The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga)

by Donovan, Christine

  ***

  Amelia entered the morning room at first light to find the place bustling with people and voices. It appeared her whole family had come. She should have known that not only would her brothers travel back to London with her, but her mother, Emma, baby Hamilton, and Bella as well. In her quick look around the room she spied Olivia, and her heart melted at the sight of her adorable daughter sitting with her nursemaid. Seeing Olivia now, she wondered how she could have forgotten she had a daughter. God did work in mysterious ways.

  A caravan of three carriages left Spencer Estate. Amelia rode with Emma, Bella, her mother, and the Dowager Countess of Spencer. Olivia and Hamilton rode with their nursemaids. The extra carriage housed their other maids and luggage. The men rode on horseback.

  Amelia’s breath caught in her throat when she glimpsed her husband in his black riding garments. It made her wonder if she had reacted in a similar way the first time she met him.

  He was an imposing figure sitting on his black mount. And when he rode he made it look effortless. Rider and horse seemed one. She could understand how she became enamored with him, with his quiet nature, his wounded eyes and soul. If memory served her correctly, he reminded her of Captain Rycroft. Not in looks, but in almost everything else.

  Why did she remember Captain Rycroft, who died almost two years ago, and not her husband?

  “My dear, are you feeling ill?” the Dowager Countess of Spencer asked.

  “No,” Amelia replied, touched by her concern.

  “Amelia,” Bella chimed in, “you made a moaning sound as though you were in distress.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Amelia said as her face heated up. “I did not mean to worry any of you. I’m fine. Truly I am.”

  “Now, now, daughter…” Her mother leaned forward and patted Amelia’s hands that rested on her lap. Well, they didn’t rest exactly. Each hand squeezed the life out of the other. Once her mother let go she flexed her fingers to work out the cramps. “We are all concerned for you.”

  “Mother, I’m fine. I’m getting glimpses and more glimpses into my past––more each day.” Amelia made it sound better than it was. She had been witnessing visions of her past, but not anything major.

  “Amelia,” Emma interjected, “why didn’t you tell us? This is wonderful news. Do you remember your wedding to Bridgeton?”

  “Not exactly,” Amelia answered. She wished she had said nothing about her visions. “I remember little things, such as clothing, smells, favorite foods, and familiar rooms. My chambers at Spencer Estate seemed familiar to me. I felt comfortable there. The previous Countess had lovely taste.”

  “She did have lovely taste. But the previous earl decorated the place,” William’s grandmother said.

  “Then the previous earl, God rest his soul, had wonderful taste. I wish I had known him. My husband thought highly of his brother. And I can tell he misses him every day.” Amelia gasped. “See. I might not remember Bridgeton, but I sense things about him. It is as though we are connected. I might not remember our life together, but when I’m with him or look at him, something deep inside me recognizes him. I’m quite confident my memory will return any day now.”

  As the hours ticked by, one by one the occupants of the coach nodded off. Everyone, that is, except Amelia. Her mind hummed and she could not relax. She looked out the window every chance she got in search of her husband. Why did the sight of him settle her nerves? And then Amelia realized that even if she never got her memory back, her life with William would still be fulfilling. She was sure she would come to love him in time.

  Sadness engulfed her when she parted ways with her family at Wentworth Manor. Amelia knew she had to stay with her husband at Bridgeton Manor. Even so, part of her panicked at being separated from her family.

  ***

  William thought the ride to London would never end. Sitting atop his horse, muscles tighter than a harp’s strings, was agony. He had come up with the idea to put Amelia in harm’s way and had regretted it ever since. No matter how much he told himself it was the only way, his brain had other plans. He could not quiet the screams of warming in his head.

  Every time he looked in the direction of Amelia’s coach, he swore his heart stopped beating. When they finally arrived at Bridgeton Manor, his muscles should have relaxed and his brain should have quieted. They did not, they increased. Once he dismounted his horse and passed the reins over to his groomsman, his attention focused on the ominous clouds hovering on the horizon. “Please don’t let this be a sign of what’s to come,” he mumbled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Duke and Duchess of Wentworth

  Request the honor of your presence

  In celebration of the nuptials of

  The Earl and Countess of Bridgeton

  Saturday, June 10, 1818

  Nine in the evening

  At Wentworth Manor

  Cavendish Square, London

  Amelia’s nerves were getting the best of her the night of the ball. She paced around her old room at Wentworth Manor, causing her maid to have a conniption. Gretchen continually tried to smooth out her skirts and tuck stray wisps of hair into the elaborate coiffeur she had almost perfected. The clock chimed nine, signaling the time Amelia needed to join her family to greet their guests and face the possibility of grave danger. Once again her husband knocked on the door asking if she was ready to go down.

  Amelia, you are a strong woman. You have Smythe, his people, and your family protecting you. After tonight you can live free from worry and start working on your memory and marriage. Work on being the best mother in the world to Olivia. Now, go downstairs and put on a performance worthy of the stage.

  “Gretchen, please stop fussing and let my husband in.”

  William looked splendid in his formal wear. He’d dressed completely in black, excluding his white shirt and silver cravat. One glance at his feet and she hid a smile. Her brother Wentworth and William had much in common. Black boots were her brother’s style. They were her husband’s as well.

  “Is there something wrong with my attire?” William asked.

  “No, nothing at all. You look splendid.”

  “And you, my dear, look beautiful. That apricot dress suits you. And the matching flowers tucked into your hair make me want to pluck them out one by one—I’m sorry. I embarrassed you. I keep forgetting you don’t know me.”

  “Perhaps, after I come face to face with my attacker, my memory will miraculously return,” Amelia said as she placed her gloved hand on her husband’s arm.

  “Nothing would please me more.” William patted her hand. “Are you afraid?”

  “Terrified. I do not believe I will be able to eat anything this evening.”

  “Me neither. My stomach has been revolting all day,” William said as they appeared at the top of the winding staircase. At the bottom Wentworth and Emma stood elegantly dressed, waiting for them.

  “Easy,” William said as he slowed his steps, forcing Amelia to slow as well.

  Amelia curtsied when she reached the bottom. “Wentworth. Emma.”

  William bowed. “Your Graces.”

  “Amelia,” Wentworth said, “you are just in time. Our guests are arriving.”

  “Yes, Wentworth, I am aware of it.” Amelia tried not to feel guilty for being tardy. “Oh, dear…” Her hand flew to her chest. “Yarmouth is the first to arrive. And who is that lady on his arm?”

  “The lady, as you say, is the Widow Baroness Langford,” Wentworth replied. “She was once the most sought-after courtesan in London until she married the Baron Langford. I should ring Yarmouth’s neck for bringing her here tonight.”

  “If he’s the one, I’d enjoy doing much more than that,” William added with a snarl.

  “Gentlemen,” Emma interrupted, “behave yourselves. We have guests to receive and a show to perform.”

  Emma, always the consummate duchess, led them into the foyer where they lined up for the receiving line. Amelia, stan
ding beside her husband, her heart beating furiously, her body trembling, began the tedious task of welcoming everyone to their marriage celebration. Did no one in the ton stay home this evening?

  She knew most attended to hear the gossip being whispered about her and William. That didn’t bother her this evening, as their goal was to catch a murderer. If things went as planned, the gossipmongers would have their juicy story tomorrow.

  When the receiving line ended, Amelia wanted nothing more than to collapse into a chair to give her weak legs a rest. William had other plans. They took to the dance floor as the orchestra struck up the first set. When a waltz played, William escorted her to the refreshment table, spoke words of encouragement, and disappeared with worry etched on his face. The show would begin. Beneath her silk skirts, Amelia’s knees wobbled. The trembling in her hands made it impossible to drink her punch without spilling it over the rim of the glass. She gave up trying and placed the cup on a tray.

  “Excuse me, Countess, may I have this dance?” Amelia was not at all surprised to hear Yarmouth’s voice, although it sent chills up her spine. She may not remember the night he tried to rape her, but she had been told about it.

  “Your Grace,” she said with a false smile, “I would be honored.” Yarmouth led her onto the crowded ballroom floor.

  “I must say I was surprised to get this evening’s invitation. I thought your brother despised me.” He paused and led her into a turn. When she did not respond, he continued speaking. “Marriage suits you. You look lovely. I understand your memory has not returned,” he said as he pulled her in a little too close for proper waltzing standards. His hold was so tight she could not move away at all.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. And no, sadly, I have no memory of the past two years,” she said as she looked him in the eye. She had been told what happened in the garden when Yarmouth had behaved so badly. How could she once have thought him young and innocent? His eyes led her into his secret world of debauchery and violence. Nothing innocent existed inside him. She had no recollection of being engaged to him. She knew only what William had told her. And he’d told her nothing good.

  “Then you don’t remember my deep, dark secrets? Shall I tell you about them?”

  “I…I…” She could not form a coherent word to save her life. She shivered. Did his deep, dark secrets involve trying to kill her?

  “Have I shocked you with my candid talk?” Yarmouth said as he twirled her around. “I’m surprised anything shocks you since you are married to Bridgeton. Everyone knows how his tastes run.”

  Once again Amelia words failed her.

  “Have I rendered you speechless?” Yarmouth said pausing to bow as the music ended. “Too bad you did not marry me. I can give you things Bridgeton cannot.”

  Amelia’s brows drew together in confusion. She did not have time to ponder more because Sir Phillip Trenton approached her, escorted by none other than her husband. Would this night never end?

  “My dear, may I present my late sister-in-law’s brother, Sir Phillip Trenton. Sir Phillip, this is my wife, the Countess of Bridgeton,” William said his body tense, his eyes fearful.

  Would the night never end?

  “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Countess. I’m terribly sorry I arrived late and missed the receiving line,” Sir Phillip Trenton said as he bowed over her hand. Never in her life had she conversed with so many unsavory men. Sir Phillip, with his shallow features, pasty complexion, and large girth, not to mention sour breath, was the epitome of what she believed debauchery resembled.

  “Sir Phillip, welcome to Wentworth Manor,” she forced a smile as she pulled her hand out of his grasp. Thank goodness for gloves. “I hope you do not mind if I steal my husband away for a time. I’m in desperate need of fresh air.”

  “Not at all, Countess,” Sir Phillip said as he bowed once again. His eyes full of hatred never left hers. “Bridgeton. Once again, congratulations on your recent nuptials.”

  “That was torture,” Amelia whispered as they left the ballroom by the French doors that led into the candlelit, formal gardens. “What a horrid man Sir Phillip is. And that was after I danced with Yarmouth.” She shivered.

  “My dear,” William said, “after tonight you will never have to be in the same room with either of them. Are you cold? You are trembling.”

  “No. My nerves are getting to me.” She turned to him anxiously. “When do you think this will be over?”

  “Soon, love. Soon,” William replied. He hoped he didn’t lie. The night turned out to be harder than he thought. Every muscle in his body ached. Throbbing pain behind his eyes nearly blinded him. When Amelia danced with Yarmouth, he was thankful she didn’t remember the horrific night at the Northborough’s masquerade ball. He, unfortunately, lived it over and over again as Amelia and Yarmouth waltzed. It took all his willpower not to storm the dance floor and knock Yarmouth on his ass. That was just the beginning of what he wanted to do to the man.

  During their encounter with Trenton, thankfully Amelia said she needed fresh air. William did not think he could control his temper another second the way Trenton looked at them both with pure hatred.

  As the night came to an end and they weren’t any closer to solving the mystery of Amelia’s attacker, Bridgeton’s heart sat heaving inside his chest. Could he put Amelia’s life in danger a second time? He could because the reality of the situation was her life was in danger every minute of every day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “What makes you think today will be the day?” Amelia asked William as they embarked on a large boat her family had hired for the day. It was June eighteenth, and the London Season neared its end. The day would begin with a celebration on the River Thames for the opening of Waterloo Bridge, followed in the evening by a ball at Carlton House hosted by Prince George himself.

  Nerves and excitement hummed through Amelia’s body. Nerves because her attacker had yet to strike again, excitement at finally attending a function hosted by the Prince. Unfortunately Princess Charlotte, whom Amelia had always wanted to meet, would not be attending as she currently resided at Claremont, pregnant with child.

  “Easy, my dear,” William said as he helped Amelia to her seat. The large boat overflowed with friends and family and wicker baskets full of food and wine. All her family sat on board, as well as Amesbury, Myles and his sister Marissa, and Mr. Spencer and his two sisters. Also present were Sir Phillip Trenton, the Duke of Yarmouth and the Widow Baroness Langford. Please, God, let this be over today. She could not go on much longer wondering who had tried to kill her.

  And if God indeed listened to her prayers, could she ask for the return of her memory? Her relationship with her husband progressed onward, but they had yet to be intimate as husband and wife. Guilt riddled her daily.

  William, a good and honorable man, deserved a marriage in the true sense of the word. He deserved an heir. Amelia prayed she could truly love him and give him one someday.

  Everywhere Amelia looked, boats, large and small, crowded the River Thames, rowing their way toward Waterloo Bridge. Her breath caught in her lungs when she caught sight of the large structure looming across the Thames. For a brief moment she thought about Captain Rycroft and how he used to be interested in the construction of the bridge. And how sad it was that he could not see it completed in all its glory.

  After saying a quick prayer for Captain Rycroft’s eternal soul, she reached for her husband’s hand and held it. Her memory might be missing, but William soothed and calmed her. She knew in her heart she had loved him, still loved him. If only she could surrender her body to him. Mayhap tonight would be their time. How long could she expect her husband to be patient regarding the marriage bed? One glance at him and the love shining in his eyes answered her.

  He would wait forever.

  “Can you see the Prince’s boat ahead?” Amelia asked, anxious to catch a glimpse of him again. She had met the Prince on several occasions, but it was always a thrill and an honor t
o be in his presence.

  “Not yet, my dear,” William answered while craning his neck to see ahead. “We might not, with the number of boats attending today.”

  For some unfathomable reason she wanted to see the Prince. Subconsciously, perhaps, she feared for her life and did not want to die without seeing him once more.

  “We have stopped. I don’t believe we can advance any closer to the bridge,” William said as he stood, careful not to rock the boat, and looked around. “Never in all my dreams did I think so many boats existed in all of London.” He accepted wine, cheese, and bread from a servant. “Here, this might help your nerves.”

  “Thank you.” Amelia sipped the bright red wine and nibbled on cheese. “She had not eaten much at breakfast and knew she should eat something. It would be most embarrassing if she experienced seasickness.

  Over the glass of her wine she eyed the Duke of Yarmouth and Sir Phillip Trenton sitting across the boat from her and William. Both men acknowledged her with a nod. Her body began to quiver.

  “William,” she murmured for his ears only, “I don’t think I can go through with this.”

  William, heedless of their surroundings, put his arm around her waist and hugged her close. “I am here, as are the others in your family. Nothing will happen to you. I promise.”

  ***

  As the word “promise” left his lips an ear-splitting crash of wood against wood pummeled William’s ears. The boat tilted dangerous as the bow of another boat hit theirs. Gasps and screams rang out. William tumbled against the side of the boat that tilted precariously.

  His arms reached out for Amelia––to no avail. She fell past him into the water, taking his heart with her. Several other people fell over the side and splashed into the murky water with her. Norwich’s sister, Lady Marissa, fell on top of William, kicking and screaming.