She handed the satchel to Giles, her young footman, and led the way back to the High Street, where she had arranged to meet her coach near the park. From there, she rode in comfort back to her brother’s home.
It had been her home, too, for the past twenty-three years. But now she was going to have to find another place to live. Despite the forty-odd rooms in Sudbury House, there wasn’t enough space for two women. At least, not when one of the women was her brother’s fiancée, Colette.
Her brother Edward, Earl of Sudbury, had suggested she marry. But she absolutely couldn’t bind herself to some fop who thought of no one but himself, or worse, one who dictated her every move. She led her own life and didn’t want someone else telling her what to do, the way her father had run her mother’s life. The poor woman hadn’t had a moment to herself until the day she died. It was a lesson well learned.
Edward would give her an allowance, of course, and he’d offered to let her have the cottage in Oxfordshire. But she would need more than what he’d be able to give her, especially if Colette had anything to say about it. Besides, the cottage was far away from her friends. Recently, she’d had some success writing books, keeping her identity hidden by using a pen name. If she lived frugally, perhaps she’d be able to support herself, especially if Edward would help her purchase a small home in London.
Her impending move had been in her thoughts when she ran into the man in the bookshop. He’d looked familiar, but since she avoided most social events, she had no idea who he was. The gentleman’s face had been kind, full of character and compassion. The scars on his left cheek did nothing to detract from his looks, and his deep blue eyes had shone with intelligence. He’d been standing in the philosophy section, perusing the titles on a high shelf when she’d bumped into him. She’d been mortified and had sputtered an apology, but he hadn’t responded to that. Instead, he’d simply picked up her books and handed them back to her. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was there, either.
Arriving at the townhouse, she instructed Giles to take the satchel to her sitting room. She would have two or three hours to herself before dinner, and then she would have to get dressed to go out again. Tonight was the Linden daughters’ recital, and though she preferred to stay at home, she felt obligated to attend. Desiree, the girls’ mother, had become a good friend through the Ladies’ Literary Society, and both Laurel and Merilee had become dear to her.
Perhaps if she could shut out enough of the music, she could plot out her next novel in her head. She had a good memory and could write down the details when she got home.
~~~~
Jeanne Brown inspected her mistress’s cloak with distaste. Why did Lady Amelia insist on trudging through the back streets of the city where the walks were strewn with debris? It would take the better part of a day to clean the hems of the garment. Thankfully, she had Lady Amelia’s clothing for the evening ready, including a new, clean cloak.
She wondered about the books her mistress had purchased earlier. She’d seemed flushed when she returned from the park, but it hadn’t been from exertion. Her brother’s satchel had been stuffed, probably with new books, but the pink in her cheeks seemed more from a heightened emotion. Had the lady met with an unsavory character? Or were the books themselves of a scandalous nature?
Rising, Jeanne took the garment to the kitchen to search for the lye soap. Perhaps she could get most of this dirt out before dinner. When she last looked in on her mistress, the lady was seated at her writing desk. Lady Amelia was always writing, and sometimes when Jeanne went to fetch her for dinner, she had to speak several times to gain her attention.
Lady Amelia didn’t socialize much, preferring her own company to the social events of the holiday season. But apparently she hadn’t been able to refuse the entreaties of her best friend, whose talented daughters would perform in a piano and vocal recital that evening. She would wear the lovely gown Jeanne had carefully pressed, don the soft matching slippers, and have her hair arranged. Jeanne enjoyed creating elaborate coiffures and bemoaned the fact that her employer did not make use of her talent. If given the opportunity, she would ensure Lady Amelia’s golden tresses were the talk of the ton.
Perhaps tonight Jeanne’s creation would catch the attention of a dashing gentleman who would sweep Lady Amelia off her feet. Then the two of them could move to that gentleman’s estate, and they could be rid of this place. Lord Sudbury was all right, but his future bride was a dragon who’d done nothing but undermine Amelia, changing the décor, contradicting her orders to the staff, and even lying to the earl to make Lady Amelia look bad. Her mistress would be better off leaving Sudbury House.
Entering the kitchen, she inhaled the savory smells of the delicious meal Cook prepared, and her stomach rumbled.
“Good afternoon, Cook.”
“Good afternoon, Jeanne. What brings you — Oh,” Cook exclaimed, spying the soiled cloak Jeanne carried. “I see her ladyship has been traipsing through muddy sections of town again.”
“Yes. She came back with another satchel full of books.”
Cook shook her head. “Such a waste, a lovely young lass like her, shut up in her room, reading and writing all day. At her age, she should be married with a nursery full of children.”
“I agree. But at least tonight she’s going to the Linden children’s recital.”
“Lovely. Well, do your magic and make her look beautiful.”
Jeanne sighed. Magic wasn’t needed to make Lady Amelia beautiful. What she needed was the lady’s cooperation.
Chapter Three
What the devil am I doing here?
Philip adored his nieces, but he preferred to support them in ways that didn’t require his presence at a social function. Laurel was a beautiful girl, and he’d heard she was a fair singer, though she’d confessed to him she really didn’t enjoy performing for an audience. Merilee seemed to enjoy playing piano, and people other than her own mother had said she was quite good. No matter, his presence ensured he wouldn’t be badgered again for a month or so. Desiree was a good sister, but she could be a mother bear sometimes, especially when it came to her children. As if conjured by his thoughts, Desiree Linden, Countess of Milburn, appeared at his side.
“Phillip, how good of you to come.” She took his arm and steered him toward the chairs set up for the audience.
“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”
“Of course you would.” She chuckled. “But I’m glad you chose to come instead of closeting yourself in your study. I’m giving you the choicest seat, right here in the front.”
“Marvelous. Everyone will be able to see me.”
“Don’t be silly. They’re here to see the girls, not you. Besides, you’ll be off to the left, so your good side will be all they see. You might be lucky and not have to interact with anyone.”
“How kind of you,” he said through his teeth.
He settled himself in his seat, turning sharply when someone behind him tapped his shoulder. The Duchess of Camden bent her head to speak to him, and the feathers on her oversized hat tickled his forehead. “Your Grace, it’s so good to see you again. I’ve heard you were at your estate, and we assumed you were still in mourning—”
The duchess stopped speaking abruptly and looked toward the stage. Phillip followed suit and saw Desiree held a crystal bell, apparently to gain everyone’s attention. Merilee had seated herself at the pianoforte.
“Friends, thank you so much for attending. Please make yourselves comfortable. Merilee and Laurel have a lovely program for you this evening. Merilee will open the program by performing Sonata in G minor by Muzio Clementi.”
Phillip prepared himself for an hour or two of boredom, schooling his features into a polite show of interest. Just as Merilee raised her hands to place them on the keyboard, he felt the air stir to his right, and the aroma of roses assaulted him. He glanced in that direction and beheld a vision of loveliness seated beside him. She wore a fetching gown of midnight bl
ue satin, and her honey blond curls framed her heart-shaped face. She nodded a silent greeting to him then directed her attention toward the stage. Phillip dutifully turned his head as well, but his thoughts remained on the woman beside him. It was the woman from the bookstore. Where was her husband?
~~~~
Amelia kept her eyes focused on the performer, though she barely heard a note from the pianoforte. She kept her mouth closed, breathing deeply as her heart calmed to a steady beat. Edward’s insufferable fiancée had, as usual, not been ready to leave at the appointed time, so Amelia had taken a footman and hired a hackney, arriving at the last moment. She’d tossed her cloak at the surprised butler and scooted to an open seat at the front, sitting down just before Merilee began to play.
The man beside her was a distraction. She’d only caught a glimpse of him before the music started, but she was certain it was the same gentleman from the bookshop. She felt her face heat. Why on earth would she have such a reaction to a man?
The music stopped, and the people around her applauded politely. Amelia, embarrassed to be daydreaming, lifted her hands to do the same. But she realized the gentleman beside her was later than her to clap his hands. Perhaps he also had wayward thoughts.
Merilee rose from the bench and executed a prim curtsey then reseated herself at the bench. This time, she played a gentle introduction for her sister’s vocal solo.
Though she kept her eyes forward, she knew the singer was more to the gentleman’s liking. He sat up straighter, and his facial features lifted from its boredom into pleasure. Was it the song itself, or was it the performer who caught the man’s fancy? Laurel was almost seventeen now and would probably be ready to enter society in the next season. But if the man next to her had set his sights on her, she might be married before ever having one.
A jab to her midsection had her massaging it. Had she eaten something unsettling? She scarcely remembered what she’d consumed. She’d been so distracted by her new story she had simply eaten what was placed before her. Surely that was it. Indigestion made much more sense than jealousy over a young girl garnering the attention of the handsome man next to her.
The song concluded, and the audience applauded politely. Desiree announced a short intermission, and the guests rose to chat and partake of the sumptuous refreshments spread on the banquet tables. Amelia wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, but she rose, needing to stand and use her legs. As much as she loved writing, it caused her to sit for long periods of time. She didn’t enjoy the small talk — it bored her. But she put on her public face, for her friend’s sake. If nothing else, perhaps she could get some ideas for her next book.
“Excuse me, miss.”
She spun around, and locked eyes with the handsome gentleman who’d been seated beside her. To meet his gaze, she had to look up — farther, it seemed, than she had that afternoon. In his formal dress, he looked quite dashing. “Yes?”
“I believe you dropped this.” He held out a satin scarf. She’d forgotten she’d removed it during the recital.
“Thank you, sir. Once again, you’ve come to my aid, saving me from my clumsiness.”
“I was in the way. I should know better than to stand in one spot in the bookstore.”
Amelia put a finger to her lips. “Shh. My brother doesn’t approve of me frequenting that shop. It’s not in a fashionable area of town.”
He nodded. “I understand. Incident forgotten.”
Desiree, ever the hostess, appeared suddenly. “Phillip, I see you’ve met my dear friend, Lady Amelia Partridge. Amelia, this is my brother, the Duke of Bartlett.”
Phillip bowed deeply. “How do you, do, Lady Amelia?”
Amelia curtseyed. “I’m honored to meet you, Your Grace.”
“I’m surprised we haven’t met before. Have you and my sister been friends for a long time?”
Desiree chuckled and touched his arm, causing him to turn his attention back to her. “How diplomatic, Phillip. You can see Amelia is closer to Laurel’s age than mine. Amelia is a fellow member of the Ladies’ Literary Society, and she’s been a boon to us. She has a way with words and has written our newsletter and other promotional tracts for our organization.”
Phillip turned back to Amelia. “Very impressive, Lady Amelia. The Literary Society is one of my sister’s passions, and anyone who forwards their cause is a treasure.”
Amelia’s face warmed, and she scolded herself. She was normally immune to flattery, but the duke’s praise made her feel almost giddy. Why was she acting like a lovesick silly schoolgirl? She managed to keep her voice from rising to a giggly pitch. “Thank you. I’m honored to be associated with such a worthy cause.”
“May I fetch some refreshments for you ladies?” Phillip offered.
Desiree nodded. “Thank you, Phillip. I would love some tea.”
Amelia shook her head. “Nothing for me, thank you.”
As soon as Phillip left, Desiree laid her hand on Amelia’s arm. “Thank you so much for coming, Amelia. Laurel and Merilee both look up to you.”
“How kind of you to say so, Lady Milburn.”
“Please call me Desiree. Let me introduce you to another friend of mine, Lady Diane. Well, it’s something like that. She’s French, and I can never pronounce her name to suit her. I understand you speak her language…”
Lady Dionne, betrothed to the Earl of Warwick, stood off to the side of the room, next to her fiancé. The beautiful young girl brightened considerably when Amelia began a conversation in her native tongue.
~~~~
A few minutes later, Phillip handed his sister a cup of tea.
“What do you think of her?” Desiree demanded.
“Who?”
“Amelia, you goose. Isn’t she lovely?”
“Of course.”
“You two have a lot in common. But she’s quite headstrong.”
“I didn’t realize you had set up shop as a matchmaker. Besides, I thought she was married.”
“Amelia? No, she’s happily unattached. As you are,” she added when Phillip started a retort. “And I think both of you would be even happier with someone to share your interests.”
“Put away those dreams, Desiree. If she’s going to be happy with a man, you will need to find someone else for her.”
“Not interested?”
“Not — qualified.”
Desiree’s brows rose, but she said nothing.
~~~~
Amelia enjoyed her conversation with the future countess, but her mind was on the handsome duke across the room. How had she not recognized him? Had the incident that caused his scars kept him bedridden? Her curiosity was stemmed when Desiree rose to the platform to gather her guests for the second half of the program.
“Dear, guests, the performers are ready for the second half of the program. Please be kind enough to take your seats.”
The audience members made their way back to their chairs. But a shrill voice from the ballroom’s entrance had them freezing mid-step. Amelia recognized the voice and winced as everyone swiveled to see what had caused the commotion.
The Earl of Sudbury had arrived, along with his fiancée.
“Don’t hold my cloak like that!” Colette’s screeching carried across the room. “Have you no sense at all? You are crushing the fabric. Edward, we will have to bring my servants here from France. They know how to take care of fine clothing.”
The poor servant who’d had the misfortune to take her cloak cringed.
“Yes, my dear,” Edward murmured, as if to make amends for Colette’s outburst. “Why don’t I take your cloak for now?”
“Never mind. I will buy a new one when I go back to Paris. I need something to drink after the ride in that dreadful carriage. Where is the wine steward?”
One of the waiters hadn’t disappeared quickly enough.
“Ah, there he is. Please bring a glass for Mademoiselle Colette.”
The rest of the guests, having already given up their drinks, resigne
d themselves to waiting for her. The young servant cautiously approached her with his tray, holding it as far from him as he could.
“This is French wine, no?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
Colette sipped and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. “Only the French know how to make a proper wine.” She took a sip, pointedly ignoring the impatient stares around her.
She took her time, despite the fact that no one came to converse with her or her fiancé. When she finally finished, she took the earl’s arm and walked regally toward the stage. She stopped when they got to the seats.
“Edward, surely you do not expect me to sit on such awful chairs?”
If Edward was mortified at his fiancée’s question, he contained it well. He looked around him and pointed to a love seat along the edge of the room. “Will that do, my love?”
Colette sighed heavily. “I suppose it will have to do. Have them bring it over here.” She pointed to the front of the stage.
There were several gasps from the other guests. And then murmurs. How dare she sit right in front after having made everyone wait for her?
But Colette seemed oblivious to the hateful stares and mumbling. She waited for the hastily summoned servants to move the love seat.
“Edward, you will have to sit on the left, so I do not have to see that horrible looking man.” Though Colette’s statement was uttered in a stage whisper, it was clearly heard in the waiting silence.
The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection Page 27