Amelia sat at her dressing table while Gretchen attended to her hair. “Nothing too fussy, please, Gretchen.”
“Yes, my lady,” her maid replied as she pulled her hair back into a soft chignon. “You look lovely, my lady.”
“Thank you, Gretchen. That will be all.”
After her maid left, Amelia studied herself in the cheval mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks looked pale and sunken. Amelia had chosen this particular pink dress because of its high-waisted style and loose flowing skirt. The dress hid her body’s weight loss, yet her face announced it regardless. Butterflies took flight inside her stomach.
Would her husband find her lacking? How should she behave when she came face to face with him? Her hand flew to her chest. What if she disliked him?
“No, no,” she murmured, pushing the thought aside. She would not have married him if she had not liked him, even loved him. She must be brave.
Brave? She laughed nervously and wondered how one behaved brave. She did not have to think upon it long as a bell rang out, signaling afternoon tea.
Where is everyone? She pondered this question as she exited her chambers and descended the staircase, gripping the railing for dear life. As she entered the dark green drawing room her steps faltered.
She was the last to arrive. Besides her family, there were two others present in the room. One gentleman she knew as Mr. Spencer. Could the other be her husband? He did resemble Mr. Spencer. Were they not related? Yes, cousins.
“Amelia,” Wentworth greeted her, escorting her to the settee where she sat between her mother and Bella. “You look well and rested today.”
“Thank you.” Why did her voice sound so distant?
“Let me serve you,” Bella said as she poured tea into Amelia’s favorite china cup and handed her the cup and saucer. “Just how you enjoy it, one sugar and a splash of cream.”
The rattling of the cup and saucer, once in her trembling hands, had everyone’s attention on her. “Please, everyone, stop treating me as if I’m fragile.” Amelia leaned close to Bella and whispered, “Is that gentleman standing over by the windows with Mr. Spencer my husband?”
“Yes,” her sister replied, caution in her tone.
Amelia sipped her tea and studied her husband. Why, she thought, he must be twice her age. She had married an old man. She tilted her head and stared right at him without embarrassment. His eyes locked with hers. His pale blue eyes belonged to a younger man, but one who had experienced pain and heartache. Had she caused it? She did notice something else about his eyes.
They were kind. Her heart beat slowed in relief.
As she took in his face, she noticed he had dark circles beneath his eyes. His cheeks were also sunken, obviously due to weight loss. Newgate. She shivered. The place was not fit for any human being. At least that is what she had been told. His overly long, dark hair had streaks of gray running through it. On him, it suited. He stood tall and thin and was dressed in a dark brown cutaway riding jacket and white shirt. Tan breeches tucked into his leather Hessians.
Amelia admitted to herself that though he’d been in prison and suffered hardship, he still cut a fine figure. Suddenly he smiled at her and her heart flipped. His face softened and she knew without a doubt he possessed a kind and loving soul. And even if she did not remember him, she believed wholeheartedly she had loved him. Remember him she might not, but being here in close proximity with him awoke certain sensations in her body. Her mind might not remember him, but her body certainly did.
“Wentworth,” she said, tearing her eyes off Bridgeton and looking directly at her brother. “May I please have a word with you in private?”
They excused themselves from the drawing room and made their way to Wentworth’s study.
“Are you feeling ill? Is this too much for you?” her brother asked with concern.
“No. Thank you. I am fine. I wish to speak with my husband in private.”
Wentworth gasped. “Private. I would rather—”
“Yes. I’m quite certain you would rather chaperone the meeting. But I must speak with him privately. We have much to discuss. Please.”
“Very well,” the duke muttered. “I will send him to you. And would someone please tell me when you became head of my household?”
Wentworth did not wait for an answer as he knew one would not be forthcoming.
***
While Amelia stood alone in her brother’s study, she inhaled and exhaled slow and steady breaths, trying to calm her nerves. What did one say to the man she had married when she did not remember him? Would he be angry with her for what Wentworth had done to him? Her brother had imprisoned him in Newgate. Not something most gentlemen would forgive.
“Amelia,” Wentworth said as he opened the study door to let Bridgeton enter. “I will be outside if you need me.”
“Please, Wentworth,” Amelia pleaded. “There is no need for you to play guard. I am perfectly safe with my husband.”
“Regardless, I’ll be here,” Wentworth said as he shut the door, giving her no chance to protest.
“I must apologize for Wentworth’s actions,” Amelia said as she sat on the edge of one of the two chairs facing the desk, her back stiff and straight. She gestured to the chair beside hers. “Please sit.”
“Thank you. There is no need to apologize for the duke’s actions. He only has your best interests at heart.” Bridgeton sat down and stretched his long legs out.
His show of ease and comfort did not fool her. One glance at his hands told her they trembled. Knowing he was also nervous calmed her. “Bridgeton—”
“Please,” he interrupted, “call me William.”
“William,” Amelia said, “I am at a loss here.”
“Amelia,” he said, pulling his legs in and pivoting in his seat so he faced her. His kind eyes looked directly into hers. “We are both at a loss. You have been through a terrible ordeal. You do not remember me, although I...” He closed his eyes for a moment. And when they opened again, the anguish she witnessed took her breath away.
“William. I am so sorry. I can see I’m causing you terrible pain,” Amelia blurted out as she sprang up and began pacing the room. “I didn’t even remember my child Olivia. I want to remember. I try, but when I try too hard my head hurts so badly I become nauseous and I must stop. All I know is what I’ve been told. That my family found me in the stream, unconscious.” She paused at the window. As she stared outside into the formal gardens, her vision blurred. “I want to remember what happened. I want to remember you. I want to know it wasn’t you, and I need to remember my life, our life.”
***
William sat frozen in his seat. The sight of his beloved wife, her shoulders hunched forward and shaking, tore at his heart. He knew without a doubt she cried. He was torn. Should he go to her and comfort her? Or would it make matters worse?
Without waiting for a revelation he rose from the chair and hurried to Amelia. Without another thought he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. It took but a moment before she leaned back into him and rested her head against his chest. William signed with relief. He had been so afraid she would reject his consoling.
“Amelia, my dear, I am sorry for what you’re going through.” William rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. “I will do everything in my power to make things right.” He groaned. “I need your help though.”
Amelia turned around and buried her face in his chest. Her loud sobs made him weak in the knees. He would do anything to take away her pain. William whispered soothing words to her while he stroked her back.
The sound of her crying, the warmth of her body pressed to his. The silky feel of her dress sensitized the palm of his hand. The beat of her heart joined his in perfect rhythm.
William had no idea how long they stayed together. It seemed like forever and yet no time at all. Eventually Amelia pulled away. “Please forgive me for crying all over your jacket. I’m not usually such a water
ing pot.”
William reached inside his pocket and handed her his handkerchief, which she took and used to dry her eyes. “No need to apologize.”
“Thank you,” she said.
And just like that they were back to being polite strangers. William’s heart ached at the loss. A moment ago, he had wanted to believe things could go back to normal. He wanted to believe his wife knew and loved him.
“Will you stay here in the duke’s home, or will you come home with me?” William held his breath as he awaited his wife’s answer.
Several emotions flashed across her face. Uncertainty, worry, and the one that shocked him to the core––terror, the sheer terror he glimpsed in her eyes. The fact that she feared him made him feel ill.
“Take all the time you need,” he urged, his heart breaking. “I did not mean to press the issue. I thought if you came home it might help you remember.”
“Yes. I understand. Wentworth has hired runners to protect me and our property. There is no reason they could not accompany me and Olivia home with you,” Amelia said as she opened the door. She turned to her brother, waiting beyond the door. “Your Grace, may we have a word with you?”
William watched, his breath suspended in his lungs, as Wentworth entered the study and took his seat at his desk. He sat up straight and glared right at him. Intimidation would not work. William wanted his wife back and would not leave without Amelia and their daughter.
One glance at Amelia, who sat beside him, her hands fidgeting with his handkerchief, told him of her uncertainty. She spoke of wanting to go home with him, but something about that also frightened her.
“Your Grace,” William began, as the silence in the room tortured him, “I would like to ask your permission to take Amelia and Olivia home with me. I believe Amelia’s memory will come back sooner if she gets back to her normal daily routine.”
“Indeed you do. Yet I must disagree,” Wentworth replied curtly.
“Amelia has informed me you have hired guards. I presume Smythe is overseeing the runners? They can guard Amelia just as well at my estate. I will incur all costs.” William tried to think of anything he could say that would convince Wentworth to agree.
“Please, Wentworth,” Amelia said. “I want to go home with my husband. Even if I can never remember the past, I am still his wife. I must get back to my life. Olivia and I will be perfectly safe with Bridgeton.”
William saw Wentworth struggle, which made him respect him all the more. He truly loved his sister. “I give my consent.” Wentworth glared daggers right at him. “Smythe will be reporting to me daily. If anything—”
“Nothing will happen,” William assured him. Amelia’s attacker would have to go through him first. “She will be safe. You have my word.”
Wentworth said in warning, “You make damn sure nothing happens to her, because if something does I will string you up and slice out your entrails.”
“Wentworth,” Amelia interjected, “you will do no such thing. Besides, I will be safe.”
***
The carriage ride to Spencer Estate took longer than normal. Not only did Mr. Smythe and his dozen Bow Street Runners accompany William, Amelia and Olivia back to Spencer Estate; her brothers, Wentworth and Sebastian did as well. Having her brothers with her lessened Amelia’s anxiety. As much as she believed moving back in with the earl was in her best interests, she worried. Not so much for her safety, but for Olivia’s. Amelia thought about leaving Olivia in Emma’s care, but when it came time to go she could not leave her behind. For her daughter’s sake, life needed to get back to normal. Amelia and Olivia needed to be together to work on their bond as mother and daughter.
Upon arriving, the staff, dressed impeccably in the earl’s colors, greeted them. Amelia wanted to believe they treated her the same as before, but the uncertainty in their eyes and the stiffness in their behavior did little to hide their apprehension. She did not blame them. After all, someone wanted her dead. Perhaps they believed her being in residence put them all in danger. No wonder they were unsettled by her arrival.
After the nursemaid took Olivia to the nursery, Amelia’s maid, who had accompanied them as well, led Amelia to her chambers. Amelia dismissed her because she needed time alone to take in her surroundings. How odd that the room seemed warm and familiar when she did not remember anything else. The physician said that things from her past would come back in bits and pieces. This must be one of the pieces.
This room must hold good memories for her. She had been afraid to come here, but now, her fears were subsiding. She had nothing to fear inside these walls.
Amelia stretched out on the pink-colored chaise and enjoyed the warmth from the blazing fireplace. Her heart slowed. For the first time in days her muscles relaxed and peace descended around her. Amelia could not fight her heavy eyelids any longer, and she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“How is she?” William’s grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Spencer asked, as William entered the drawing room. How he loved his grandmother. Actually, she was more his mother than grandmother as his mother had died of infection a fortnight after giving birth to him. When his father died of a broken heart only a year later, Geoffrey had inherited the earldom at the tender age of three.
“Grandmother.” William bowed before her, then bent and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Thank you for coming, but you did not have to leave London on my account.”
“Nonsense. After your ordeal in Newgate, I had to witness with my own eyes that you are well.” Her worried eyes looked him over from head to toe. “You look tired. And would you please eat? You look as though a gust of wind could topple you.”
“Yes, Grandmother, I will. Please tell me you did not travel alone.”
“Nonsense, me travel alone? My maid accompanied me. And my two most trusted footmen.”
“You should have stayed in London with Elizabeth and Mary,” William said. “Who will chaperone them for the rest of the Season?”
“Your aunt will. It is high time she took on the duty.”
William wished he could have been privy to that conversation between his grandmother and his aunt who hated social functions. “I’m quite sure Amelia will be happy to see you.”
“Do not tell fibs to an old lady. If Amelia does not remember you, it is unlikely she will remember me. Now sit down and tell me what you plan to do to remedy the situation.”
He took a seat across from his grandmother and pondered how he would solve the dilemma of Amelia’s missing memory and how to catch the murderer before he succeeded in his task. He hadn’t a clue. Then a thought came to mind. “Please excuse me, Grandmother. I must attend to something.”
William hurried from the drawing room, ignoring his grandmother’s concerned look and sought out Smythe, Wentworth, and Sebastian, who, low and behold, were helping themselves to his brandy in his study. “I do not recall opening up my study to you, Your Grace.”
“I did not think you would mind,” Wentworth said as he stood looking out the double-paned window that overlooked the circular front drive.
William went on to explain his plan.
“You want to do what with my sister? Are you out of your bloody mind?” Wentworth bellowed, which caused William to cringe. Not a good start. “You want me to host a ball in honor of your marriage and invite the two gentlemen we believe tried to kill my sister?”
William tried to sound confident in his plan. “This way we are in control. The killer has no idea he is walking into a trap. And I believe with all my heart it is the only way.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Wentworth turned and faced him with stormy eyes. “If anything happens to her I will kill you with my bare hands.”
“If anything happens to her, I’ll kill myself,” William replied. “Now if you will all excuse me, I need to explain things to my wife.”
As William entered his chambers his mind raced.
What was he doing?
Could he
keep Amelia safe?
Did he really believe he could give his wife back her memory?
William knocked on the adjoining door that led into his wife’s bedchamber. The sooner he told her of his plan the faster they could be in London executing it.
“Amelia,” he spoke quietly as she lay on top of her chaise. Her eyes were shut.
“I’m awake,” she replied. Amelia swung her legs over the side and sat up. “I did sleep, but I awoke a short time ago.” She looked at him shyly and his heart ached. “Is there something you want?”
“May we talk?”
William joined his wife on the chaise lounge; his weight caused the cushion to sink. Her body slid close to his, and they touched. Instantly she scooted away, and once again his heart broke.
“I had a conversation with Wentworth, Sebastian and Smythe. We believe the best way to find your attacker is to bring him to you.”
He continued talking even though she gasped. “We will travel to London and let everyone know your memory is missing.” Once again she gasped. “I believe your attacker will not risk your memory returning, and he will try to silence you.” William reached for her trembling hands. They were ice cold. He rubbed them between his large warm ones. “Smythe and his men will keep you safe. It is the only way to draw the killer out. We need to end this so we can get on with our lives. Please say you’ll do this.”
Time ticked by in silence. Disappointed, William began to rise off the chaise when Amelia finally spoke.
“I shall do whatever it takes.”
William did not know whether he was relieved or sickened by her reply. He hated putting her in danger. But what other choice did they have? The killer would come for her eventually. Why not forward the clock and catch him sooner rather than later?
“My dear, I trust you will be ready to leave first thing in the morning.” William bowed. “Until tomorrow.”
***
Once Bridgeton left her, Amelia lay back down on the chaise and closed her weary eyes. She began counting the beats of her heart, but could not keep up. Deep down inside she knew what her husband planned could work, might work if the culprit did not see through the plan. Did she worry for her life? A little, but she would do anything to keep those she loved safe. Because what if, next time he attempted to kill her, he killed someone else as well? Someone she loved.
The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) Page 19