A Common Scandal

by Amanda Weaver

  He harrumphed. “Well, I suppose it’s between Smythe and the girl’s father. As long as he’s not pursuing you.”

  “I can assure you, Papa, Mr. Smythe doesn’t have the slightest interest in me as a wife.” He may want to bed me, but that’s an altogether different thing. “I understand what I’m meant to do and I won’t disappoint you.”

  “All right, I need to be off to catch the eleven o’clock train.”

  “Give Mama my love and tell her I miss her.”

  “I will. In truth, I’ll be glad to be with her again. Leaving her alone in London doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “Nor me. Tell her I’ll be home soon. Safe travels, Papa.”

  She followed him out into the entry hall and obediently received his farewell kiss on her cheek. “Make me proud, Amelia,” he said, tugging on his gloves.

  “I do always try to.”

  He clucked her under the chin before he donned his hat. “Come home with some good news for your mother and me. That will make us proud.”

  He ascended into the carriage and she watched as it disappeared down the drive, wishing there was some way to make them proud that wouldn’t cost her every moment of her future happiness.

  * * *

  The walk to the Devil’s Kneading Trough was much longer than Evelyn had led them to believe. It took the whole of the morning to reach it, through a multitude of small villages and across several endless Downs. Evelyn kept up her high spirits the whole way, frequently exclaiming about all the fun they were having and insisting everyone agree with her. With Kitty, Will and Tony making such a boisterous group around her, she didn’t notice the lack of enthusiasm among the rest of her guests.

  Lord Radwill had fallen into step beside Amelia only a half mile into the walk, and they had a pleasant, if unexciting conversation about the farming in Kent. When she glanced behind herself, she saw Nate walking alongside Julia, nearly towering over her small frame. Amelia faced front and resolved to forget him entirely.

  “It’s a fine morning for a walk,” Radwill observed.

  “As Lady Evelyn has reminded us yet again. But yes, the weather is lovely.”

  “Do you enjoy the countryside, Miss Wheeler?”

  Amelia shrugged. “I suppose. It’s very pretty.”

  “Ah, I can tell from your tone that you prefer London. You’re a social creature?”

  “Not terribly. Honestly, I miss Portsmouth.”

  Radwill’s eyebrows lifted slightly over his rather small brown eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d lived there.”

  “I was born there. We lived there until I was ten. When Papa’s foundry had its success, he moved us to Mayfair.”

  “And you don’t like London?”

  “London is fine. It’s never quite felt like home, though.” No place did, in truth.

  “I’d much prefer the peace and quiet of Kenworth Park, myself. That’s the family estate in Lincolnshire.”

  “Don’t you miss Switzerland? Isn’t your mother’s family from there?”

  He smiled, gratified by her recall of such a small detail. “I am fond of my mother’s family, but I confess, I’m not much for travel, especially outside England. This house party in Kent is as far from home as I like to be. There is no greater pleasure than returning to the quiet comforts of home, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.” In truth, her heart was sinking. He hated to travel? All she wanted to do was to get out of England and see the world. The idea of moldering away for the rest of her life on some sleepy estate in Lincolnshire made her want to shrivel up and cry. “And what do you do to fill up your days in Lincolnshire, Lord Radwill?”

  “I try to involve myself with my father and his business manager when I can, to help out with the running of the estate. I assist my mother with the greenhouse sometimes, as it’s a matter of great family pride.”

  “The greenhouse?”

  “Kenworth Park has a rather famous greenhouse where we grow a great many rare breeds of orchids and other tropical flowers. My great-grandmother had it built, and the maintenance of it has passed from countess to countess. Now my mother is its conservator.”

  He paused, letting his implication linger. Radwill’s wife would inherit the responsibility for this famous greenhouse one day. It was too bad Amelia seemed to have the kiss of death when it came to plants. Even her cut bouquets seemed to shrivel up within hours.

  “Do you like flowers, Miss Wheeler?”

  For the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt. It was laughable, how wrong she was for Radwill. He might have been considering making one of the haystacks they were walking past his viscountess. It would make him as suitable a bride as she would. Well, she’d simply have to learn. Everyone had to adjust when they married. Her adjustment would just be a bit more profound than most brides.

  “I adore flowers,” she said with all the sincerity she could muster. “But Lord Radwill, all you’ve described are your duties. Surely you have a passion of your own?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I have a great passion for chess.”

  “Chess?”

  “Yes, I have several games underway with many players from all over Europe.”

  “I’m sorry, how does it work, if you’re not both in the same place?”

  Behind his glasses, Radwill’s eyes lit up, perhaps the first real spark of excitement she’d seen in him. “It’s quite thrilling, really. We conduct the entire game via correspondence.”

  “I’m afraid you must explain how you play a game via letters.” For a moment, it seemed exciting, almost like a seduction in letters, like in a novel. Radwill’s answer put an end to that flight of fancy.

  “Well, you see, we each set up a board in our home. I write my chess partner with my next move, say, knight to queen’s bishop three. I move my piece and when he receives my letter, he moves the corresponding piece on his own board. Then he writes back with his move. I move the piece for him on my board and the game proceeds thusly.”

  “But... it must take months!”

  “My longest game has been underway for a year and a half. But I think I’ll have him in checkmate in my next letter.”

  Speechless, Amelia could only blink in disbelief. If she married him, all she’d see of the world were the letters he received from a bunch of like-minded, excessively patient chess players. How on earth was she expected to manage another sixty years of such a life, fussing over a bunch of delicate flowers and never seeing the world beyond Lincolnshire?

  Would she stop wishing to at some point? Perhaps marriage to Radwill would eventually wear her edges away until she was smooth and malleable, able to tuck into his dull, quiet life without a peep. At last, she’d accomplish what Genevieve and her parents, with all the money and training, had failed to achieve. Her wildness would be tamed, but at the price of her very self. The woman she could imagine becoming at Radwill’s side was a stranger to her.

  “Do you play, Miss Wheeler?” His expression was hopeful, and so blasted kind, she couldn’t even run screaming from him as she wished to. It wasn’t his fault. He was a good man. And everything her mother could ever wish for.

  “Not at all.”

  “Oh, what a shame.”

  “But I’ve wished to learn,” she amended rapidly.

  “Well, if I’m not too forward, perhaps we might take a look at Lord Tewsbury’s chessboard when we get back. I can walk you through the basics.”

  “I’d like it more than anything.” Chess had always struck her as the most tedious game imaginable. It would take all her self-discipline to pay attention to his instruction.

  “Consider it done. Of course, it’ll be years before you’re any sort of proper playing partner. And the female mind lacks the necessary agility for the strategy necessary in chess. But I can get you started.”r />
  This was not the time to mouth off with an outraged defense of her sex, no matter how badly she wanted to. Besides, Radwill was by no means alone in his belief. Men like Nate—who could recognize and appreciate a woman’s merits, who could allow a woman to best him without damage to his sense of masculinity—were rare indeed. It wasn’t Radwill’s fault he failed to achieve that lofty goal, right? No one did. No one except Nate.

  “Lord Radwill,” she said bracingly. “How long has your family been in Lincolnshire? I’m sure the family history must be quite interesting.”

  Radwill launched into a truncated family history, not particularly boastful or stuffy. He was modest about his lineage, but quietly proud all the same. It was a good family, well established and imminently respectable. Her mother would be delighted if she brought him home. That thought was all that allowed her to carry on the conversation with any sort of enthusiasm at all. Radwill was Mama’s dream come true and Amelia wanted, more than anything, to give her whatever her heart desired.

  When it was finally reached, the Devil’s Kneading Trough turned out to be an epic disappointment. It was nothing more than a wide valley slicing through the countryside, perhaps a mile long, hedged on either side by gentle rises, notable only because they weren’t quite as flat as the surrounding Downs. It was on one of these low rises that the party from Tewsmere stood to survey it. Far from diabolical, it currently held a herd of cattle, idly grazing and swatting at flies.

  “Well,” Radwill began. “It certainly is...wide.”

  “Isn’t the view magnificent?” Evelyn enthused.

  “Quite,” Kitty agreed.

  To Amelia, who’d grown up staring out across the turmoil of the English Channel from the docks, the Devil’s Kneading Trough was nothing more than a couple of unexceptional hills and an empty valley between them.

  “One can almost see Satan himself kneading bread dough,” she said. “How diabolical.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Oh, Miss Wheeler, you’re so wicked.”

  “Hmm. Yes, I’ve been told as much. Often.”

  Radwill leaned closer to her. “It does seem rather a long way to walk for a bit of a view.” Finally! Some sign of life from him. He was having a less-than-generous thought about their hostess. Amelia could expound at length on the subject, but she listened to the little Genevieve in her head warning her it would be unladylike. Instead, she summoned every diplomatic skill she’d been taught.

  “She’s excited to show off her home county in its best light,” she said, smiling indulgently in Evelyn’s direction. “Such enthusiasm is noble.”

  Radwill smiled at her. “You’ve a very kind heart, Miss Wheeler.”

  She suppressed a snort of laughter. If he could hear her thoughts regarding Evelyn, he wouldn’t think her kindhearted. He’d think her nearly a criminal. “Still, it’s a lovely day to spend outside, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely. And in such delightful company. Might I walk with you for the return?”

  She tried hard to feel some joy in her apparent success securing his interest. “I’d like it very much.”

  He offered her his arm, and she tucked her hand into his elbow, trying to picture herself walking at his side for the rest of her days. Her usually vivid imagination refused to cooperate. All she could see was day after day of sameness and boredom, exactly like today.

  The party began to make the long walk back. Evelyn and Kitty were chatting with Will and Tony in front. Nate and Julia followed, Nate’s head bent down to hear Julia. They seemed quite absorbed with each other. It was more than a polite conversation like the one she was doggedly maintaining with Radwill. They were having an actual exchange of ideas. She couldn’t begin to guess what they’d found to engage them both to such a degree. Perhaps Julia was interested in Nate...properly interested. And he’d already made his intentions toward her clear.

  As impossible as it seemed, Nate might succeed in securing Julia’s hand before she’d done the same with Radwill. Her stomach plunged sickeningly at the thought.

  He could do much worse. Perhaps Julia was not the most talkative girl, but what she said always seemed to be genuinely meant. She didn’t flutter and flirt like Evelyn and Kitty, and, although she kept her own counsel, it wasn’t hard to notice there was quite a formidable intelligence behind those striking blue eyes. Nate might have been pursuing her for her title and connections, but he could do worse for a wife. She was a lovely girl, intelligent and refined, and the precise opposite of Amelia. As Julia’s whole face lit up with excitement and her hands waved as she described something to Nate, it was clear a true connection had formed between them.

  How could she blame Julia for that? Nate was fascinating. Aside from his obvious physical appeal, he was a man of the world. He’d been everywhere, seen everything. He’d started with nothing to his name and transformed himself into the wealthy gentleman he was today. Anybody would admire him. Of course Julia wanted him. Any sensible woman would. It was only Amelia who wasn’t allowed to.

  Chapter Eleven

  “So you see, Miss Wheeler, the dissolution of the monasteries was the best thing for everyone,” Lord Radwill concluded, settling back in his chair. They were continuing the conversation begun on the long walk back from the Devil’s Kneading Trough, although now it was many hours later, after dinner, in the drawing room.

  Amelia thought perhaps the peasants who’d farmed the lands for the monasteries and been left starving when the Crown seized them might have argued with Radwill’s assertion. She didn’t share her opinion, though, since being a promising marital prospect meant leaving her knowledge and opinions at the door.

  “I’m sure you’re right. My, Lord Radwill, I am so parched. Shall we have some tea?”

  Radwill sat up suddenly, leaning into her. “George,” he murmured.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Perhaps you might call me ‘George,’” he said, looking pointedly into her eyes. “And you might give me leave to call you ‘Amelia’?”

  This was undoubtedly a sign of success. He was interested enough to suggest this depth of familiarity between them. Forcing a smile, she used the same intimate, almost-whisper to answer him. “George, then. Shall we get some tea, George?”

  “I’d like that, Amelia.”

  It was working. Radwill—George—wanted her. If she could stay the course and encourage him, he might even ask her before the house party was over. Her heart tripped, but for all the wrong reasons. Instead of elation, she felt a low, bubbling panic.

  After he proposed, she’d have to marry him. She’d have to spend the rest of her life as his wife—Lady Radwill. Now she understood Victoria’s grim resolve when faced with her marriage to the heir to the Duke of Waring. For Victoria, their match that, on the surface, looked like any girl’s dream, was nothing more than a life sentence to be endured.

  Victoria’s marriage was not happy. Her husband lived abroad in Italy and they rarely even spoke. Judging from her letters, she’d found some measure of peace for herself without him. She had her house and her tenants to look after. She seemed, if not exactly happy, content, at least.

  Perhaps she’d find the same with Radwill. He was kind and polite. He wouldn’t be cruel to her. He’d be a considerate spouse. The worst she could say about him was that he was dull. She would lack a scintillating partner in life, but like Victoria, perhaps in time, she’d find other means to fulfill herself.

  Radwill stood before her and offered her his hand. Amelia steeled herself and took it. He escorted her over to the tea cart where Evelyn was pouring for Tony.

  “Ah, Lord Radwill, Miss Wheeler. Tea?”

  “Yes, please, Lady Evelyn. Thank you.”

  Radwill and Tony engaged in some small talk as Amelia sipped her tea and looked about the room. Nate and Julia were in a window seat, deep in conversation again,
which she tried not to let affect her.

  Across the room in the other direction, Mr. Cheadle was talking with his friend, Mr. Morley, whom she’d finally met briefly at dinner. As Evelyn had alluded, Mr. Morley’s dress and manners clearly marked him out as middle class, and perhaps only barely, which made his connection to Mr. Cheadle even more puzzling. Considering they were friends, there seemed to be a considerable amount of hostility between them. They were both scowling, conversing in low, clipped tones. Why had Mr. Morley even come here when he seemed to dislike Cheadle so much? Nate was likely right. Her interest in Cheadle’s personal affairs was impolite. But she couldn’t help it. Something was off and she wanted to know what it was.

  Well, she hadn’t even properly spoken to Mr. Morley yet, and this was a house party and he was a guest. There wouldn’t be anything untoward about making some conversation, would there?

  “Would you excuse me?” she said to Radwill. “I have yet to properly meet Mr. Cheadle’s friend. I think I’ll go get to know him a bit.”

  “Oh yes,” Evelyn said. “I’m sure you’ll have a great deal to talk about.”

  There was no missing her thinly veiled insult. Amelia could only assume she was alluding to Mr. Morley’s obviously common origins. It was a wonder Evelyn had even asked him to stay, unless she wanted more fodder for sport at someone else’s expense. If that was the case, he had her sympathy, and it made her all the more determined to talk to him.

  Morley and Cheadle were engrossed in their conversation, angled toward the wall, leaning in until their heads were only inches apart. For a moment, she reconsidered. It looked as if outsiders wouldn’t be welcome. But her alternative was to return to Radwill’s side and she’d had about all she could take of pretending to find him fascinating. They didn’t notice her approach, as they were too focused on their discussion. As she grew near, she heard Morley murmur, “She’s getting impatient, waiting in London.”

  “Tell her it’s not a quick business,” Cheadle snapped.

  “I have, but you know her.” Morley unfurled a lazy, knowing grin as he said it. “Then again, I suppose you do know her, eh?”