Did Amelia care? Not for herself, but for her family and for Olivia. Each time Olivia held out her arms to Gretchen, Amelia’s maid, Amelia’s heart cracked a little bit wider. What a terrible thing…not to be able to acknowledge her daughter as her own. Mayhap someday she could. Perhaps she should tell Daniel’s family about Olivia. Wouldn’t Daniel’s family want to know they had a grandchild? That a part of Daniel lived? Guilt ate at her insides over this struggle.
No matter how many times her mother and siblings told her not to feel ashamed, deep down inside, where she answered to no one but herself and God, she was. Now that she planned to leave her daughter here, to go off to balls and soirées in London, Amelia’s guilty pain and shame tripled.
The sound of her brother clearing his throat brought Amelia out of her woolgathering.
“People will always talk. But you’re the sister of a duke, which means the talk will be minimized.” Sebastian paced to the window in the drawing room and peered out into the bright afternoon sun. “Let them talk. They will soon know there’s nothing to talk about.”
“But there is.”
Sebastian swung around and narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, but they don’t know that.”
“This conversation is giving me a headache.” Before Amelia plopped herself down onto the royal-blue velvet settee, she rang for tea.
Once the tea arrived, Sebastian sat beside her and reached for her hand. “I know I’ve not been the easiest brother the past year and a half, with me taking over Hamilton Oil for Wentworth, and for being a man when you needed a woman to help you through.”
Amelia squeezed her brother’s hand and ignored the tears, once again pooling in her eyes. “You helped me more than you’ll ever know.” When her brother’s eyes lit up, she smiled and the crushing weight eased off her chest slightly. Maybe it was true when her mama said her broken heart would heal with time.
“You’ve not seen our brother or Emma since you left for America. Are you anxious?” Amelia asked Sebastian.
Now Sebastian squeezed her hand. “Yes. I made an ass of myself.” His eyes flicked to hers and his face paled. “Excuse me, Amelia. I meant I made an idiot of myself. I never told you the story, but I had asked Emma to marry me.”
“You did?”
“As much as I wish it were not true, it is. I believed myself in love with her. She, of course, tried to refuse my proposal, but I made her think on it. The next thing I knew, I found Emma in Wentworth’s arms in the library and I flew into a rage. I tackled our brother right there in front of Emma. Never mind the hateful things I said to both of them. How can they ever forgive me? I would not be forgiving if the roles were reversed.”
“You would,” Amelia said, surprised by her brother’s confession.
Sebastian’s eyes met hers again. “You don’t know what I said.”
“It couldn’t be all that bad if our brother did not kill you.”
That brought a grin to Sebastian’s lips. “He probably would have except Emma got in between the two of us to stop the fight.”
Amelia gasped. “She did?”
He nodded his head. “She did, and without a care to her well-being. And I’ll never forget the look on her face.” He paused abruptly. “I’ve said too much.”
“Yes, you did. I’ll forget you said anything. I can hardly wait to see little Hamilton. He must be a year old now.” Amelia gave Sebastian’s hand a little squeeze. “Nearly the same age as Olivia.”
He squeezed back. “It’ll be difficult, for both of us.”
“Yes, it will.” Amelia pulled her hand out of her brother’s grasp, stood up, and approached the window. “I believed Daniel and I would marry. How could we have known he would die? To be truthful, I loved him deeply with all my body, heart, and soul. Those memories are enough to sustain me for a lifetime.”
“Are they?” Sebastian’s words traveled across the room. They echoed the ones in her head. To have loved and been truly loved in return should be enough. Had to be enough. Except now that Amelia had experienced love, she missed it. Missed the lightness in her chest, the dizziness in her head, the knowing someone loved her as she loved him.
Did a better feeling exist in the world?
***
For several days in a row Amelia ventured to her favorite spot by the stream.
Each day she spent time with Lord Bridgeton.
Each day she found herself pulled closer toward him.
Each day she glimpsed more and more of his soul, of the man he really was––a man so removed from Society’s gossip about him. How had her fascination with him come about in such a short time? Amelia had fallen in love with Daniel at first sight, could it be happening again with the earl? When she was with him, deep down inside her soul, it felt right. He seemed right. How was she to survive the Season in London when her heart belonged here in the country with her daughter? And maybe, quite possibly, with the earl. I hardly know the earl. I cannot think I love him, will not allow myself to love him.
There were only a few more days left before she travelled to London. The thought created a panic inside her chest. She would be separated from her lovely daughter for weeks, and she would miss the daily meetings she had at the stream with her neighbor, Lord Bridgeton. Here she was again at the stream. Hoping, though she told herself she did not come to the stream exclusively to see him. She kept telling herself that, even though her eyes darted around and her ears listened for any sound or movement. And when there was no sign of him, Amelia tried not to acknowledge that the slowing of her heart confirmed her disappointment.
Amelia sat down on a large rock, removed her boots and stockings and waded into the chilly stream. Something had changed in her of late. She did not come to the stream to daydream about Daniel and his intense green eyes. Instead, pale blue eyes kept appearing.
“Hello.”
Oh, my! Her hand flew to her chest as her heart jumped at the sound of his deep, seductive voice. The warmth of it curled around her body. How did he do that? With her back toward him, Amelia whirled about and walked toward his side of the stream. Actually, with all the dry weather of late, which was so unusual, it resembled a trickling brook more than a stream.
“Lord Bridgeton, how nice it is to see you again.” He seemed different today than in days past. Tilting her head to one side she studied his face. Oh, yes, his eyes. They were clear, no obvious pain clouding them now.
“Don’t you think it’s time you called me William?” he suggested. “The title belonged to my brother and to my father before him. I never thought it fit me.” Some desolate emotion wavered in his eyes, then disappeared.
“If I am to call you William, you must call me Amelia.” Dear Lord, if her mother found out about this private conversation with the Earl of Bridgeton and his request to call him by his Christian name, she would surely have the vapors. “If I may ask, what brings you to this stream today Lord…William?” What a silly question. Ever since their first meeting, they had come here daily hoping to see each other. So why was Amelia playing coy?
William’s lips curled into a devilishly handsome smile. It lit up his eyes, making him look years younger. Mayhap William was not as old as Amelia had first thought. Surely not any older than five-and-thirty, though her first guess had been around forty at least.
“Do I make you nervous?” William asked as he ventured closer.
“Yes… I mean, no.” Suddenly her feet became her focal point. Even so, Amelia watched William’s hand reach out toward her. Behaviors ingrained in her over the years had her wanting to step back. She didn’t, though, and held her breath as his fingers lightly touched her chin, then tilted her head up though her eyes stayed downcast.
“Look at me,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” William whispered, close to her ear, his warm breath caressing her cheek.
Amelia could not look at him for fear he would see the truth in her eyes. The truth that she found him interesting and handsome and
that she possibly desired him––that simply would not do. She could not desire anyone else. She could never be with anyone again. An innocent twenty-year-old should not know desire. Even though she was no innocent, he could not know that.
“I’m sorry, I must go.” As she turned to walk back across the stream, his hand reached out and touched her arm briefly.
“Please don’t go. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.” William walked over toward a large flat rock, sat down, and patted the empty spot beside him. “Please sit with me awhile.”
Amelia, hearing the note of loneliness in his voice, sat down next to the earl, deciding to stay for a while. She smoothed her skirts, covered her bare feet with them, and kept a proper distance between their two bodies. “Tell me, William, what do you do all day here in the country?”
“Besides running the estate? I enjoy looking over the cliffs out into the English Channel. I watch the repairs being made to Dover Castle. I spend time here.”
“Don’t you get lonely?” Amelia asked as she swatted away a bumblebee.
“Sometimes.”
“I’m leaving for London in three days,” she admitted, “and I don’t know exactly when I’ll return. I suppose when the Season ends in late June.” Amelia’s heart lodged in her throat. London? She did not want to go to London. Why did her mother insist she have another Season? Amelia fought down the panic rising up inside her. She would not make a scene in front of William. Besides, she learned long ago how to control her panic attacks.
***
William, becoming serious, stood up and held out his hand to Amelia, offering her his assistance. “Come, I’ll walk you across the stream and see you home.”
When she placed her small soft hand in his, his skin itched from the heat of the contact. The afternoon hours he spent with Amelia, brief though they were, had him experiencing more soft emotions than in all the past twelve years combined. Emotions he thought long dead and buried. Until recently, he believed nothing would ever again move him…
Touch him…
Intrigue him…
Then along came a brooding young lady full of secrets, and his world had turned to vivid shades of color. No more dull and lifeless gray.
“Are you excited for your visit to London?” The pain associated with her planned departure settled deep within his bones. How he wished she did not have to go. In a perfect world, which did not exist, she would stay here and become his friend. Maybe more.
William had believed he had everything in life he needed. Until he met Amelia and realized he wanted more. Wanted more than the loneliness he lived with daily.
The stream was far behind them now, and still she had not answered his query. So he repeated it. “Are you excited for your visit to London?”
“I’m sorry, my mind wandered. To tell the truth, I would much rather stay here. I already had a Season and would rather not repeat the experience.” It wasn’t the words she said but the melancholy way she expressed them that piqued William’s interest.
“Was your first Season that terrible? I know it can be a stressful time for young debutantes, but I always thought ladies rather liked all the socializing, the dancing, and the fuss. And of course, let us not lose sight of the true meaning behind a Season—snare a husband. And not just any husband. It seems all debutantes want a rich and titled one.”
The sound of her laughter lightened the burden in his heart. And when she reached out and wrapped her arm through his, he almost fell to his knees. With the contact all trace of laughter disappeared, and somehow he knew her mind had turned to serious thoughts. How did he know? Mayhap it was the way she gripped his arm, or the way she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it without uttering a word. With her free hand she hugged her boots and stockings to her chest as she had yet to put them on. Crazy as it seemed, despite their short acquaintance, he believed he did know her. Somehow she had reached inside his mind and heart and made herself known. He should have been terrified. Instead, serenity descended around him with that recognition.
“I need to put on my boots. May we please stop here?” Amelia asked.
Amelia sat down on the green grass and began putting on her stockings. William tried to avert his eyes, but the show of her well-turned ankles mesmerized him. How long had it been since he had seen a woman’s ankle? His housekeeper standing atop a chair dusting did not count.
After rising and shaking out her buttercup-yellow skirts so they fell into place, she took his arm again. “That’s much better. The grass tickled my toes. Now back to my first Season. At first I did have a lovely time. And I did meet someone, a special someone. We fell in love. He proposed and I joyfully accepted. A month later he died.” Amelia looked toward the English Channel, off in the distance, and stumbled.
Instinct had William wrapping his arm around Amelia’s waist to steady her. “I’m terribly sorry. How awful for you and your young gentleman. I too know what it’s like to lose someone you love. My brother and his wife died. I loved them both deeply. Time helps heal broken hearts, but we never forget… and we’re never quite the same.” This explained why she was crying by the stream the first day he set eyes on her. Also, why he glimpsed sadness in her eyes each and every time he had the pleasure of her company. Poor Amelia, William knew all too well the pain and heartache associated with losing someone you had given your heart to.
“No. I don’t suppose we ever forget. Or go back to the carefree person we used to be,” Amelia said.
The sadness in her voice caused his stomach to clench. “You are what—and excuse my forwardness—maybe ten-and-eight, if that? When did this all happen?”
During the silence, as William waited for Amelia to answer, he became aware of birds chirping and bees humming as they passed a colorful wildflower patch. Did he even remember the last time he had noticed nature’s creatures singing their song? Meeting Amelia had had a profound and miraculous effect on him. If only he could keep her forever. And then her voice whispered into the air.
“I turned twenty this past January. Daniel died the summer I was ten-and-eight.” The sound of her voice cracking moved him deeply. Here was a young woman who gave her heart away at such a tender young age only to have it ripped from her chest. William prayed for her sake that she would find love again someday. Because he, of all people, knew how having no one to love ate away at one’s insides.
“He survived Waterloo and many other battles with Napoleon,” she admitted, “only to be killed in a hunting accident.”
Ahh, he reflected, a memory dawning on him. Even though he had no social life related to the ton anymore, he did receive the daily newspapers from London. And he remembered reading about the tragic death of a retired decorated captain from His Majesty’s Army.
Once again she lost her footing. This time he paused mid-step. Without giving it another thought he wrapped one arm around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head gently. Without pause, she rested her cheek against his heart. A heart he’d believed was long dead until recently. “There, there, go ahead and cry, I don’t mind.”
“I’m…I’m…sorry.” Amelia’s chest rose and fell rapidly against his as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m not usually such a watering pot.”
“I don’t mind. What are friends for?”
A voice from behind them startled William, causing him as well as Amelia to jump as they turned to see the speaker.
“Get your hands off my sister!”
A tall gentleman with light hair and murder in his blue eyes stomped toward them. He wrenched Amelia from William’s arms and hugged her close.
“How dare you take liberties with my sister?” The man who must be Amelia’s brother stepped back from her and held her at arm’s length. His eyes roamed up and down her body until they settled on her face.
At least he did not seem angry at his sister. William glimpsed concern in his eyes, until the man, once again, looked daggers at him.
“Calm yourself,” William said as he rai
sed one palm. “I would never take liberties with Lady Amelia. She began crying, that is all, and I did what any kindhearted friend would do. I offered her comfort, nothing more, and nothing less.”
“Amelia,” her brother asked in a low voice but loud enough for William to hear, “are you all right? Why have you been crying?”
“Sebastian, do not be angry with Lord Bridgeton. I was upset about Daniel, and he was kind enough not to make a fuss.” Her fingers swiped at a lock of hair that had escaped from its pin. “Sebastian, have you met Lord Bridgeton?”
“No,” Sebastian retorted, “and I don’t care to. Come, Amelia, I’m taking you home.”
It hurt William to hear the hatred in Sebastian’s voice and to witness it in his eyes. This man believed the rumors about him. But then who didn’t? He had never defended himself against the accusations of murder because he grieved and ached for the passing of both his brother and sister-in-law, and he was worldly enough that he knew people believed what they wanted to believe. He was never officially charged with any wrongdoing, but neither had he gone out of his way to prove his innocence. William could not let the truth be known, so he had retired to Dover and lived akin to a reclusive monk. Now, thanks to a young lady, he felt alive again, and he wanted more.
William had a pulse and a heartbeat again.
He heard nature and saw in color again.
All thanks to this lovely, kind, and caring young woman, Amelia.
William followed Amelia and her angry brother, close enough to protect her if her brother became violent or cruel. To protect her if she needed him, but far enough away that he could not hear anything the two said. He would never eavesdrop on a private conversation. After several minutes, it became apparent to William that Amelia had nothing to fear from her brother. He turned around and headed back to the quiet, suffocating walls of his estate.
Strange how his estate had been his sanctuary the past twelve years and yet now he dreaded being alone there.
The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) Page 2