suit. Will that allay some of your fears?”
Amelia bit her lip, knowing there was a good deal more to what Lord Montague was proposing than he realized. Given she was affected by his presence, she could not be certain that being courted by him would not give rise to further feelings, which she would then have to continue to battle in order to remove him from her heart and mind completely. Besides which, it was not what Lady Smithton would advise, and Amelia knew very well Lady Smithton’s considerations were worth a very great deal.
“It seems I have no choice but to accept,” she said slowly, hating that her heart turned over at her decision, that her spirits lifted higher than before. “But I will be on my guard against you, Lord Montague,” she finished, trying to bring as much determination to her own heart as to her voice. “I must believe you are just as much the rogue as ever, and your intentions towards me may not be as they seem.”
Lord Montague looked distinctly uncomfortable at this remark and dropped his gaze, running one hand through his fair hair before nodding, clearing his throat as he did so.
“Very well,” he murmured, just as a maid walked into the room bearing a tray which held a teapot, cups and saucers, and a few small delicacies. “I thank you, Lady Amelia, and hope I might prove myself to you in the days and weeks to follow.”
“I hope so also,” Amelia found herself replying without having had any intention of saying anything of the sort. Realizing she had betrayed herself, she tried to focus on the maid and the tea tray, praying he would not notice her reddening cheeks. “Might you send for Mrs. Peters also, please?”
The maid nodded, bobbed a quick curtsy, and scurried from the room, leaving Amelia with the distinct impression that her uncle had not managed to inform Mrs. Peters of Lord Montague’s arrival—possibly deliberately so. Praying it would not be long before Mrs. Peters joined them, Amelia began to pour the tea, keeping her eyes off Lord Montague and focusing entirely on the task at hand.
“Goodness gracious, what is the meaning of this?”
Amelia looked up at once, the color draining from her cheeks as she saw the horrified expression on Mrs. Peters face as she hurried into the library.
“Mrs. Peters, thank you for joining us,” she began, as Mrs. Peters eyes, still wide, turned towards her. “My uncle said he would send for you, but perhaps he forgot to do so, given he was busy with some very pressing matters.” Amelia looked pointedly at Mrs. Peters, hoping she would understand, and thankfully saw Mrs. Peters give the tiniest of nods. “There is more I must tell you, but for the present, might you join us for tea? I would be glad for your company, Mrs. Peters.”
“As would I,” Lord Montague said, earning himself a somewhat dark look from Mrs. Peters. “I am certain we will be much better acquainted very soon, Mrs. Peters.”
Amelia gave her companion a small, apologetic smile, and thankfully, Mrs. Peters chose to sit down without further comment. Amelia knew there would be a good deal to discuss once Lord Montague had left and, from the way Mrs. Peters had reacted to Lord Montague’s presence, Amelia felt uncertain as to how Lady Smithton would respond to her very sudden and unexpected news. Part of her began to dread speaking to Lady Smithton again, to explain to her what had occurred. Would she be angry with her for going against her wise counsel? Reprimand her for was
ting her time when it was clear she had suitors willing to look at her, regardless of her limp? Or would she understand Amelia had been in a difficult situation, what with Lord Montague going to her uncle first? Swallowing hard and feeling nothing but doubt and uncertainty, Amelia handed the cup of tea to Lord Montague and gestured for him to help himself to the cakes set out before him. She now longed for this visit to be over so that she might speak candidly to Mrs. Peters, in preparation for what she would have to then say to Lady Smithton.
“I came to you just as soon as I could.”
Amelia pressed her lips together tightly to force herself not to say another word. Lady Smithton was staring at her as though she had never seen Amelia before in her life, her face a little pale and her eyes lacking their usual sparkle. Having told Lady Smithton that Lord Montague was now to court her, it seemed the astonishment of Amelia’s news had overwhelmed her.
“I have spoken to the Earl,” Mrs. Peters added, her voice and expression grave, “but he insists Amelia accept Lord Montague’s courtship. I did express my concern, given Lord Montague has such a dire reputation, but I’m afraid the Earl merely brushed aside my concerns and told me it was quite clear Lord Montague intended to court Lady Amelia.”
Amelia swallowed hard, wanting to state, for the second time, that it had not been her intention to accept Lord Montague, but her uncle would not have permitted her to refuse. She would not have said, however, there was a part of her that was glad for such an arrangement, a part of her that hoped Lord Montague was not about to turn around and treat her as he had done so many others. After all, said a small voice, he had not courted any of the other young ladies he had sought out, had he?
“I—I must say, this is quite unexpected,” Lady Smithton murmured, sounding quite breathless. “Lord Montague is not at all the sort of gentleman to do such a thing and yet…” She frowned, looking steadily at Amelia. “Yet, he has decided to court you?”