How long must I wait? Her foot itched to tap her boot with impatience. But no, she mustn’t try Father. Not today. No telling what he had on his mind.
He placed the papers he’d been reading aside and looked up. “Amelia.”
There it was again. Why could he not change it to Kitten? Even an infrequently used Darling would suffice. But she held her tongue.
“You may sit.”
She hurried to the chair nearest his desk and sat, smoothing out wrinkles from her skirt. Amelia lifted an expectant gaze and waited. Again. Father insisted on being the first to speak in any conversation held in his house. Interrupting, heaven forbid, before the approved moment might cause repercussions of a Biblical nature.
“I have something to discuss with you.”
She nodded. Wasn’t that obvious? Since she’d been summoned and all. Perhaps she was overreacting. Maybe he had something positive to say, such as that her mare had arrived, or he’d reconsidered her request to have her room redecorated even though it had been less than six months since the last time.
Father drummed his large fingers on his desktop. The sound, light and quick, was like raindrops on the windowpane. “I know I’ve mentioned in the past that I expect you to marry. Soon.”
No such luck, apparently. Amelia grasped her hands together in her lap. So that was to be the topic. Hadn’t they already had several discussions along those same lines?
Crevices marred his brow as he held out his hand toward Amelia, giving permission for her to enter into the now one-sided conversation. Sometimes she nearly exploded while she sat and waited for the royal tip of his hand. The man needed a scepter. It would make his ridiculous imperial greatness stand out all the more.
“Yes, Father. As we’ve discussed on many an occasion.”
“This time, however, is different.”
Did he wish to marry her off to some foreign prince this time? At least that might add an element of excitement to the otherwise dreary discussion.
“Things have taken a different turn, so to speak.”
That didn’t sound good. Not good at all. Amelia sat up straight. “How so?”
“I’ve mentioned having you marry Lord Griffith.”
She grimaced. It couldn’t be helped. As if by their own power, her lips had curled down in distaste. Whose wouldn’t under those circumstances? Surely any girl would feel the same? “Yes but I—”
“I’ve heard just today that his health is failing. And he has no heir. So…”
“No!” She sprang up from the chair. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
“I beg your pardon?” He crossed his arms over his chest. She’d done it now. He only did that when he was truly vexed.
Her mouth gone dry, Amelia retook her seat. Without quite meeting his eye, she glanced quickly in his direction. “Forgive me for the outburst Father, but I… Perhaps there is another way?” Please let there be something… anything.
“I’m afraid we’re running out of time. I need the money that would come from a… merger of the two families. And you can’t seem to settle on any of the young men who’ve shown you interest.”
Merger? She shivered. “I… But he’s so… And I don’t think I could possibly…”
“Amelia, this is nothing personal. Marriage matches are made every day for reasons of business and convenience. Surely you didn’t think you would marry for love?”
She smoothed down the lace of her cuff. “Well I…”
He laughed. Laughed!
Irritation bristled just beneath her skin. How dare he laugh at her simply because she had the notion to marry for love? To have a man think her the sun and the moon and wish to do anything to make her happy. Others had unions such as that. Why not her?
A sudden vision of Lucy and Oliver Shipley so happy, so in love, crossed her mind. There it was again. The jealous fire that burned across her heart every time she thought of Lucy. Who had everything.
And Amelia would have old Mr. Griffith. It wasn’t fair.
Father stood. “I can see this is difficult for you, Amelia. But I can only wait a few weeks longer. If you truly think you can procure someone to ask for your hand in that time period, then by all means…” He swept his hand in front of him as if the room were filled with suitable marriage prospects.
She stood as well. “You’re saying that if I find someone suitable in that time, then I won’t be saddled with…”
Father raised his eyebrows.
“Uh… married to Lord Griffith?”
“That is correct. But the man in question, if there is such a man, must be well off. Very well off. Preferably titled.”
He gave a pointed look at the door, her, and then back to the door.
Ah… the meeting was at an end. So be it. She headed that direction and let herself out into the hall. It was for the best anyway. She needed time to formulate her plan to find someone.
Amelia walked to the staircase. With each rising step, she fretted more and more. Where was she going to find someone to agree to marry her on such short notice? And it had to be someone rich. And titled.
Rich and titled. Barons. Marquis. Earls.
Earls?
Lord Lofton was an earl. And still unmarried. And she knew something about him she was sure he wouldn’t wish others to find out.
Would it be possible to persuade him to marry her as a means to keep her quiet? She wouldn’t go around telling people his secret, but he didn’t need to know that. She reached the top of the stairs, continued down the hall and entered her room.
Maybe spending some time with her cat would soothe her nerves. Where was Sunny? Amelia could never seem to find him when she wanted to. Just like a cat, though, so independent. But wasn’t that what some people said about her? Never wanting to follow the crowd. Liked to do things her own way. Some people took that as standoffishness, but really Amelia was often insecure, especially around women whom she envied.
A check under the bed and a peek behind the curtains didn’t produce her cat. With a shrug, Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and changed from her boots to her slippers. She stood and headed back out of the room and down the stairs. Perhaps one of the maids let him outside to play. It was a lovely day.
Maybe I’ll go play, too. A smile lifted the corners of her lips. Oh how her mother hated when she acted in an unladylike way. But being spontaneous and daring was so much more fun than sitting idle doing needlepoint. Or worrying herself into a frazzle about finding a husband.
A look to the left and right produced no spying eyes from parents or servants, so Amelia hurried to the French doors of the parlor. From there, she stepped out onto the path that took her to the garden.
She had a sneaking suspicion Sunny was napping on the bench under the rose trellis. That sounded like a very appealing idea to her, as well. Maybe they could nap together. Birds chattered above her from the tall oak trees that lined the garden path. Butterflies in variations of orange and yellow flitted around the flowers. One bold yellow one landed on her shoulder.
“Well hello, there. Aren’t you a beauty?” The butterfly waved its wings twice before flying a crooked path toward the roses. Amelia laughed. How she loved to be outside. Especially in the garden.
Movement from a few feet away caught her eye. “There you are, Sunny.” Her ginger-colored cat lay on his back with his belly facing the sun. When she reached the bench, she stood staring down at him. “Found a good spot for a nap, have you?”
The cat winked one eye and twitched his whiskers.
“Mind if I join you?”
Both green eyes now were wide open. Sunny yawned, but didn’t move.
“Oh, very well, my lazy friend.” Amelia scooped up the bundle of fur and held him close to her chest. His fur was warm from the sun. She sat down on the bench and settled Sunny in her lap.
“How long do you suppose we have until someone finds us out here, hmm?” Amelia loosened the backs of her slippers with the opposite toes. “Ah… Now that’s
nice. Sunny, you’ve no idea how fortunate you are that you don’t have to be encumbered by shoes.” The cat’s loud purr came out as quick and rumbling as a thunder boom.
Amelia laughed. She swung her legs up onto the bench and leaned her head against the other end. Dappled sunlight through tree branches warmed her shoulders. A gentle breeze teased long tendrils of hair close to her face. As gentle as a lover’s hand.
Oh my. Where did that come from? Was it because of her earlier conversation with her father about…?
Old Lord Griffith.
Amelia pressed her lips together. No. She couldn’t be stuck with him for a husband. She just couldn’t. Could she convince Lord Lofton to marry her?
She stayed a few moments more and then reluctantly sat up and placed Sunny back on the bench. “If things go well, my friend, I’ll have a new husband soon. And he won’t be eighty.”
Chapter Two
Birds twittered and chirped in the treetops above her. Amelia sat on a bench beneath one of the many trees of the Regent’s Park Bird Sanctuary. Spending time with nature soothed her soul, and the Sanctuary was one of her favorite places to visit. Sometimes, though, she had to share her space with Lucy Shipley, if they were to draw the same bird for their art assignment. Their instructor must have had a mean streak the day he assigned the two women to be drawing partners, because they could barely be near one another without tempers flaring.
Footsteps approached from her right. Amelia looked up.
Lucy.
So much for enjoying a pleasant morning at the Sanctuary.
Lucy sat down at the other end of the bench. “Good morning, Amelia.”
“Good morning.” Amelia hated to even have Lucy sit near her when they drew. The other woman’s talent was vastly superior to hers. Will I ever improve? So many times she’d thought of giving up. If she couldn’t be as good as Lucy, what was the point?
Lucy retrieved her paper and pencil from her reticule and set the bag aside. Amelia had to admit that the other woman was stunning with her dark curly hair and brown eyes. No wonder she’d had two men fighting over her.
That wasn’t the whole reason, though. Lucy was just plain nice. To everyone except Amelia.
And whose fault was that?
Perhaps… a tiny possibility existed that Amelia had invited Lucy’s rebuff. Jealousy overtook Amelia every time Lucy was near. If Lucy truly was a kind person and she couldn’t get along with her, what did that say about Amelia?
Nothing nice.
She sighed. Time to eat some of her more unpleasant words of late. If being polite to Lucy didn’t work, what had Amelia lost? They wouldn’t be any worse off than they had been.
Amelia leaned over to get a better look at Lucy’s drawing of a sparrow. “My, but that’s lovely.”
A gasp came from Lucy. “P-pardon?”
What did I expect? Does she think I’m being sarcastic? Serves me right. In the past, I would have been.
Amelia smiled. A genuine, I hope someday you can forgive me, smile. “I mean it, Lucy. You are very talented.”
Silence, except for the occasional chirping bird, surrounded them. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Suddenly self-conscious, Amelia glanced back down at her own drawing. Hideous thing it was. Couldn’t even tell what species it was supposed to be.
Lucy cleared her throat. “And yours is quite…”
“Ghastly.” Amelia looked back up. Lucy’s mouth was open in a perfect O.
“I…” Pink colored Lucy’s cheeks and down her neck.
Amelia laughed. “It’s all right. You can say it. I’m sure you were thinking it.”
“Not… ghastly… exactly.” A giggle escaped before she covered her mouth. “Oh dear. I’m sorry.”
“Please.” Amelia placed her drawing to the side of the bench. “There’s no need for you to be sorry. I’m the one…” The rest of her words caught in her throat. Had she ever apologized to anyone before? Anyone besides her parents, that was, since it seemed she could never do anything to please them.
Warmth covered her hand and she peered down. Lucy held her hand and gave a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Tears burned, hovering just behind Amelia’s lower eyelids, threatening at the least provocation to spill down her cheeks.
“Would you… like some help with your drawing?”
Heaviness lifted from Amelia’s chest, a weight she hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. “Yes, I think I would like that very much.”
Amelia handed Lucy her drawing. Lucy set them side by side on her lap. She tilted her head. “I think I see what might be the problem.”
“You do?” She moved closer.
“Your lines are heavy. Do you find that you bear down on the pencil when you draw?”
“I never thought about it. Perhaps I do.”
With a nod, Lucy handed Amelia her drawing back. “Why don’t you show me how you would draw the wing and I’ll watch to see if you’re using too much pressure.”
“That is the wing.”
“Oh.”
A smile played on Amelia’s mouth. “And just what did you think that was?”
Lucy bit her lip against a grin. “The beak?”
Mirth overtook both of them at once. Amelia’s sides quivered. She wiped tears from her eyes. But this time, they were full of joy, not sadness. There had not been a time she could remember laughing with a friend like that. Ducks from a nearby pond quacked in response and the women laughed louder.
That’s because you don’t have any friends. No real ones, anyway.
The thought sobered her.
Lucy lost her mirth as well. “What’s wrong? I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”
And there it was. That was one reason Lucy was liked by everyone. An innate sweetness came from within, something Amelia had certainly never been accused of. It was time for a change. She might not ever be as sweet as Lucy, but she could certainly work on being pleasant. And patient. And… nice.
A tall order, but one at which she was determined to succeed. Perhaps she might even have better luck finding that elusive husband she’d need so badly in the very near future. “No, Lucy. You didn’t hurt my feelings.”
“Then why…?” Lucy lifted her hand, palm up.
Amelia turned so that she could look her right in the eye. “You see, I just realized that I’ve never laughed like that with…”
“With whom?”
Amelia’s shoulders rose in a shrug. “A friend.”
Moisture hovered at Lucy’s lower lids. “Yes, a friend.”
“Now that we’re getting better acquainted, might I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“It has to do with Lord Lofton.”
Lucy’s gaze swung to her lap. “I see.”
“If you’d rather not discuss him, I understand.”
“No, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I’ve known him for years.”
“Well, I know that at one time you were betrothed. Before you met Oliver, of course.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Would you… would you mind telling me what happened?”
Lucy let out a deep breath. “Conrad had pursued me for quite some time, though I had not any interest.”
Amelia nodded. That much she had assumed. “Go on.”
“I came to find out that he was so persistent not from any feelings he had for me but because he wanted my inheritance.”
“Oh.”
“And then, of course, there was Oliver.” A dreamy smile crossed her lips and her eyes drifted nearly half closed. “Even though I thought him at the time to be a Sanctuary laborer and my father was against me seeing him, I still couldn’t seem to stay away.”
“Your husband seems to be a very kind man.”
She glanced back toward Amelia. “Oh he is. I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter husband.”
“So it’s true then.”
“What’s true?”
“You’ve fou
nd a love match.”
“I have. I never thought that I would, but…”
“It’s nice to know it happens for some, at least.”
“Amelia, do you have a certain reason for inquiring about Lord Lofton?”
“Perhaps.”
“Have you an interest in him? For yourself?”
“It has crossed my mind, yes.”
Lucy nodded.
“There must have been reasons, though, other than his want of your inheritance that you turned him down.”
Lucy’s face colored again. A deeper red this time. “There were some things about him I found…”
“Found?”
“Off-putting.”
“May I ask what sorts of things?” She held up a hand. “Again, if you don’t feel comfortable discussing it with me, it’s quite all right.”
“No, I’ll tell you. If you are inclined toward the man, I suppose it’s wise to have all of the information before you enter into a possible courtship, is it not?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Then I will be completely honest with you, since we are friends.”
That last word warmed Amelia down to her toes. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Lucy grabbed a loose tendril of hair and tucked in under her hat. “I suppose for every person there are characteristics physically which spark an interest in someone else. For me, my husband has those. He’s tall, broad-shouldered with dark hair and eyes. But more than that, it’s his heart. He is so kind and generous. And he makes me laugh.”
“Very important, that.”
“Quite.” She smiled. “Does that help?”
“And the characteristics of Lord Lofton that turned you away?”
Lucy cleared her throat. “Well, he’s frightfully thin and pale. And…”
“Yes?”
“His breath, I’m afraid was…”
“I see.” That was something Amelia would have to overlook if she had luck convincing him to marry her. Not something she’d look forward to, but she was running out of time, after all.
“I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”
“No, not at all. As you said, it’s better to be prepared with all of the information beforehand. Anything else?”
The Unwanted Earl (The Love Bird Series) Page 2