His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance)

by Rose Gordon

  “No,” Elijah clipped. “I'm not here out of jealousy. I want to marry Amelia because—” because he loved her and realized that he always had, but he couldn't marry her while he was still working for the Crown. It was too dangerous. She'd live her life as an oblivious walking target. Anyone who wanted to inflict pain on him would only have to take one look at them together to know the best way to hurt him was to hurt her. He couldn't do that to her.

  “You don't have a good reason, do you?” Lord Strand placed his large hand on Elijah's shoulder. “It's all right, Elijah. You're still young. Another young lady will come along.”

  “I don't want another young lady,” Elijah said through gritted teeth.

  Lord Strand urged him toward the door. “Let her be, Elijah.”

  “And if I don't?” Elijah challenged.

  “Then you'll wish you had,” Lord Strand said, his fingertips digging into Elijah's shoulder.

  Elijah pretended not to notice the vice-like grip the older man had on his shoulder. “Sir, other than not having a title and waiting a little longer than you may have liked, why do you find me so unfavorable in comparison to Lord Friar?”

  Silence hung in the air and Lord Strand's grip loosened. “It's not something I can explain.” He sighed. “She made the choice and I have to respect what she's done.”

  “What she's done?” Elijah echoed.

  Something flickered in Lord Strand's eyes. “Her decision is to marry Lord Friar. It's done.”

  “Right,” Elijah agreed, narrowing his eyes on the older man. He was hiding something. But what?

  He didn't get the chance to ask when the door swung open and Amelia's older brother Philip strolled in, sneering.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked without ceremony.

  “Nothing,” Lord Strand answered for him. “He was just on his way out.”

  Philip stepped aside and gestured to the door. “I'll see you out.”

  Elijah thought to protest, but quickly decided not to. With Philip in the room, his chances of getting any more information out of Lord Strand were nonexistent. “Good day, my lord,” he said to Lord Strand.

  “Good day, Mr. Banks,” came the man's gruff response.

  Elijah chanced one final glance at the man. His face confirmed the sadness his voice had indicated.

  “You'll leave her alone if you know what's good for you,” Philip whispered in his ear as soon as they were in the hall.

  Elijah spun around to face the weasel. Thinner than a reed and the spotted face of a green boy, Philip Brice was the last person who should ever be issuing any type of threat. “And what about what's good for her?”

  “That'd be Lord Friar,” he said simply. “He's everything you're not.”

  “Yes, cruel and heartless,” Elijah mused. “Oh, and he has a title.”

  “And a great deal of wealth,” Philip added.

  Elijah's muscles tensed. “Is that it? Is your father in need of money?” It was an impolite question, to be sure. One that could get just about any man called out, but seeing how Philip possessed less strength than it took to shoot a gun or hold a sword for longer than thirty seconds, Elijah didn't mind breaking the rules of etiquette.

  Philip snarled. “No. It would be, it has nothing to do with Father being in need of money. Amelia consented to marry Lord Friar all on her own.”

  Her father had said as much, but he doubted it was the truth. It was widely known that Lord and Lady Strand's visits to London had become fewer and were often cut short. Not once in the last four years had they hosted so much as a breakfast. The undeniable truth was, they had no money. “Do you know why she accepted?”

  “One can only speculate.”

  “Then speculate.”

  Philip gave a lopsided shrug. “There are many reasons young ladies decide to marry, Elijah. She could love him.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Elijah cut in.

  Philip's lips formed that unsettling smirk he usually walked around town wearing. “There are many things you might believe are unlikely when it comes to Amelia, but I assure you sometimes the truth is more absurd than those gothic novels that are all the rage.”

  “If you really believe she loves him, then you are a fool.”

  Two flags of bright red appeared on Philip's cheeks. “And if you believe love has to be involved for two people to commit certain acts, then you are the fool,” he shot back.

  Elijah took his meaning, Amelia had been compromised. “With Lord Friar,” he nearly choked out in disbelief.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps, not.” He shrugged. “She really doesn't know.”

  “She doesn't know?”

  The clodpole shrugged again. “As I said, more absurd than a gothic novel.”

  No, not absurd. Asinine. How does a lady not know who she's shared intimacies with? Was such a thing even possible? Perhaps if she were a trollop in the seedy part of Covent Garden and a stranger approached her. Otherwise how would a lady not know her partner's identity? Elijah's innards twisted and the air was robbed straight from his lungs as understanding came over him: a lady wouldn't know the identity of a masked man at a costume party.

  “Is she here?” he asked despite the lack of air in his lungs.

  “No. She's staying with a relation until her wedding.”

  “Which relation?”

  “I'm not sure,” Philip said, looking down to inspect his fingernails.

  It would only take two hits—Elijah to hit Philip, and for Philip to hit the floor—to end this nonsense here and now. Fortunately for Philip, he was spared a punch to the gut when his father reappeared. “Banks, go home. Philip, get in here. Now.”

  Elijah waited while Philip walked away. It didn't matter that Philip hadn't given him the information he needed. He still had two and a half days before the wedding was to take place. Brighton wasn't too terribly far or that large of a place. That should be plenty of time to find Amelia.

  More than two days, was not enough time to find her and convince her to jilt Lord Friar, however. In fact, his time had been cut short when he'd been seeking information about Amelia's family in a tap room and had overheard a boat named Jezebel had been spotted down by the docks—

  SLAM!

  Elijah jolted in his seat as if he'd been struck by lightning. He looked around in the darkness; his skin tingled. Someone else was in the room with him.

  “Alex, stop,” his sister-in-law Caroline protested with a giggle.

  “Someone's in here,” Elijah barked.

  Caroline let out a little shriek and someone clearly tripped. Alex muttered a curse as he fumbled in the dark for a match. He tried to light one of the candles on the table, but there was nothing left to light since Elijah had watched them all burn out this evening. Instead, Alex held the lighted match in the air between them, as if it were some great light source. Fire quickly consumed the little wooden stick and he put it out, but didn't let the lack of light deter him. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Sitting.”

  Elijah couldn't see his brother's expression, but assumed he'd scowled. “In here? Right now?”

  “Yes, I do believe here and now would be accurate.”

  “Why?” Alex ground out.

  “I don't know. Why did you come in here?”

  “To help me find a book,” Caroline blurted before her husband could answer. She fumbled for something on the desk. “Now, that I have it, I'll go on up to bed.”

  “She does know that she took a quill and not a book, doesn't she?” Elijah asked when he was sure Caroline was out of the room. “Perhaps she plans to pen—”

  “Yes,” Alex snapped, ending Elijah's words. “She also knows this is her own home and she's welcome to go in any room she'd like, any time she'd like, and take from it any thing she'd like.”

  “I never said she couldn't,” Elijah said. “But last I heard, one's bedchamber was more appropriate for the activity you brought her in here for, Amorous Alex.”

  “You have such
a small imagination, it's astounding,” Alex murmured, taking a seat. “Why are you here?”

  Elijah didn't answer.

  “Ah, I see. matrimonial troubles already.”

  Elijah doubted he did. Just as he struggled to believe his mother could offer him advice about his situation, he couldn't even imagine Alex offering him any good advice. Alex had been very fortunate, indeed to find a lady like Caroline. She didn't mind his love for science, nor the fact that he often missed subtle, and not-so-subtle, hints; and said things that were easily taken out of context. But nobody was ever offended by the latter—even Caroline.

  When they'd begun courting, Alex had foolishly written down his courtship strategy as it if were nothing more than a science experiment. When she found out what he'd done, she hadn't developed a tongue sharper than a sword or turned into an Ice Queen. Instead, as far as he could remember, she'd never said anything to him about it at all.

  “Caroline and I didn't always have an easy time of it,” Alex said a moment later.

  Elijah snorted. “That's not what I remember.”

  “That's because you don't know everything like you think you do.”

  Elijah shoved his hand into his pocket and ran his thumbnail along the edge of his gold pocket watch. “Alex, this is different.”

  “Is it?” The sound of a chair leaning backwards was the only sound in the room. “I know you think I say idiotic things because I don't realize what I'm saying, but that's not always true. I'll grant you it's true sometimes, but I've learned it's better to keep one's mouth shut than to say the wrong thing.”

  “Then take your own advice and stop talking now.”

  “I've hurt Caroline with my words before,” Alex admitted as if he hadn't heard Elijah's former statement. “Purposely.”

  Thank heaven for sending the storm clouds to block the moon's light or else Elijah's slack jaw would have given himself away. “What?”

  Alex brought his chair back to the floor with a soft thud. “I said I've knowingly hurt Caroline's feelings.” He let out a deep breath. “The night you and Henry informed me that Caroline had known for some three weeks about what I'd done, we had a row. As usual, I misunderstood what she'd been doing and what she was saying that night. I got angry and left. The next day, she tried to speak to me about it and instead of listening, I let the hurt she wasn't even trying to inflict on me get the better of me and rattled off every hurtful thing I could think of. It only got worse from there,” he added quietly.

  Elijah thought back to that day. He vaguely remembered sitting in the breakfast room with Henry, Mother and Edwina, when in the middle of the meal Mother abruptly stood and closed the door herself, rather than directing a footman to do it. He'd thought it odd at the time, but had never given it any further thought.

  “How did you repair things?” Elijah heard himself ask.

  “I fixed her telescope,” Alex said as if to suggest Elijah could do the same thing to mend his relationship with Amelia.

  “While I'm thrilled that worked for you, I don't think it'll have the same effect for me.”

  “No, probably not.” Alex's chair screeched back away from the table. “It wouldn't have worked for me, either, if I hadn't been there, ready to apologize and make things right when she found it.”

  “And what did you say when she found it?”

  “The truth. All of it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sun always shone so bright after a storm it was amazing half the countryside hadn't been blinded, Amelia thought as she rapidly blinked her eyes to get used to the blinding light pouring into her window.

  She lifted her left hand to shield her face and looked around the empty room. Dropping her hand, she sighed. Elijah must have decided to spend the night in his brother's home. That was for the best, really. She rolled to the side of the bed, put her feet over the edge, stretched her hands way up over her head and gave a hearty yawn.

  “I can't imagine why you'd have such a need to stretch so much after having such a large bed all to yourself last night.”

  Amelia dropped her arms as if they suddenly weighed five hundred pounds each. “I made sure to stay on my own side last night. But since I woke up today in the same condition I went to sleep in, I'll be sure to sprawl out like a starfish tonight and every night hereafter.”

  “You be sure to do that,” Elijah said with a quick grin. “We were better at being friends than lovers anyway.”

  She forced a smile. Although she'd wanted him to stop trying to get her into bed, his cavalier attitude about it stung. “Right you are.”

  Elijah walked into the room and over to the wardrobe. “Once you're dressed, I'll take you into Bath. We never did have that slice of cake I'd promised you yesterday.”

  Amelia's heart squeezed at the memory of what he'd said about her and cake yesterday. “No, thank you.”

  Elijah turned to face her, his blue eyes wide with what appeared to be shock. “Did I just hear Amelia Banks forfeit her boon?”

  “I'm not very hungry.” That was a lie. She was famished.

  “That's all right.” He turned back to the wardrobe and pulled out a white shirt and red waistcoat. He laid them across the back of the chair closest to him. “After we walk around and visit the shops for a while you will be.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it. He might have made an unflattering remark about her request for cake yesterday, but if Henry was to be believed, and there really wasn't a good reason to doubt him, she'd do well to spend the day talking with him—she just might discover what it was he was hiding from her.

  “We could even get an ice if we see a vendor,” Elijah continued, bending down to unlace his boots.

  Amelia knew she shouldn't stare at his backside. She just couldn't help it. Would it be as hard and muscular as it looked? She tore her eyes away. What was wrong with her? Not two minutes ago she'd boasted about her win and that she was now free from his unromantic advances. So why now did she find herself even more attracted to him than before?

  “Get dressed,” Elijah said, handing her the lavender morning gown she'd borrowed from Edwina.

  She took it from him, thankful that it'd only be a week or so before the modiste who'd come by yesterday afternoon would have some gowns whipped up for her. “Do you plan to leave?”

  “No,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head. “If you'll wait a moment, I'll help you dress.”

  Help her dress? “That won't be necessary,” she rushed to say in spite of the way her cheeks burned.

  Elijah pulled on his clean shirt then reached for his trousers. “In case it has escaped your notice, I haven't yet employed a lady's maid for you.”

  “Oh, so that's your plan?”

  Elijah's movements stopped and his face hardened. “I don't like what you're insinuating, Amelia. And you'd do well to stop accusing me of being a depraved reprobate.”

  Amelia's heart slammed in her chest. “I never meant—” She broke off. How had her words been taken so wrong? “I was jesting with you, Elijah.”

  “Jesting?”

  “Jesting,” she confirmed. She set her gown on the bed next to her and fell backwards onto the soft mattress.

  “That's a jest I don't find very humorous.”

  “I know that now, but I didn't mean for it to come out that way,” Amelia mumbled, bringing her arm up to rest across her eyes. Why was it so hard to talk to the one person who'd once had the ability to put her at ease better than anyone else?

  Next to her, the mattress dipped under his heavy frame as he lay down next to her. His warm hand found her cheek and turned her head to face him. “Why don't you explain it,” he said in a tone far softer than the one he'd spoken in a moment ago.

  “It's of no account.”

  “Sure it is.” He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, his jaw no longer clenched. “I want to know.”

  “It won't even be funny now.”

  He grinned. “All the more reason to
explain it.”

  She knit her brow. Was he cracked? Who wanted to hear a jest when the moment for the height of the jest had past?

  “I'm waiting.”

  “You're impossible,” she said with a smile. “You'd said you were going to help me dress—play the part of my lady's maid because you hadn't hired one for me so I asked if that's your plan.”

  “Yes, I got that,” he said in a tone that lacked any humor whatsoever.

  She closed her eyes. “I didn't mean it that way. What I was implying was that since you're a younger son and have no title, you have to have a plan for your life. You're seven-and-twenty and haven't yet taken up as an officer or become a vicar, both of which are respectable things for a gentleman of your station. So since you haven't done either of those, I was jesting that you'd—”

  “Planned to become a lady's maid, instead,” he finished for her, a blank expression on his face.

  ***

  What an idiot he'd been. He swallowed past the pound of gravel in his throat. “Amelia?”

  “Yes?”

  He searched his mind for the right words, but nothing came to mind of how to make amends for accusing her of something so distasteful.

  “I told you it wouldn't be funny now,” she mumbled, taking him from his thoughts.

  “No.” He reached for her small hand and held it in his. “It's not that. It was funny. Or it would have been had I not been such an arse to realize it.”

  She stared up at the ceiling. “It's all right. It seems we've both been guilty of such these past few days.”

  He nodded against the mattress, companionable silence filling the room. He released her hand, then moved his so they were palm to palm and entwined his fingers with hers. It had been years since he'd touched her ungloved hand, and yet it was still as soft as he remembered.