Falling in love destroyed the best-laid plans.
Amelia filed paperwork in her desk, half an ear closed as Cousin Lydia droned on about the man she’d met. Mr. Brighton, the epitome of honor and goodness. So handsome that just his visage made Lydia’s knees weak.
And so forth.
Pressing her lips firmly together, Amelia closed the drawer to her desk a little too hard. The smack of wood colliding with wood sent a satisfied sensation through her, though. One duty completed, a million more to go.
“Are you listening?” Cousin Lydia had draped herself across the small couch on the farthest wall. Now she pushed herself into a sitting position and eyed Amelia.
“I certainly am listening, and I have to say that his qualities are simply overwhelming me.” She pushed her spectacles up to more firmly look at her cousin. “You do realize his attributes do not negate his faults, correct?”
“Oh, stop being so prissy.” Lydia’s blue eyes twinkled, and a saucy smile played about her lips. “The goal was to find me a husband, not a fortune. If it were not for your contacts and careful planning, I would never have been allowed entrance into Almack’s. Then I would not have met my future husband. And I am certain Mr. Brighton shall be proposing, for he has orders to ship out at the end of the year. I plan to go with him.” A lovelorn sigh erupted as she slumped back onto the couch, her gaze drifting off to a different place.
The future, if Amelia had to guess, full of frothy dresses and giggling children.
Amelia frowned and looked away. Once upon a time she had dreamed of the same, but no more. To find a trustworthy male proved almost impossible, she’d come to realize. Banishing the thought of Lord Ashwhite’s wayward tongue, she surveyed her new desk.
Rather big, it fit nicely with her needs and had been a kind concession on Eversham’s part. Though she’d been at his estate for only three days, she found herself longing for her London home with its huge windows and promise of private independence. The thought of picking up her paintbrush filled her with a desperate hunger for space and light, for aloneness.
At least Cousin Lydia had met her at the estate and helped her settle in, but she’d be leaving this morning to return to London.
Swiping the invitations she’d recently finished writing, Amelia stood. “Try not to give this suitor of yours any promises until I hear from Mr. Ladd. For all you know, this Brighton is out to cause a scandal.”
She grimaced at Lydia’s unladylike snort.
“I very much doubt that,” Lydia said. “He is the second son of an earl and adores his career. He absolutely would not seek a scandal. In fact, you should not waste your money on Mr. Ladd, for there is nothing that will stop me from marrying Mr. Brighton.”
Amelia had to bite back her frustration. Cousin Lydia was much more stubborn than she’d originally realized. “He is simply not what I envisioned for you.”
“Well, you can’t control everything. Surely you realize that?”
Amelia made for the door and beckoned Lydia to follow. “Control is not my intent. I simply want to see you happy.” Even as she said it, though, she wondered. Why should she care if Lydia found happiness with a common man? Was she so shallow to look for only titles and fortunes?
Shrugging the unpleasant thought aside, she turned to her cousin. “Remember, it is my job to help you find the proper husband, one you can love forever, not one for whom you’ve developed an affection.”
For such emotions were useless in practical living. They complicated life and caused heartache. She squared her shoulders and marched into the giant hall of her brother’s mansion. She’d grown up here, and it rankled to find herself once again at home, feeling like an unwanted child.
Eversham stood at the foot of the stairs, examining his watch.
“Brother,” she called out. “To whom shall I give these invitations?” They’d taken longer than she expected. A marquis’s presence would bring a large turnout, which was what she wanted. After this house party, she imagined she’d have a good idea of whom to invite to Lord Ashwhite’s party. Perhaps even make it a weeklong affair with games and music.
Eversham looked up. His hair was tousled this morning, and his cravat was crooked. Amelia frowned at the absentminded look upon her twin’s face.
“Is everything all right?”
“Quite fine. I’m a bit late, that’s all.”
“I am planning a party for next week. The invitations are ready and need to be rushed out.”
Ev’s forehead wrinkled. “A party here?”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “Where have you been? I’ve toiled with these since I arrived, and if your wife would ever emerge from her room, I could consult her. But she hasn’t, and so I made plans on my own.”
He groaned and raised a palm to his forehead. “The budget?”
“Do not fear. I am working with your housekeeper on that.”
“Very well.” Eversham let out a deep sigh, as though her very presence caused him grief. “Keep the affair small and light. I don’t want Harriet disturbed.”
Amelia gave him a curt nod and watched as he strode past, his hand briefly lifting in farewell. She glanced at the stack in her hand.
“How will you do that?” Lydia asked from the doorway.
Amelia shrugged, feeling both annoyed and pained by Eversham’s treatment of her. What had gotten into him? Granted, they had never been close friends, but there had always been a bond forged by trust and understanding. “I cannot rewrite all the invitations or change the plans for a soiree. He simply must understand that this is my home now, and if he insists I live here, then things may change.”
Lydia only lifted a brow.
“I tried repeatedly to speak with Harriet. She has refused to give me an audience,” Amelia felt compelled to explain. In fact, she’d been made to feel unwelcome here and couldn’t understand why Ev didn’t let her stay at his London house. It was those ridiculous wagers at White’s. What did those gentlemen know, who did nothing more than sit around arguing politics and gambling away their money?
“Do you have your visit to Newgate today?” Lydia’s gentle voice brought Amelia back to the present.
She nodded. “Do you wish to join me?”
“No, Mother has planned an outing for us this afternoon.” Amelia handed her stack of invitations to the butler, who walked around the stairs at that moment. “Please see that these are delivered immediately,” she told him. She returned her attention to Lydia. “Now, do you have a meeting with Mr. Brighton today?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Can you put it off until I see Mr. Ladd?”
“Absolutely not. I told you, nothing he says will change my mind.”
“But something is not right,” Amelia persisted despite the mulish expression upon her cousin’s face. “At least let me prove that he’s suitable for you.”
“I feel in my heart that he is. Really, cousin, you must know that not all people are hiding some horrible secret in their past. He is who he says. Why can you not accept that?”
“It makes no sense to merely take him at his word.” Amelia felt irritation building and tried to suppress her temper. Logic and order. That was what was needed here, not a willy-nilly emotional outburst.
“I trust him,” Lydia said with remarkable calm. And it was in her eyes as well, a peaceful look Amelia found herself envying. “You will have someone to trust someday, too. Don’t shake your head at me. You will.” Lydia hugged Amelia. “I enjoyed our morning together. I’m going to scrounge for some more of those delicious cookies while I wait for Mother to show up. Enjoy your time at Newgate.”
“I’ll try...” It was often painful to see how the women and children at Newgate were treated. Though she wrote letters on their behalf, Amelia often thought she should be doing something more. Mrs. Fry spoke of organizing a kind of aid society, and Amelia felt that would be beneficial. She’d considered starting it herself, but since Mrs. Fry evinced formidable organizational skills, sh
e’d leave the details to her.
She glanced once more up the stairs, wondering at Harriet’s absence of late. Was she ill? If so, wouldn’t Ev say so? She grimaced. With the way things stood between them, perhaps not.
She retrieved her things from the parlor. The curricle was to be ready at noon, which must be nearing. Arms full of clothing and the fresh bread she’d snagged from Cook this morning, she walked outside and waited for Ev’s curricle to be brought around.
The day was filled with the sounds of twittering birds and the whisper of a soft breeze sweeping through the branches of stately oaks. Sunshine glowed against the grassy lawn.
How many times had she played here in her youth? Chasing Ev, laughing and dreaming? No worries of grass in her skirts, of maintaining proper posture or impressing stuffy old ladies. Years when Ev had been her playmate and not her keeper. Then their parents had died, and everything had changed.
A hackney came bouncing down the drive, sending clouds of dirt to trail behind its rushed progress. Amelia squinted but saw no crest upon its side. The driver stopped in front of the terrace and the side door opened.
* * *
Spencer dismounted from the hackney, great rushes of relief spiraling through him when he saw Lady Amelia standing on the porch. His worry had escalated over the past three days, and he’d finally decided a visit was in order. The last time he’d seen her, she’d rushed off in a huff, and a bad feeling had plagued him thereafter. Especially when Eversham had been quick to turn on him for knowing about Lady Amelia’s jaunts and not saying anything.
That had not been fun to explain.
He paid the driver and waved him off before turning his attention to the woman before him. Her foot tapped, and she wore a scowl. Spectacles glinting beneath the sun’s hot rays, mouth tight, she quite obviously held a grudge against him. He bowed to her and grinned when her scowl deepened.
“My lady, you look resplendent,” he said. And she truly did. Though she’d chosen a simple dress in a pale lavender shade, it complemented the fairness of her complexion. Her hair was done up, pulled away from her face—
“Don’t patronize me, Ashwhite.” In her miff, she left the title off his name. He found he rather liked it. He also liked the determined glare upon her face. “I know exactly how I look, and it is an appearance suitable for a jail, not a ballroom. What reason are you here, pray tell? For I am to be on my way in minutes.”
He advanced up the steps and noted how she stepped back. “I apologize for my tardiness, but I’ve come to speak of the other day. Unfortunately politics stole my time, but now we’ve a break, and I wanted to speak with you.”
“About business, I’m sure.” She looked at him over the rim of her glasses.
An alarming urge to knock the spectacles off her face and kiss her silly slammed into him. He frowned. “Not quite.”
“Well, stop staring at me that way.” Her chin lifted, and she looked past him. “We are business partners. That is it. Do not think you can go traipsing with me on any more adventures. If I’d thought you’d go tattling to my brother at your first opportunity—”
“Now, hold on.” Spencer held up a hand. Irritation spiked through him. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you pretending you don’t know?” Her brows furrowed, and those pretty lips of hers pursed again. “Very well. I shall spell it out for you. My visit to see Mr. Ladd is none of Ev’s business, and I certainly did not expect you to share that with him.”
Well, this explained her strange behavior. He didn’t like it. Growling low in his throat, he stepped closer. “I don’t tell tales, my lady. Perhaps you should work on your assumptions.”
“You deny it?” She set her chin and threw him a belligerent look.
“Vehemently.”
She glanced away from him, a soft flush suffusing her cheeks. “I find myself wanting to believe you, but it doesn’t change the lesson learned.”
Spencer took a deep breath to calm his temper. At the moment he battled two instincts: pull her close and kiss the downturn of her lips away or throw his hands in the air and stomp off. Obtuse woman. He moved back, plunging his fists into the pockets of his light waistcoat.
“Dare I ask what this lesson was?” he asked drily.
“Never trust a stranger.”
“I’m a stranger?” Incredulity lit his temper once again. “Madam, you are illogical and entirely ruled by your emotions.”
“I certainly am not.” She glared at him, hugging her arms to herself. “My practical nature is one of my assets, I assure you.”
“That’s a humble way to see yourself.”
“You insulting man. I trusted you to keep our trip to Mr. Ladd’s a secret.”
“And I did,” he enunciated very slowly.
Her eyes flashed. “How else would Eversham know my whereabouts? There is only one other way...” She trailed off.
“He’s following you,” Spencer supplied, giving her an arch look.
“Could he be?” Surprise, maybe hurt, scattered across her face and pulled those lovely lips into a frown. “But why? Can he care so much about reputation?” The confused sadness of her face gripped Spencer in a way he didn’t care to examine.
Throat tight, he gestured to a bench situated against the stone wall of the terrace. “Have a seat.”
She seemed not to hear him, and so he carefully took her arm, which felt small and light beneath his touch, and guided her to the bench. Sitting beside her, he waited.
“He’s been so distant lately,” she finally said. “And he looks at me as though I’m an unwanted responsibility, a burden. Never before has he treated me so.”
“What do you think has changed?”
“When he married four years ago, I believe he saw that I am not an ideal lady.” She looked at him with sadness in her dark eyes, which contrasted so beautifully with her skin.
He mentally shook himself. Where was he going with all these thoughts? He had a wife to find, and Lady Amelia had been quite clear about her stance on marriage. Still...he took in how he felt sitting beside her, the gentle curve of her cheek as she stared out over the lawn and that tapping foot of hers, which signaled an active and ready mind.
He probably liked her more than he’d ever liked another woman. And there had been plenty of women to like.
Yet he empathized with Eversham. His own childhood had been rife with tension as his parents had battled over his mother’s bids for independence. He himself wanted a lady of a certain quality, one who did not make too much of a social fuss but who had a good head on her shoulders.
Leaning back against the bench, he stretched out his legs and mused on the situation. Was Ev’s relationship with his sister so untenable? Yes, Lady Amelia drove him a bit mad, but she was also interesting, with an honorable core that intrigued him.
Deeply intrigued him.
“What do you think, Lord Ashwhite?” Lady Amelia prodded him with her elbow. “Has Eversham fallen beneath the evil influence of his wife, or does he just detest me that much?” Though she smiled, he heard the vulnerable timbre of her tone.
“It remains to be seen, my lady, but I do not think you should overly concern yourself with him just now. Look.” He pointed at the curricle barreling up the lane. “There is your ride to Newgate. Let us visit those in need, and perhaps it is there I will find a woman who steals my heart.”
Lady Amelia scoffed. “I shall be the judge of that. Stealing hearts is not a good basis for marriage.”
They stood and walked to the steps, where the curricle parked. She scooped up a pile of items he hadn’t noticed resting against the stone wall. Deftly he plucked the stack from her arms.
“The gentleman should carry the load,” he said. “What constitutes a good marriage, in your mind?”
It seemed her shoulders stiffened as though she did not wish to answer. “Friendship, mutual interests.”
“Attraction?” he put in, biting back his grin at the firm shake of her head.
“I will accompany you,” he persisted, and gestured to the curricle, where the footman waited to help her in. “I see your lady’s maid is already inside. Let us join her.”
“Very well.” Lady Amelia offered him a somber look. “But prepare yourself for the dankness that is Newgate.”
“I will.” He bit back his humor at the melodramatic words. She had a point, though. He must ready himself to trust a woman who resisted matters of the heart to find him a wife. A woman who denied her own emotions, though it was plain to see she wore them on her sleeve. At this juncture, he had only God and Lady Amelia to trust to sort out this situation.
He couldn’t live with himself if he lost the family home. Once again he bemoaned the ultimatum to gaining his inheritance. Though there was his mother’s family estate, a cousin presently cared for it, and he did not wish to usurp another family. The entire situation was ridiculously complicated, and he could blame only himself.
His carefree ways had disappointed both his parents. Now his father was gone, but his mother, despite the unsettled feelings he held toward her, deserved a son she could be proud of.
He would be that son, even if it meant being tied down to someone he disliked the rest of his life. With Lady Amelia on the case, though, he hoped for at least a convenient marriage.
Chapter Eleven
Amelia did not care one whit for convenience.
She surveyed the young lady handing out clean clothes next to Lord Ashwhite. Her glossy dark hair shone with health, cascading down her back in an enviable shimmer of beauty. Rose-hued ribbons accented her chocolate eyes and flawless skin.
A convenient wife did not measure against a smart, compassionate one. And Lady Hope was all that and more. She’d been helping at Newgate for as long as Amelia, though they’d never taken the time to strike up a friendship. They held a mutual respect for one another, though.
Amelia eyed Lord Ashwhite and Lady Hope as they conversed quietly with the young children waiting in line for their portion of goods. They worked well together and appeared to take a mutual liking to each other.
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