by Megan Bryce
Jameson arrived for dinner late as usual and slightly unkempt.
Amelia tsked. “I see the butler let you in, although I’m not sure why. Really, Jameson, you look like a madman. You’ll scare the servants away.”
He bowed to Amelia and kissed Lady Beckham on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my dears. I was lost in thought and forgot the time. Shall I freshen up?”
Amelia shook her head. “Our dinner will be charred in truth.”
Lady Beckham slipped her hand through his arm and allowed him to escort her into dinner. “Amelia exaggerates. You look a little windblown, that’s all.”
Amelia said, “Perhaps you are more distressed about that silly rumor than Robin believes. I did think it was the most expedient way of fixing the fiasco; I did not bring it up solely to hurt you.”
Dinner was served, un-charred thank heavens. While Amelia did not mind her unflattering nickname, in fact found it quite amusing, she did not actually enjoy overcooked meals. It put her in an unpleasant mood and she was feeling slightly put out already. Guilt was not an emotion she entertained overmuch and it did not sit well with her.
Robin had assured her that Jameson had been amused but it was a touchy subject. And it really had been the best excuse for his, and Clarice’s, behavior. The ton would be quick to forgive them both.
Jameson said, “I admit your audacity did shock me for a moment, Amelia. But even I must admit there are few reasons society accepts a broken engagement, especially one so close to the wedding. As always, you played the hand you were given with aplomb. I salute you, my dear.”
Amelia looked to her mother. “It is so difficult to tell when he is being serious.”
Jameson forked a perfectly cooked piece of bird and ate it with considerably more force than was necessary. It would be easy for a slightly less assured woman to believe he was imagining it to be her. If it weren’t for the diabolical twinkle in his eye, she would.
Amelia inhaled sharply. “Very well. I accept your compliment and will refuse to believe I have hurt you in the slightest. You may cease with your trickery.” She pointed her fork at him. “Do not go mucking up all my work now that you have come out of hiding.”
Jameson snorted and Lady Beckham sighed, shaking her head. “Amelia, please lower your utensil. And kindly refrain from threatening Jameson at the table.”
After dinner, they retired to the drawing room. Lady Beckham left soon after, leaving the door ajar. Jameson had been family for so long that none of them thought of him as anything but a son and brother. He was allowed liberties with Amelia that would have ruined his ex-fiancée.
He lowered himself into a chair, sipping his after-dinner drink. He watched Amelia read, comfortable in the silence. He was happy here, with her. She was fun, absurdly loyal, sometimes outrageous. He could spend every night with her and never be bored. Never be afraid of hurting her.
Jameson took a drink to fortify himself and spoke. “I have come to the conclusion, my dear dragon, that we should marry.”
Amelia looked up from her reading with her eyebrows raised. “Oh, Jameson. Do be serious.”
“I am serious.”
She eyed him and the level of his drink. “How much have you had tonight?”
“You know I never drink to excess around you. You’re much too much even when I’m sober.”
She shook her head and went back to her book.
Jameson said, “I’m serious, my dear. I think we should marry. We complement each other, as man and wife should do.”
She closed her book, set it beside her, and folded her hands in her lap. “You’ve thought of this, have you?”
“I’ve thought of nothing else all day. You pointed out yourself that I need a wife with a backbone; one who will tie me to the altar when needed. Your brother innocently pointed out today that you have the bone in question in abundance.” He laughed. “He was there to guard me from sister-peddling brothers and unknowingly peddled his own.”
Jameson realized Amelia was not hopping on board his idea when she didn’t laugh.
He leaned forward. “And my dear, I have exactly the quality you are looking for in a husband.”
“Which quality is that?”
“I have enough charm to coax you out of your murderous tendencies. Had it been in you to kill me, I would have perished a long time ago. It is a match made in heaven, my dear.”
She was silent, staring at him for a long moment, then started laughing. “I very nearly believed you were serious. Are you trying to get even with me for that rumor?”
Jameson set his drink down and lowered himself to one knee. She stopped laughing.
He had not expected her to think it was a revenge-driven joke. He hadn’t thought at all how she would react, simply assumed that she would see how right it was.
He reached for her hand and she said sharply, “Jameson, you are in danger of becoming one of my weekly proposals.”
“This is no joke, Amelia. And kindly do not compare me to those idiots. I am not here for your money or for the challenge. I am here because today the idea of marrying you struck me from out of the blue and the longer I think on it the better it sounds. I can think of a thousand reasons for marrying you and not one reason against.”
He started to get up, then looked to her. “May I get up?”
“Please get up.”
He began to pace between the sofa and the door. “If you’ll just follow my train of thought here. You’ll be doing your sex a frightful favor. Think of all the silly girls who’ll have to give up the idea of marrying me. Plus, you’ll save one lucky girl from a fate worse than death.”
“By taking it upon myself?”
“No, no. See, you know what I am. There will be no shocking realization a day after the wedding. Or indeed, the day before. Had I tried to break our engagement you would have simply grabbed my ear and frog-marched me to the altar. No painful physical violence. No tears or wailing. You would have no great expectations dashed.”
Amelia said, “Have you pickled your entire brain? Nothing left in there to decide between a good or bad idea?”
Jameson said, “And you have willingly and enthusiastically been my friend for more years than I can count. If you worry that one day you will tire of me and stab me in my sleep, you need only look at these last weeks. Not a day has gone by that we have not enjoyed each other’s company. Not only am I still alive but we are still friends. We suit, Amelia.”
“I can’t think of a single fellow who suits less than you do, Jameson.”
“You’re not following me.”
Amelia said, “I’m following you. I’m simply wondering what dark recess this madness has sprung from.”
“My dear, it’s a perfect solution.”
She threw her hands in the air. “To your problem. I can see it adding a great many more for me.”
Jameson eyed her shrewdly and sat back down in his chair. “Ah.”
“Ah? You really are most vexing. Ah, what?”
“Ah, you must have some other lucky jackanapes in your sights.” He was surprised to find that gave him a twinge of regret and he took a small sip.
“I do not have anyone ‘in my sights’. That, however, does not mean I want you there.”
“I don’t see why not. I’m quite the catch.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.
“It’s true, and I’ve been told so by more than just your mother.”
“Have you forgotten that I’ve spent the last two weeks extolling your sins to your ex-fiancée and half the ton?”
Jameson coughed. “Well, obviously I’m not the best catch for just any girl. But the right girl now. . .”
“You thought Clarice was the right girl only a few months ago.”
“And wasn’t it brilliant of me to realize she wasn’t before the wedding?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “We may want to run up to Gretna Green. I don’t seem to do well with a lot of time to think.”
Amelia said, “I’m sorry, I t
hought you said drink.”
He smiled at her engagingly and she frowned. “No. Let me put an end to this nonsense now. No. And I’ll be taking the rest of your drink with me. You have an upsetting habit of thinking you make sense.”
“See, this is why you would make me an excellent wife.”
Her eyes flashed for a moment. “But you, sir, would not make me an excellent husband. Now hand over your drink.”
“Yes, dear. Will this be a permanent situation or will I be allowed the occasional treat?”
He rose, holding the glass out of her reach.
“Jameson.”
“There is one reason I would make you an excellent husband, my dear dragon.”
“I have my own money.”
He took one large step forward, trapping her against the sofa, and bent to whisper in her ear. “That wasn’t the reason I was thinking of.” He pressed the glass into her palm. “Promise me you’ll think of my proposal when you’re not quite sober.”
A small snort escaped her. “I believe ‘not quite sober’ would be the only way I would ever accept your ridiculous proposal.”
He smiled and kissed the indentation below her ear. “Ah.”
The next morning Amelia still refused to shiver, refused to feel the frisson his kiss had caused. It was Jameson, first of all. And second of all, it was Jameson.
She might still be unmarried, but it was impossible to reach six and twenty with her dowry without being wooed. She knew what he was doing.
Idiot!
He’d always come up with the most dangerous play ideas when they’d been growing up. Dangerous and exciting.
“No, not exciting.”
Her mother looked up from her ladies’ journal. “I’m sorry, my dear?”
Amelia shook her head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
And Jameson had obviously not been thinking at all. Where had this come from? One moment they were fine friends and then he had to ruin it. A woman had to stay on her toes at all times around him but who could have foreseen this? He’d just got out of an engagement, the last thing he should be thinking about was getting into another one.
Amelia threw her needlepoint down with a sigh. Her mother peeked up again, then set her journal aside.
“Darling, what is the matter? You look quite ferocious.”
“Mama, did you sometimes want to kill Papa, or am I merely unlucky in the choice of men surrounding me?”
“Is someone unworthy pursuing you, Amelia? I know you handle most of these buffoons yourself but you are not alone. We would gladly help you.”
“I wasn’t talking about those men; I was referring to Jameson and Robin. Oh, all right– I was talking about Jameson. He is the most frustrating man, really. And I’m not even related to him. I’ve simply been stuck with him because of fate.”
Lady Beckham hid her smile. “You aren’t stuck with him because of fate. You’re stuck with him because you trailed him and Robin around incessantly when you were younger. You adopted him yourself.”
“If I was feeling less generous I would point out that you should have kept me away from him.”
Her mother nodded. “Yes, dear. I did try.”
“Well, he was so sad. Nobody else could make him laugh.”
Amelia remembered those dark days still so clearly. Her hero, her brother’s wild best friend, wild no longer. There’d been no more smiles, no more jokes. She’d done everything she could to get him to pull her hair again; she’d been outrageous and wild as he used to be. She’d pestered him and Robin had protected him, and they’d never stopped.
Her mother said, “Has he done something worse than breaking his engagement? You seemed to take that fairly well.”
Amelia looked at her sharply. “I didn’t enjoy it. I simply wasn’t that surprised about it.”
“Oh, I must admit I was. He is normally quite sensitive to the hurts of others.”
Amelia said, “Don’t you think it was better than making himself and poor Clarice miserable? I know, don’t answer that. He proposed, he should have gone through with it. It just seemed so silly from the beginning. Why in the world did he ask her to marry him? She’s just a little mouse; he would have eaten her for breakfast one morning and no one would have realized.”
Lady Beckham cleared her throat. “Well, that is behind us now. What has he done recently to raise your ire? I thought he’d been keeping home.”
Amelia looked out the window. She couldn’t tell her mother that he’d kissed her. That he’d asked her to marry him, and despite all attempts to dismiss it, he’d sounded serious. Two weeks after the fiasco with Clarice!
She continued to look out the window as she said, “He’s already looking to propose again.”
“Surprising.”
“Infuriating. I have spent considerable effort untangling his latest mess and he wants to go out and do it again!”
Lady Beckham was silent as she poured more tea.
Amelia stood abruptly, giving in to the urge to pace. “Why this sudden fascination with marriage? He seems to think it will solve all his problems, yet I only see it adding a great many.”
“Does he have a specific girl in mind? That would not be kind to Miss Underwood. Perhaps you are right, Amelia. Haste in this instance would not be prudent.”
“Jameson and prudent are not on speaking terms, I fear. I must somehow get this idea out of his head before he makes a mess I can not undo.”
Her mother did not try to hide this smile when she said, “I can not think Jameson is capable of doing anything so horrible, my dear. You do have a specific talent.”
Amelia sat abruptly, boneless in her chair. “He taxes my abilities to exhaustion.”
Her mother laughed. “You thrive in such conditions, my dear. You are never happier than when moving your chess pieces around.”
Amelia sat slumped in the chair for a moment, then straightened her spine. “Yes, you’re right. I shall simply have to make him see reason. Shan’t be too difficult, as long as he stays sober.”
She picked up her needlepoint again, focusing on the task only through sheer force of will, and wondered how she was to get rid of all the liquor in England.
Jameson arrived the next morning, his standing invitation to breakfast putting him in good stead.
“Good morning, Lady Beckham. You’re looking marvelous as always.”
“Thank you, Jameson. I haven’t seen you so early in the morning for ages. Robin won’t be around for breakfast for another hour or so.”
“I’ve actually come for the dra–, for Amelia. Is she awake?”
Lady Beckham said, “Of course she’s awake. Are you escorting her somewhere this morning?”
“I thought she might like a stroll through the green.”
Lady Beckham eyed him. “Forgive me for saying so, Jameson, but would it be prudent to stroll through the green so soon after your, ah. . .”
Amelia pushed open the door and made her way to the breakfast dishes. “It would be idiotic, as I’m sure he’s well aware. What are you doing here?”
Jameson smiled at her frown. “I’ve come to thank you for helping Miss Underwood get over her ill-advised engagement to me.”
Lady Beckham tsked. “Oh, Jameson. She would have been very happy married to you. As would any young woman.”
“No, no. Your daughter has more of the idea. I’m afraid only a fairly special girl would be able to handle me.”
Amelia scoffed. “The devil wouldn’t be able to handle you.”
He smiled. “Well, certainly something with horns and fire could.”
Lady Beckham looked at the scowl on her daughter’s face. She looked at the focused smile on Jameson’s face.
Oh, dear. This would change a few things. Now she could see why Amelia had been so agitated yesterday.
Amelia filled her plate. “The green is too public. Let’s ease you, not dump you, back into society.”
“You�
��ll have to ease me back in quickly, my dear. I’ve already accepted an invitation to the Gratham’s ball.”
Amelia’s plate hit the table with a thud. “Jameson! Can you not consult me before you go haring off? We must orchestrate your entrance with Clarice. We don’t know if she is going and I was planning on keeping the two of you separated for a while.” She shook her head. “Gratham’s will be a madhouse. A ball!”
Jameson said, “Both Robin and you have told me that Miss Underwood is fine, that she’ll be finding herself married in no time.”
“That is true, but that doesn’t mean you can act like it never happened. Let people get used to you again, let the rumors die down.” She looked to her mother. “I don’t suppose he can cancel?”
Lady Beckham shook her head. “It will be all over London by now. Lady Gratham will have the hit of the year.”
Amelia glowered at Jameson. “You make my life very difficult. Please restrict yourself to a daily visit to your club; we shall simply have to make a grand entrance work. Do you think you can restrain yourself from any other grand gestures until then?”
He bowed. “Until then, my dear. And you know I would apologize if it weren’t true that you were getting as bored with hiding as I was. No stroll through the green then?”
Amelia refused to answer such a rhetorical question and began eating quickly.
“I must go and warn Clarice. If we have any luck at all she will not have accepted yet.” She glared at Jameson. “I am not counting on it.”
Amelia arrived quite early at the Underwood’s. Too early, in fact. But it was an emergency, and she informed the butler of that when he refused to show her in.
Amelia had already won against this opponent and she knew his weakness. “She’s learned of it already, I suppose. Crying? Hysterics? The whole household in an uproar? I am always too late. One of these times I hope to get here and prevent the hullabaloo in the first place. When there is a break, please inform Miss Underwood I was here.”
She was, unsurprisingly, shown in. She was left waiting longer than she expected, but not everyone was as early a riser as she.
Clarice looked apprehensive when she entered the drawing room. “Lady Amelia? What is the matter?”
“As always, it is Jameson making a muddle of things. I am sorry to come so early, but I had hoped to arrive before any invitations were accepted and dispatched. The Gratham’s ball?”
Clarice shook her head slowly. “We can not attend. Papa had already invited a small party to dinner for that night.”
Amelia slumped in her seat, a breath escaping her. Then she laughed and straightened. “I was so sure this was going to be a catastrophe. But luck has held!”
“Lady Amelia, I am lost. What is happening at the Gratham’s ball that would have been so disastrous?”
“Jameson accepted. He’s beginning to go out in society again but nowhere you would see each other. I had planned to keep him circulating on the fringes but he jumped in without consulting me. It’s really starting to become a problem.”
Clarice looked out the window a moment before nodding. “I am not ready to see him yet. I have felt confident knowing I wouldn’t run into him, but now. . . how do I act? I can’t give him the cut direct, he’s an earl!”
Amelia said, “I quite agree. But we needn’t worry about that yet. In a few months you will be engaged again and can acknowledge him with equanimity. Oh, I’m so relieved. And in the future I will make sure we coordinate events better between the two of you.”
“I was so upset that I couldn’t attend but perhaps Grandmama is right. Sometimes things do happen for the best.”
“That’s the way to look at it. Now, I shall leave you to your breakfast. I’ll call again at a more reasonable hour to see what events you are planning to attend. I’ll keep Jameson out of your hair for as long as needs be, my dear.”
Clarice nodded unhappily. “Lady Amelia?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“He will not be coming back, will he?”
A melancholy air surrounded the poor girl and Amelia took her hand. These last weeks she had been so focused on salvaging Clarice’s social standing that she had quite ignored the hurt and betrayal the poor girl must certainly be feeling. Amelia knew those feelings well, even if she too had been forced to hide them.
They sat quietly together until Amelia whispered, “Men are louts.”
Clarice gasped, then giggled. “It’s really too bad we must put up with them.”
Amelia smiled. “I’ve often thought that a nunnery must be so peaceful. Imagine, men locked out!”
They laughed, then Clarice sighed. “But perhaps it would be a bit boring.”
Amelia patted her hand and stood to leave. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Four