“I like this new look. You look…chic…like a sophistiqué French woman.” His eyes stared at the daring décolletage of her cerise gown.
He was saying words she had longed to hear for many years and she didn’t care. He was finally recognizing her as a woman and all she wanted to do was laugh. “You’ve never seen me as more than a sister, never as a woman, have you?”
“A woman?” There was that roguish grin that used to make her heart flutter and filled her dreams. “Well, I knew you weren’t a man.”
“High praise indeed. You never noticed my efforts to entice you to see beyond your childhood playmate.”
“You must admit that some of your gowns were…interesting.”
“Interesting? That is kinder than my brothers would’ve said. They’ve described them as atrocious.”
Michael searched her face. His eyes and voice were serious, not the usual lighthearted teasing. “Amelia, are you saying that you’ve…”
Amelia squeezed his hand. “Michael, I fell in love with you when I was eleven years old.”
“You did?” He genuinely looked shocked.
“Do you remember when my mother died giving birth to Drew?”
“Of course, it was terrible. Your mother was so lively and affectionate. She always made time for me.”
“I was down at the river crying. I’d fled out of the house when my father told me. Not that I understood those feelings. I was only eleven, but I was devastated. You understood. You sat next to me and held my hand and told me that you would always be my friend. Then you made us both crowns of dandelions. We pretended you were a prince and I was a princess. You have been my real prince ever since that moment. You were my hero.”
“I was quite a fanciful young boy back then. But I had no idea. You were Amelia, my sister’s playmate.”
“Yes, to my disappointment.”
He pressed his hand to his chest. “You’re very dear to me. I consider you a very close friend. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you pain.”
There was the sensitive boy she’d loved. Underneath his roguish exterior, he was thoughtful and caring.
“You didn’t cause any pain. You brought me stability in a moment when my world was falling apart. I confused that warmth and security for romantic love. You became my childhood fantasy. I envisioned that we would always share our own world, safe and free from pain.”
“Well, in that revealing gown, I’d say you don’t look at all like a childhood fantasy. You look like a grown man’s fantasy.” Then Michael stammered. “I don’t mean my fantasy.”
In that moment, Amelia realized, like all childhood fancies, hers had come to an end. Another man, a man who looked at her with burning intensity, now filled her dreams and made her world feel safe.
Michael swung her in a full circle. She threw her head back and laughed. She had never felt freer in her life.
* * *
Brinsley watched Amelia and the Earl of Kendal dancing together. Kendal held her close, too close. They stared into each other’s eyes. Their mutual feelings clearly showed on their faces.
Amelia’s shining face, filled with love for Kendal delivered a sucker punch to his gut. What a fool he had been. Kendal was as much in love with Amelia as she was with him. His head pounded, and he felt sick—heart sick.
Despite his pain, he couldn’t look away from the enraptured couple. Kendal now pressed his hand against his heart. Could the jagged pain in his gut get any worse? He never stood a chance of winning Amelia’s heart.
Brinsley could hear the nearby matrons sigh.
Kendal devoured her with his eyes. Possessiveness gripped his body. He wanted to hurt someone. He needed to get the hell away from the ballroom before he did some damage. But he was committed to dance with several more young women.
Kendal swung Amelia into a turn; she threw her head back and laughed. His aunt had already said that all of society merely awaited the engagement announcement of the perfect couple. His decision to re-enter society was a joke, a terrible bitter joke. This was absolute torture to watch Amelia, ravishing in a red gown that hugged her willowy curves, relish being in the arms of the man she loved. She was the reason he had endured the tedious dinner with his aunt and several eligible debutantes. He couldn’t leave this ball and disappoint his aunt, the only person in his life who actually cared about him.
“The dancing looks like great fun.”
He looked down at the buxom, blond debutante with calculating, blue eyes. He had totally forgotten her. He felt the heat grow under his collar. He was embarrassed to be caught in such an exposed moment.
He forced a smile at her. It wasn’t her fault that they both were forced to play this charade. He was old and jaded at the ripe age of thirty-one. He couldn’t possibly consider marriage to any of these young women who considered themselves sophisticated when actually they were quite innocent and oh so young. They were excited to play at this new game, a game he found utterly boring.
“Your time will come.” He meant it, but he wouldn’t be taking part.
His aunt approached with another dowager. His aunt was making sure he was paraded in front of all the dowagers of influence. This woman was dressed in a bright green outfit. She wore an outrageous turban that looked to be filled with birds. He’d never seen anything like this monstrosity. He marveled that she could keep the eyesore balanced on her head.
“Effie, I want you to meet my nephew.” His aunt had her arm linked with the other woman. It was obvious that Aunt Mabel felt affection for this odd duck.
He found it difficult to look away from the birds perched on the dowager’s turban.
“Derrick, this is Lady Beaumont, the Earl of Rathbourne’s aunt.”
Lady Gwyneth had mentioned the aunt, but he had never met her in his meetings at Rathbourne house.
He bowed. “Lady Beaumont. It’s a pleasure. And may I introduce you to Lady Edith.”
The girl at his elbow curtsied.
Lady Beaumont smiled at the young debutante. “Your first ball, I’ve been told, Lady Edith.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Is your dance card full for tonight?” Lady Beaumont asked.
“Yes, I haven’t missed one dance except for the cotillion. Lord Brinsley thought it would be a good idea for me to rest.”
His aunt took Lady Edith’s arm. “Let me take you back to your mother since I see the next gentleman is waiting for you.”
Oh his aunt was doing her usual impression of Major-General Wellington. What it had to do with Lady Beaumont he couldn’t surmise.
“I’m very happy to finally make your acquaintance. Gwyneth can’t stop speaking of you and how helpful you’ve been to her,” Lady Beaumont said.
He looked up sharply. The wrinkles around her bright eyes were intense, and she didn’t miss his surprise.
Was she actually privy to her nephew’s work? He had no idea, but he wasn’t in a position to discuss assassination plots against the Prince of Wales.
“I was pleased to be of service, my lady.”
“Yes, your service has been duly noted. I’m glad to see you back in society. This is what your mother would’ve wished for you.”
“You knew my mother?” He couldn’t hide his incredulity. He never had an opportunity to speak with anyone about his mother except his Aunt Mabel, and their conversations were filled with regret and their shared loss.
“I knew Lucy very well. Mabel and I came out the same year and became fast friends. Your mother debuted after us, but she was the belle of her year. Unlike Mabel, poor woman, who took after her father, your mother was feminine and petite, and the most congenial, sweetest woman I had ever met.”
The thought of his mother, young and carefree, started a hurt in his chest rolling to a painful lump in his throat.
Lady Beaumont examined his face carefully. He couldn’t surmise what she might be searching for, but whatever she saw pleased her. “It was a shame that she was forced to marry your father. He was known as a
brute even as a young man.”
The rage he harbored for so many years riddled his body. If the old man weren’t dead, he’d still find pleasure in ripping him apart. As a child, he and his mother had been helpless to stop the cruelty.
“Not many people knew, but I know your mother suffered at his hand. And I suspect the reason you concocted the ruse to escape with your brother’s fiancée was to prevent what you couldn’t stop in your childhood.”
He couldn’t breathe. His lungs moved, but no air passed into them. Crushing pain gripped his chest. No one knew about his past except his Aunt Mabel. Had his aunt confided in this woman?
Lady Beaumont’s voice was quiet and serious. “I’m glad you saved Baron Lyon’s daughter from a fate your mother was forced to endure.”
He had intervened to prevent his brother, who looked and behaved like his father, from harming a dear childhood friend. Gentle Lauren would never have survived a marriage to his brother. He never regretted his actions.
The old woman patted him on the arm. “I want you to know—now that you’re spending time with Gwyneth and Cord, I’d love to tell you stories about your mother that Mabel might not remember. I hope you’ll join us for tea soon.”
He hadn’t cried since his mother died, but he felt the tears burning behind his eyes. “I’d be honored to join you, Lady Beaumont.”
“Forget the Lady Beaumont. You must call me Aunt Euphemia as all the family does.”
The festering wound of not belonging, of not having a loving family, felt exposed. With his head down to hide the emotions that were churning in his heart, he didn’t see Amelia approaching.
“Aunt Euphemia.” Amelia curtsied. “As always, you look your unique self.”
Aunt Euphemia chortled. “Don’t try to hoodwink me, Amelia dear. I know full well you’d love to redo my wardrobe.”
Aunt Euphemia turned toward Brinsley. “Amelia is a very talented artist and is consulted by all ladies of fashion. Did you know about her creative abilities?”
“I did know. Miss Amelia is a woman of many talents.” He tried, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. Her red hair was down and partially wound into a plait that hung over her shoulder. He wanted to unravel the flaming mane and…
Aunt Euphemia looked at him and then back at Amelia, her keen eyes flitting back and forth between them. Amelia’s eyes were sparkling—she’d be every man’s fantasy with her creamy white skin revealed, her luscious pink lips, and her air of joie de vivre.
Aunt Euphemia patted his arm. “I hope you’ll soon come to Rathbourne house for tea. I’d love to reminisce about earlier, happy times.”
“Thank you, Lady Beaumont, I mean, Aunt Euphemia. I’d like that.” He bowed his head.
“Oh, look, Emily Billingsworth has arrived.” Aunt Euphemia’s eyes flickered with mischief. “Can you believe the outrageous color of her dress? At her age, she really should choose more somber colors.” Aunt Euphemia chortled. “I must go and greet her.”
He watched Aunt Euphemia march away. He didn’t look at Amelia who stood before him. He didn’t want her to see the hurt that was devouring him by having her so close but oh so unobtainable. Her face and eyes remained shining and open with excitement, all because of Kendal.
He felt her scrutiny, but he refused to suffer more by seeing the happiness shimmering in her eyes. Not with the freshly open wounds of his past as well as his desperate need for her seething inside him, he wasn’t capable of engaging in the social niceties with her.
“Derrick, what is it? What’s wrong?”
He jerked his head up. At this moment, she decided to call him by his first name.
Her eyes had softened and her flushed lips, the color of her dress, were parted in concern.
Her open and caring look for him was like acid burning his skin. He had to get away from this much pain. Why was she here tormenting him? Why didn’t she go back to Kendal? He had to separate himself from her. He’d be damned before he let her know how he felt. He bowed formally. “Nothing is wrong. I’m enjoying my return to society.”
“You look upset. Did someone offend you? Slight you?”
This would almost be funny if it weren’t so agonizingly painful. That she had no clue how he felt about her and thought he’d be upset by any slight from such blatant hypocrites. Should he go for honesty? How would his little Miss Prissy fare with the brutal truth that he burned for her? He wanted things from her that she had no experience or imagination to consider.
“Congratulations are in order. I wish you the best.” He gave her a curt nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m to dance next with Lady Rowley.”
He walked away from her, just as he had walked away from his father and brother. He had done it before; he could do it again. He didn’t need anyone. He was well-experienced in shutting himself off. He’d been doing it his entire life.
Chapter Fifteen
Stunned by his abrupt manner, and his obvious rejection, Amelia stood in shock and watched Derrick walk away. What a striking figure he cut in his formal clothes. In black and white, he looked formidable and aloof, and more appealing. But she knew his soft and caring side, and she would’ve chosen a waistcoat with spring colors of gold or green for him.
All the young debutantes and married women watched him make his way with his forceful stride across the crowded ballroom.
Her feelings were reeling. Why had he treated her so cold and distant? She had gotten use to his intense stares and his enticing smiles. He seemed to be both hurt and angry. Aunt Euphemia had referred to better times.
Whatever had distressed him, he showed no inclination to talk to her. And what had he said to her after Aunt Euphemia left? “Congratulations…” Awareness dawned. He had witnessed Michael and her together and concluded that she still cared about Michael. Was that the reason for his hasty departure and his rejection of her?
She needed to talk with him, explain that she was finally clear about her feelings for Michael. But how could she explain to the foolish man when he wasn’t going to listen? She had to find a way to make him listen. She also needed his help in rescuing Elodie.
She’d wait for a break after his dance with Lady Rowley. Why had his aunt arranged for him to dance with the flirtatious widow? Derrick didn’t seem to mind the crude cut of the dress or the way her wobbly breasts jiggled. In fact, his eyes hadn’t left Lady Rowley’s very voluptuous bosom the entire time they danced.
Her face burned to watch his obvious attraction and the woman’s blatant flirtation. The lady had feigned ignorance of the turn in the dance, allowing herself to bump against him, so he had to catch her from stumbling, affording him a perfect view down her dress. Derrick smiled at the lady in appreciation. Jealousy and anger formed a molten mix of hurt.
Just then Derrick looked up at her, as if he knew she was blazing with jealousy. He gave her a cold smile, filled with a grim satisfaction. The look scalded her. Why was he angry with her? He was the one flaunting himself with Lady Rowley.
“What’s got you seeing red?” Her middle brother, Parker, had come up behind her. “Your face is that unbecoming blush. Someone’s got you riled.”
“Go away.” She hissed.
“Not when you’re so much fun to torment.” Parker stood next to her. With his blond hair and violet eyes, her younger brother was absolutely handsome. He had the same roguish appeal as Michael Harcourt—devastating to women’s hearts.
“Who are you watching?”
“Did I not already ask you to go away?”
“Not when you’re standing by yourself positively fuming.”
“Where’s Jack?”
“Not going to work. Oh, my…did you just see where Lady Rowley put her hands on that lucky fellow. Who is that gentleman so willing to be attacked by the barracuda?”
“The barracuda?” Amelia finally tore her eyes away from Derrick making a fool of himself.
“Lady Rowley. She’s insatiable,” Parker said.
“What? How do you know su
ch things?”
“I’m male and I’m twenty-six years old. I know such things. Besides, Jack told me.”
“Jack?” Her voice got shrill. “Are you telling me that Jack and…?”
“Don’t go all prudish on me. Jack was probably only repeating rumors.”
The idea of Jack and now Derrick with that woman—Amelia shook her head. Was there any hope for the male species? Well, if Derrick wanted to make a fool of himself on his first night back in society, she wasn’t about to stop him. But she had seen the hurt on his face before he went off to pursue the ever so ripe Lady Rowley.
She turned to her brother. “Parker, I’m glad you’re in town. I need your escort tomorrow evening.”
“Escort? Do I have to? Please say it isn’t a music concert.”
“No, this might get dangerous. We’re going to follow a young woman who is involved in a smuggling ring. You might get to knock a few heads together.”
“This sounds like my kind of entertainment. Who is this young woman? And does Jack know what you’re up to?”
“No, and you’re not going to tell him. Must I remind you about your little…disagreement at the Rooster Tail tavern?”
Her brother might be blond, but he shared the same volatile skin color. Now it was her turn to enjoy the blush moving up his neck into his cheeks. “You promised not to rat on me.”
“I won’t. But not a word to Jack or anyone about tomorrow night.”
With Parker’s help, she no longer needed, or wanted, Derrick’s help.
Chapter Sixteen
Brinsley sat in his regular spot, watching the front door of Ship’s Aground tavern. He leaned against the damp wall of the tavern, trying to escape Bev’s wandering hands. After last night’s episode with Lady Rowley, he wasn’t in the mood for pushy women and their games. The only hands he wanted on him were artistic, slender, and porcelain pale. Convinced that was never going to happen, he wanted nothing to do with women at all.
His muscles tightened, but not for what Bev was offering. He was ready for a violent and bloody distraction. He should’ve laughed at the irony of his situation, but he could find no humor when one woman had him reeling.
A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3) Page 10