Oliver stepped from his study, which was just to the right of the entryway. “Lofton, good to see you.”
“And you as well, Oliver.”
“Are you ready for all of this? The noise, the crowd?”
Conrad shuddered. “I was just this moment dreading that very thing.”
“As you know, I was always a recluse when it came to attending social events.” Oliver glanced at the stairs. “But not anymore. Of course, it’s a small price to pay for having Lucy as my wife.”
“Understood.”
Oliver stepped closer. “Have you and your intended set a date?”
A shiver ran through Conrad, both in terror of spending the day with their mothers and in anticipation of that night, alone with Amelia. “Yes, the banns have been read so it will only be a few more weeks.”
“The time leading up to a wedding can be stressful, but if it’s the right person, there’s nothing to fear.”
Conrad’s gaze snapped to Oliver’s. Is my fear visible on my face? “Yes. Of course.” She’s the right one for me, but am I for her?
Laughter floated down from the upstairs. Both men turned toward the staircase. Lucy descended first, looking lovely in a pale pink gown. Her dark hair was swept up and her brown-eyed gaze was only for her husband.
That was as it should be. Those two belonged together. He’d always regret his deception at trying to keep them apart, but was eternally glad that he had failed.
Amelia followed. She paused at the top of the stairs to brush a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Conrad’s heart lurched. Her peach-colored gown complemented her red tresses, which were swept up except for a few tendrils left hanging around her ears. So lovely.
Amelia stepped carefully down the steps, keeping her hand on the wooden banister the whole way. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners when she saw him. Is she really so very pleased to see me? Me?
When Lucy reached the bottom of the stairs, Oliver stepped forward and took her hands in his. He kissed her cheek. “You look lovely, my dear.”
She smiled. “Why thank you, kind sir.” Her hand pressed against her middle. She smiled. Oliver looked down and smiled, as well. Did the couple have a babe on the way perhaps? What delightful news that would be for them.
Will I ever have an heir of my own? A true heir from my own loins, and not a child who lives a lie, as I did, as to his parentage? He could envision a small boy or girl with red hair and green eyes. Hopefully any children they might be blessed with wouldn’t resemble him in looks.
Or personality.
He shook his head, pushing away the negative thoughts and focused instead on Amelia as she reached the final step. She smiled at him, her lips not quite closed, leaving a tiny view of white teeth and what he fancied as an invitation to taste her kiss again.
Stepping forward, he took her hand and raised it to his lips for a light kiss. “You’re… beautiful.” The words he longed to utter, the deepest emotion from his heart, stayed buried. You’re the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Words can barely describe the mesmerizing effect you have on me with a single glance or a light touch of your hand. I want to spend the rest of my life basking in the warmth of your love.
Amelia’s cheeks colored with a pinkish hue that only enhanced her countenance. “Thank you.”
“Lofton, Amelia, ready to depart?” Oliver and Lucy stood close to the front door, dressed in their outer garments.
Conrad raised his eyebrows at Amelia. “Ready?”
She nodded and laughed. The lady certainly did enjoy her outings. Will there ever be a time that I actually look forward to them, too?
The time in the carriage seemed to go by much too quickly. Oliver and Lucy sat huddled together on the seat across from them, seeming to have no interest in anyone but each other. They whispered and laughed softly, sharing something that was special to them and only them.
Warmth covered Conrad’s hand. Startled, he glanced down to see Amelia’s white glove holding his. Warmth of a different nature spread through him. Of course, thoughts of wanting to hold her, kiss her, floated across his mind. But this… this was even more. It took hold of his mind and heart, beckoning him to take a chance and trust this woman. To resolve to pledge his life to her heart, mind and soul and to never let go.
It must be love, mustn’t it?
Amelia sighed and leaned against his shoulder. Was she having the same thoughts? Of their impending marriage and life together? If so, did it please her?
She closed her eyes. Her mouth curved up at the corners as if she had a delicious secret to tell, but wasn’t quite ready to share it yet. If she was thinking of him, then indeed she seemed content.
I hope it is so. Please let it be so.
They passed several other carriages. Small groups of people hurried on foot down the sidewalks to their destinations. Conrad supposed the streets were normally as busy, but since he’d never been one to be out much, he’d had no knowledge of it.
The carriage slowed and pulled up in front of Almack’s. Their party had arrived right on time, but many other carriages were already situated nearby. The footman assisted Lucy and Amelia safely to the ground. Oliver and Conrad followed.
Amelia huddled close to Conrad against the breeze. He only wished it was colder so she’d never step away from him. He smiled. That would be one advantage of the winter months.
Inside, they handed their wraps to the maid who stood near the entrance. Then they moved through a small crowd to reach the ballroom. Conrad squinted against the brightly lit room. Enough candles had been set afire to light all of London. He blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted. The Shipleys as well as Amelia seemed not to have the same problem, though. Must he always be the one for which everything was more difficult? More of a challenge? He’d been told by a physician once that his light-colored eyes would be more sensitive to the light. He hadn’t believed it at the time, but perhaps he’d been correct.
Conrad stood staring at the large mass of people, some dancing and even more standing or sitting in chairs around the perimeter of the floor. Loud voices and music. The room too warm for comfort. Too many bodies pressed closely together.
This is why I’ve always avoided balls.
Laughter from just ahead of them caught his attention. Two matronly women were cackling as loud as hens. He squinted at their outlandish headwear. Oh no… not here, too.
The women’s hats were adorned with brightly colored feathers. And birds. One bird was sitting atop the hat and appeared to be nesting. The other hat’s atrocity was a bird affixed to the side as if in flight. Conrad shivered. The horror, the injustice. Was there not anywhere that was safe from bird lovers?
A man behind them puffed on a cigar. The smoke floated past Conrad and attacked his nose and mouth. He coughed loudly, causing the group of women in front of them to turn and stare.
Wonderful. The evening has already begun to decline. First, frightening fowl on hats and now asphyxiation by smoke.
“You poor dear.” Amelia rubbed his lower arm. “Would you like me to get you something to drink?”
He hacked again, sounding every bit like a winded donkey after a day long ride. Why oh why does this happen when it’s least appropriate? He tugged his handkerchief from his pocket and shook his head.
“Perhaps you’d prefer to sit down?” She smiled, but her gaze drifted off to the dancers on the ballroom floor. It was as if she couldn’t stop watching them.
She obviously loved what she observed. The ballroom. The dancers. The noise and confusion.
He loathed it. All of it.
But I love her.
Conrad pressed his handkerchief to his mouth a final time before replacing it in his pocket. I will do this… for her. He forced a smile. “Would you care to dance?”
It seemed not possible and yet the proof was before him. Amelia, with her eyes lit from within and her smile so wide that dimples appeared on her cheeks, was even more beautiful than before.
Takin
g her hand, he kissed it, and then led her to the middle of the dance floor. Whispers reached him.
“Isn’t that Lord Lofton?”
“He never attends.”
“Why is he dancing with Miss Talbot? Are they…?” Gasp.
Conrad rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the voices. Just wait until Amelia and I marry. That will cause an even greater stir.
Amelia tapped his shoulder. “I thought you wanted to dance?”
“Hmm?” He looked around and realized they were the only couple not moving. “Ah, yes. I suppose it would make more sense if we moved our feet.”
She laughed. “I so love your sense of whimsy.”
“There’s that word. Whimsy. If you’re using it to describe me, perhaps it doesn’t mean what you believe it does.”
Her shoulders shook. “There you are again. Always making me laugh.”
“It’s not my intent, but if it suits you, then so be it.”
She smiled again and then nodded at someone who danced near them that she must have been familiar with.
Conrad recognized many faces, but since he ordinarily avoided outings of any kind, he couldn’t say he actually knew them. Of course, that’s how he’d wanted it. And still did, if truth be known. But Amelia was the opposite of him in that way. In many ways. Would they be content together after marriage? Find enough interests in common to keep them happy?
He tightened his hold on her waist and began the steps to the dance. Although he didn’t attend the balls, his mother had made sure he knew the dances from a very young age. She’d encouraged him to attend, but he’d never had the inclination.
They whirled around the room, skirting other couples as they went. Amelia, with her long legs, was graceful. Though that came as no surprise. He couldn’t imagine anything that she would not be accomplished at. What must it be like to be successful at everything one attempted?
Lucy and Oliver passed to their left. The two women gave small waves to each other. Conrad still couldn’t believe that he now had a friendship with the Shipleys after all he’d put them through in the past. All the more reason for him to accomplish his task of becoming a better man.
Amelia peered into his eyes. How did he become so fortunate to have this woman in his life?
Blackmail has a way of tying you to people and circumstances. No, he didn’t want to think of that. Wanted instead to believe that she loved him just for who he was.
Do you truly believe that a woman such as Amelia Talbot really desires you?
He clenched his teeth. No matter. They were to be married very soon. If it took his last breath, he’d make her see that he was worthy of her love.
The music ended.
She grasped Conrad’s hand. “Let’s get some refreshment, shall we?”
He nodded, but didn’t quite meet her gaze.
“Something amiss?”
He frowned. “Pardon? Just woolgathering.”
“About me, I hope.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
The woman was going to be his undoing.
He accompanied her to the nearest table, laden with tarts of blueberry, cherry and lemon, as well as lemonade. If a person partook of all of them, their lips wouldn’t stop puckering for weeks.
“Lord Lofton, would you care for some?”
He turned his head. Amelia stood very close to him, her lips pursed together. Care for some kisses? Certainly. If she cared not for propriety and wanted to kiss him in the midst of others, who was he to argue?
Before he could lean forward to claim said kiss, however, a large piece of lemon tart was thrust between his lips. He didn’t have a chance to chew before the piece of baked fruit slid unceremoniously down his throat. His eyes bulged and he tried to speak. The blasted thing was stuck!
Please don’t let me die by fruit strangulation…
“Oh dear!” Amelia reached toward the table for something and turned back to him. “Here, this will help.”
A cup met his lips. In his state of panic he’d do nearly anything to remove the offending food from his person.
“Ack.” The lemonade pushed its way past the lemon tart just enough to force the gnarled pastry on down. But so much tartness in one swallow… Surely I will turn jaundiced to resemble said fruit.
Amelia led him away from the table, which was fortunate as several people either grimaced or pointed at him, or both.
“Let’s take a seat over here.” She pulled his arm until he complied and sat down on a vacant chair. He was so in need of a place to rest, he might not have minded if the chair had been occupied when he sat on it. Unless it was one of the bird-hat-wearing women.
Amelia folded onto the chair next to his, her movement pure grace in motion. “Please forgive me. I only meant to serve you refreshment. I hadn’t intended…” Moisture formed in her eyes, threatening to spill over her lower lashes.
I never wish to cause her a moment’s sadness. He swallowed, making sure everything was going in the correct direction down his throat. He brushed her tears away with his thumb. “Please… please don’t cry on my account.”
“Why ever not?”
“I’m not worth—”
Quickly, she reached up and placed her finger over his lips. “Please don’t say that. Not to me. Never to me.”
He blinked. She seemed sincere. Did she really think him worthy? Of her?
Chapter Twenty-three
Amelia blinked back tears. The poor man didn’t think he was worth crying over? What had his monstrous mother put him through? No wonder he hadn’t much experience speaking to women. Had he been under the impression that they would all be like Lady Lofton?
Perish the thought! Her own mother came close, but still wasn’t as bad as his. He seemed to have lived only a partial life. No friends. No outdoor activities. Afraid of birds and animals. Afraid of…
Nearly everything.
Now that I’m here, that will change. He will have a full, rich, happy life with me.
She smiled when Conrad brushed away moisture from her cheek. Such a sweet man. Who would have given him the opportunity? Or if they had, would have told him of his worth?
A raspy voice interrupted them. “May I have this dance, Miss Talbot?”
I know that voice. It couldn’t be… She raised her gaze to the bent old man standing in front of her. She bit back a groan. “Good evening, Lord Griffith.”
Conrad stood and gave a shallow bow. “Lord Griffith.”
The older earl eyed the younger. “Lord Lofton.”
Conrad turned toward Amelia. It would be up to her, of course, if she danced with Lord Griffith or not. A quick look around them showed several people watching. Men from the corners of their eyes and women from behind their fans.
Blast! I don’t want to do this. Etiquette insisted she should. She smiled, certain the corners of her mouth had barely risen. “Certainly, Lord Griffith.”
The old man smiled. His two remaining teeth shifted a little to the side. Actually moved. Distaste made her lemon tart from earlier threaten a very unwelcome return visit.
Amelia stood and curtseyed to the men. “Lord Lofton, please excuse me.”
With a bow, Conrad said, “Of course.”
With her hand placed on Lord Griffith’s arm, Amelia held her head high as if it was all her idea, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. No sense giving the gossip mill something else to whisper about.
The music had already started by the time the older man limped his way to the floor. It was a slightly faster tune and other couples barely missed bumping into them as they danced by.
Amelia gritted her teeth together, hoping it resembled something of a pleasant expression. But the fact that Lord Griffith held her too tight about the waist and drooled on her shoulder made it quite difficult.
Think pleasant thoughts. The Bird Sanctuary. Kittens with balls of yellow yarn. Conrad.
Finally, that last thought accomplished her goal. She relaxed, keeping her mind on nicer things. Happy thing
s. Anything but Lord Griffith. Until he smashed down his boot on the toe of her slipper.
Oh the agony! Tears welled in her eyes. She glared at him, but either he hadn’t noticed mauling her foot, or he was a very convincing actor.
After Lord Griffith’s visit to her home a few days prior, she’d marched into Father’s study and demanded to know why the old man was still lurking about. Father had assured her again that he’d spoken to him and had made clear that Amelia was betrothed to another.
Then why is he dancing with me now?
“Having a pleasant evening, dearie?”
Stop addressing me that way. She forced her eyes to meet his. “Yes, I suppose.”
“Perhaps if you spent more time with me, your evening would improve.”
What was he implying? Did he mean…? The dirty old goat. She tried to distance herself by pushing against his chest, but he was surprisingly strong.
“Now, now, don’t get in a huff. I’ll take my time with you, since I’m guessing you’ve not been touched.”
Amelia gasped.
“You haven’t been touched, have you?”
“O-of course not.”
“Splendid. More for me.”
“Oh!”
Lord Griffith chuckled, but it came out as a rasp.
Amelia shivered. She’d rather die a spinster than marry someone like him. How much longer was the blasted song to last? It seemed to have played for at least a day as it was.
A fit of coughing now accompanied his drool.
How repulsive! Her fingers itched to dig her nails into his hand so he’d set her free.
But she wouldn’t. How unseemly that would be. And he might threaten to tell others that she had treated him ill, and use it against her to force her to marry him. With a sigh that came from somewhere deep inside, she counted the seconds until the music would end.
They circled the outside of the ballroom floor and came back to where they had started. There sat Conrad between two older women, each one apparently intent upon gaining his attention for conversation. His eyes were wide as he stared first at one hat and then the other. As the women babbled over each other, their heads nodded up and down. Birds and feathers flapped and shook.
The Unwanted Earl (The Love Bird Series) Page 17