He dismissed her from his thoughts; he had more important things to think about. He’d heard some interesting information about planned railroad expansions the previous evening. At least something useful came out of the evening that could only be described as dull. He’d hoped they would get more interesting as he got invited to the more exclusive events, but they were just as mind-numbingly tedious. Maybe even more so as these more exclusive people were very comfortable in their elitism.
There had been a very wealthy young woman there, but she was as lacklustre as the people around her—not that he needed to marry for money, but an alliance with her family would expand his coffers and his acquaintances. It was his former self talking, he knew, from when the only thing that mattered was to make the means to restore his name and exact revenge upon the persons responsible for his family’s misery.
He was having a bit of trouble adjusting to his new and rightful position, the relentless drive to always be doing something to improve his situation was taking some time to subside. In the past, he’d been very quick to cut away anything or anyone who would not achieve for him what he required. In the past, he would never have spent an evening discussing pointless things as hunting and garden features.
If he were a man that acknowledged fears, he might be tempted to admit that he might be entertaining a fear of spending the rest of his life discussing garden features. The thought almost made him want to shiver. No, he was being outlandish, he decided. He would marry, as was expected and he would continue to elevate his position in society. A little more effort and the realm of politics would open for him—that could prove very diverting, and perhaps even profitable.
He had another event to attend this evening, a ball—not strictly something he would chose to attend, but there would be some important people in attendance, people whose influence would be invaluable. He wasn’t a masochist; however, he would go half way through the event as to miss all the awkwardness of the beginning, particularly as the young women were searching for targets for their dance cards. If he went late, their cards would be filled and he could spend his evening in the cards room.
“Supper is ready for you, My Lord,” Granson said discreetly from the door.
“Thank you, Granson,” he said and put away his documents. He certainly wasn’t going to suffer through the awful food that was served at balls, no, a proper dinner would be much better for his disposition.
He walked into the dining hall and seated himself at his usual table as the head. His evening paper was waiting for him as he liked to read while he ate.
“I swear I must be going deaf,” explained Edna Hessworth as she walked into the dining room. “I don’t hear the supper bell anymore. Growing old is such a cruel thing.”
Richard froze with his soup halfway to his mouth, while Granson rushed in.
“Miss Hessworth,” he said quickly, “are you sure you would not prefer your supper in your room? You have been very ill.”
“Nonsense, Granson,” she replied, “I am not a child. I will dine as I should. We can’t have Edward eating alone. Where is Amelia?”
“She is in her room, I believe,” Granson flustered while Richard looked on.
“Is she ill?” Edna asked.
“I don’t believe so.”
“Then tell her to present herself, her father has started already. Where are her manners?” Edna ordered. “Now man.”
Granson obviously didn’t know what to do, but decided to retreat from the room. “I will get Miss Amelia,” he conceded.
“How was your day, Edward?” Edna said turning her attention to Richard who was still holding his spoon out in front of him.
“Uhh…”
“Aunt,” Amelia said as she rushed into the room.
“You’re late,” Edna said sharply.
“We were set to dine in my room, as we agreed we would do,” Amelia said and moved toward her aunt. “Your supper is being served upstairs.”
“And leave Edward all by himself?”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said turning toward him. Addressing her aunt again, “This is not Edward, Aunt.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No, we will dine like a family as we always do,” Edna stated. “I will not tolerate slipping standards.”
“Would you like to join us?” Richard said to Amelia through clenched teeth.
She was paralysed with indecision, looking between him and her aunt. Then she smoothed her skirt down and sat down in the middle of the table between him and her aunt. Granson appeared with a maid and placements were set for the two unexpected diners.
“Now,” Edna said, “have you got plans for this evening?” She spoke to Ricard directly.
“I do,” he said with uncertainty. “I am attending a ball.”
“Oh, you’re going to the Habishfords’?” Amelia asked.
“I am.”
“You are running a little late.”
“I am aware,” he said curtly. He didn’t want discussions or comments on how he managed his affairs, but the old woman had put him in an awkward position.
“Amelia, tell you father about the party you will be attending,” Edna said with enthusiasm.
“Aunt, that is not father,” Amelia said beseechingly, but the older woman waved her nonsense away.
“You are attending a party?” Richard said with astonishment at the unexpected development. Society had obviously changed from what he knew if she was being invited to parties—perhaps by someone who is oblivious to the goings on in society.
“Yes,” Amelia said clearing her throat. “I have been invited to a dinner party on Friday.”
“And whose event will you be attending?” he asked a little more forward for what was considered polite, but he didn’t care. He was astonished that her standing seemed to have survived her complete ruination in the eyes of society.
“No one you know, I am sure,” Amelia said lifting her chin again. She was being defensive he noted. It only made him more curious as to what kind of party she was attending.
“Pray tell,” he urged.
“It is an old acquaintance of my father’s.”
Richard searched his mind; he knew much about Edward Hessworth and his acquaintances. He couldn’t think of any of them that would stick out their necks to assist her, unless they had less than proper intentions. He wondered if the girl was too artless to know if someone was trying to take advantage of her. He tried to remind himself that is was none of his concern.
“Oh?” he pressed.
“Her name is Celeste,” Amelia said defiantly.
“Oh, Celeste Bueford,” Richard said with a grin. “She certainly was an acquaintance of your father’s.” It was a development he had not expected; Edward’s old mistress inviting the girl to a dinner party. In one respect it was amusing, if not absurd.
“She is acquainted with artists,” Edna said. “Can you imagine?”
“I can, Miss Hessworth,” he said toward the older woman before returning his gaze to Amelia. “You certainly are coming up in the world.” He was being less than gracious and he knew it. He should not judge her for making her way toward her new station in life. The ton would not accept her anymore, unless she pursued some position as a backwater governess or companion; although even that was out of her reach now that she was living in his house. If she chose to enter the world of the demi-monde, what was it to him? She had to go somewhere. It could be a lucrative undertaking for a pretty girl.
“Well, I hope it will be … amusing,” he said dryly. He was surprised that she even knew Edward’s mistress. Was the man in the habit of introducing his daughter to his mistresses?
“I’m sure it will,” she said and smiled tightly to her aunt before finishing her soup.
“Now tell us about your day, Edward,” Edna said. Richard shut his eyes and wondered if he was being punished by the Fates.
Amelia really was excited about the dinner party. She was apprehensive as well, but it had been a long time since she had
attended any kind of event. She had decided that she would go and assess the situation and the company when she got there. She had no idea what to expect. She was pretty sure there would be no threat to her person, but if she felt uncomfortable, she would leave right away.
It was exciting to walk into a completely unknown situation—scary, but still exciting. At the very least it was an avenue toward a potential future and she was going to evaluate all of her options.
She chose one of her nicer gowns; although she had sold her best ones, which might prove to have been a mistake if this group turned out to be welcoming and tolerable. She dressed mostly on her own these days as the maids were technically not at her disposal, but she needed assistance with her hair that evening.
As Lord Eldridge had availed her the use of his carriage at any time, although the purpose was to travel back and forth from Hoxton, she was going to take him at his word. She took one last look in the mirror and she looked presentable. The dress went perfectly with her coloring and it alluded to her form without being indecent. The jewels in her ears sparkled and the shawl added some color.
She felt Lord Eldridge’s eyes on her as she walked past the open door of his study and toward the outer door and the waiting carriage. She was certain he was judging her for the company she was about to keep that evening. She had to move forward with finding a new life no matter what he thoughts on her or her efforts. She was brave enough to find out what this evening would entail; she wasn’t going to cower in her room.
He didn’t rush out and object when she climbed into the carriage. She wasn’t sure why but she let out a breath she’d been holding. He made her uncomfortable; he seemed to see her insecurities and judge her harshly. She had no idea why he had the right to judge her, he was horrid. In the scheme of things, she was much more blameless than he. She didn’t know him well, but she was pretty sure he was far from saintly. If nothing else, his taunting of her proved that. His character was flawed, perhaps to the extent that he only saw flaws in other people, but none in himself. He didn’t matter, she told herself.
She suspected he had misused her in some respect underneath his undeniable rights to the estate he had purchased, especially as his seeming generosity was exchanged for the right to judge and insult her. No, she would use him for what he provided, she decided, for as long as she needed. She needed to grow a bit tougher; this whole affair had proved that. People had not rushed to her rescue when things had gone wrong. It was a tough lesson, but not one she would forget. There was no knight in shining armor coming to defend her; just an insulting cad who might to some indeterminable degree have contributed to her downfall.
She tried to wipe her dark thoughts away as she arrived at Celeste’s house. It was a well-appointed house in a respectable neighborhood. She certainly was not suffering outside the confines of proper society.
A manservant let her in and took her cloak. There was no doubt where the dining room was as she could hear the chatter and laughter. She stepped into a brightly lit room that was full of well-dressed and lively people. The walls were painted with exotic Mediterranean scenes. So far, so good, she told herself.
“There you are,” Celeste said coming toward her taking her hand. She wore a blue gown that looked like it was spun from sapphires. “I am so glad you could make it. Let me introduce you to some of the characters gathered here tonight.” Celeste patted her arm and walked her toward a group of people. “This is Sophia, my oldest friend and confidant. She—would you believe—runs her own stores in North London. She sells the most divine lotions and such which are inordinately popular.” Amelia had never heard of a woman in trade. She hadn’t even known that it was a possibility. “She makes a nice living doing it too.”
“Truly?” Amelia asked quietly.
“Yes,” Celeste said with a laugh. “Men do like to convey that they are the only option for existing in this world, but there are other options. I will tell you all about it if you wish.”
“Why are you helping me?” Amelia asked then they’d moved away from the group.
“I was fond of your father,” she said, “as I told you when we met, I owe him a great deal and I have decided to tell you the things you need to know to navigate your way in this world without him. Let’s talk more at the end of the evening. This is going to be a fun evening. Don’t look so worried. I will make sure nothing will happen to you. Now this is Stephan. He is a complete seducer, so you must stay away from him.” Stephan looked hurt, the emotion clearly written in the dark deep eyes which were uncommonly handsome. “Don’t fall for those puppy eyes, he makes girls fall in love with him and then breaks their hearts.”
“I do not,” he said offended.
“Yes he does,” Celeste said but gave him a soft pat on his cheek. “He can’t help it, it’s in his nature. She is not for you, do you hear.” Stephen seemed to straighten at her words, but he didn’t argue. He did, however, give Celeste a look like she owed him a favor.
Celeste introduced her to at least a dozen other persons, including an artist with long curly hair and a sharp nose. He was shabbily dressed but his intense eyes seemed to looks straight through her. He wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined but it was thrilling nonetheless. She could see paint under his nails and his hands were rough from endless contact with paint and whatever was required to strip it away. Different from the manicured and kept hands she was used to seeing on men. This man appeared to have absolutely no desire to present a well maintained image.
Amelia would have thought that she’d find that repugnant, but she seemed to react to the contrary, she found it fascinating.
“And what do you do with yourself?” he asked her in a direct manner that was truly inquisitive as well as guarded like he would judge her by her answer.
“I am still working that out,” she answered. She got the feeling that he would outright dismiss her if she answered in less than an honest manner. A polite answer would not be acceptable. It was riveting conversing in truths; she had never practiced it on anyone, except Lord Eldridge for who she was spared no politeness.
Celeste pulled her away and they travelled around each group, while Amelia hopelessly forgot everyone’s names. The collective party sat down to dinner around a long table. The discussion didn’t miss a beat; there was incessant chatter throughout the whole table. Everyone seemed to be speaking at once. This was a whole other affair from the dinner parties she was used to, there was no sedate soup course with polite quiet conversation, this was full on debate from the first instance. Every person was in deep conversation with someone else discussing art, politics and commentary on social institutions. Amelia was completely unprepared for this level and depth of conversation. She discovered that her opinions were relatively unformed and she was astonished to see the women were just as involved in the discussions as the men.
The dinner moved quickly. Food was placed in the centre of the table and people served themselves as they wished. Amelia had never experienced anything like it.
She sat between Celeste and a man named Anton, who was apparently a clerk at Custom House. Anton queried her if she’d seen a play that was running down at one of the Haymarket theatres. She had to admit that she’d never seen a play, which elicited a shocked exclamation that she’d been severely neglected. Amelia felt witless in the company of these people; fortunately Anton seemed forgiving and proceeded to tell her his thoughts on this play.
Her glass was filled up several times and the people around her were generously imbibing. As the evening progressed the party seemed to get a little louder with more raucous laughing. A man across the table was telling her an amusing story about the lengths he would go to in order to avoid his landlady. She laughed until her cheeks hurt.
When the meal was over, the party started winding down. A trio of men were still at the table discussing the merit of some social policy that was being enacted by the Government. They were obviously in disagreement. Amelia watched them for a while as Celeste said her farewe
lls to departing guests.
It had been the most unusual and lively dinner she had ever attended, and no one even mentioned the weather.
She chatted with Anton a bit more, who was now telling her about an upcoming play that he was very excited about.
“Anton here is a thespian arts adorer,” Celeste said as she approached them, “but we love him anyway.”
“This girl has never seen a play,” he said with clear astonishment. Celeste shrugged and he turned back to Amelia. “I would be happy to escort you next time I go.”
Amelia didn’t know what to say. She had never been asked anything in such a manner. She had no idea how to respond.
“That sounds lovely, Anton,” Celeste said, “she will certainly keep that in mind, but now I need to discuss some things with our lovely new acquaintance. If you would excuse us, Anton.” It looked like Anton wanted to say something more, but he acknowledged his dismissal with a bow.
“They’ve started already,” Celeste said.
“Started what?” Amelia said and looked around for some activity that Celeste could be referring to.
“Vying for you attention.”
“Oh,” Amelia said, she wasn’t sure if she was shocked or not. She had no idea what that would entail.
“Men, they are such extraordinary creatures,” Celeste said. “They pretend that they are strong and in control, but they crave love. Even the ones incapable of either giving or receiving it, like your father, but he tried.”
It was true that her father had never succeeded in being affectionate. He cajoled and ruled. Amelia had just learned to work around him, and to present things to him in a manner that he could not readily tear apart.
“Now, we must talk,” Celeste said and sat down on a settee. She patted the seat next to her. “We must talk about your future. The world is vast and much of it exists outside the society you knew, which I am sure might not be entirely as it seems. You saw Lord Archforth.”
Undoing One's Enemy Page 5