“Do you not think a marriage based on love is more beneficial than one based on desperation?”
“That has nothing to do with what I said.” She blinked against the deluge battering her vision. “I think he’s carried her away. Made empty promises.” She waved a hand. “Led her to believe things about himself that are not true merely because he is lonely and about to leave England for parts unknown. He has charmed away her senses.” The last words stopped her cold, for she clearly remembered how it felt to be swept away. The heady exhilaration of thinking oneself wanted, only to discover how mistaken one was...
Ashwhite stepped forward, crowding her. He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her against him. Right there in the street for all to see. His fingers dug into her arms.
“What, pray tell, are you—”
His head lowered, and his lips absorbed the last of her words. For a moment she was too stunned to move. Or perhaps it was that her knees felt like custard. And then the full impact of his kiss slammed into her. How warm his lips were, how tender his embrace. Dizziness, pleasure, all enveloped her until she could no longer think.
Long-suppressed emotions overwhelmed her. Waves of feeling crashed over her, resonating through her soul like a thousand pinpricks of bliss. She pressed against Spencer, feeling the tightness of his arms around her as though this was the most perfect embrace in the entire world. He smelled of clover, fresh and invigorating.
The rain fell around them.
She felt safe.
She might have stayed there forever had he not drawn back. Had he not given her the most crooked smile imaginable. Satisfaction practically glowed from his skin.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time.”
“Wipe the smirk from your face, my lord. You may have just ruined my reputation.” She worked hard to control the trembles ricocheting through her. They were from a chill. Merely that and nothing else.
He waved a hand, dismissing her concerns as though they were but flotsam. “Nonsense. No one saw a thing. They are all huddled cozy in their homes whilst we stand in the rain, kissing.”
She shivered as anger flushed through her. What could she say? She was standing in a downpour, wishing he would kiss her again, and he acted as if nothing important had just happened. She wanted to slap him for his impertinence.
Mud sucked at her shoes as she spun away. She’d march right back to that inn and leave him here in the rain. As she started forward, he stopped her...again. The press of his fingers prodded her to face him.
“Kindly unhand me.” A regal voice despite the rain wetting her cheeks and dripping from her chin. She lifted said chin, just to make sure he understood she meant exactly what she meant.
His hair clung in dark rivulets against his face. A searing energy coursed through her. Her heart throbbed against her rib cage in hard, quick knocks that belied the irritation engulfing her. Was he going to kiss her again? He certainly looked as though he would, and the worst thing was that she wanted him to.
Chapter Twenty-One
Spencer knew he’d made a big mistake.
As rain soaked his clothes and lightning rent the sky, regret pummeled at him. Lady Amelia appeared uncertain, and he’d never seen her look that way. Eyes wide, she backed up.
“Perhaps it’s better that I see you in the morning.” Thunder followed her words. She grimaced and looked around. “We shall search for Lydia then.”
She flounced away, or maybe ran away, and he massaged his neck. What a horrid thing he’d just done, swept up in a tide of emotion, carried off by a need deeper than he could explain.
One kiss, and he’d pushed her from him. That had caused the distance he saw in her eyes. He was sure of it. And the kiss had told him only one thing: Lady Amelia was the woman he wanted to marry.
Groaning, he trudged after her to the inn. Warmth from a flickering fire greeted him. He gratefully took the cider a maidservant offered him and sat near the fireplace. Lady Amelia had no doubt retired to her room. Ruminating, perhaps, on her horrible client. He stared into the fire, cognizant of the owner’s watchful eye. Tension radiated through his shoulders.
He’d misread Lady Amelia. Yes, she responded to his kiss... He sipped the cider slowly, remembering the way she’d melted into him as though only he mattered to her.
He wanted that, he realized. In a marriage. Passion and trust. His parents had had neither. All his errant pursuits before had been nothing more than a longing to fulfill his loneliness. Finding a deeper relationship with God had only shown him how deeply alone he’d been.
Should he pursue her?
Why not Lady Amelia, when he knew with certainty that his life would not be whole without her in it?
That settled, he drained the last of his cider and made his way up the narrow stairs to his room. Though the inn was small, it appeared clean and cozy. Tomorrow should be interesting. If events went well, if he could salvage what had happened tonight. Then he hoped for a more amenable outcome.
A prayer slipped past his lips as he fell asleep, and the feeling inside him blossomed into a hope he couldn’t ignore.
* * *
The next morning, that blossom felt more like a thorn than a flower. He winced as he followed a very determined Lady Amelia. They’d visited a smithy and a parson with no success in locating Miss Stanley. Yesterday’s storm had passed, and the sun rose across the misty Scottish lowlands in muted hues of gold.
Which only reminded Spencer of Lady Amelia’s hair. Though only paces ahead of him, she strode without looking back at him. In fact, breakfast had been a strange affair. She’d rambled on about politics and the state of the prisons without ever once meeting his eyes.
Lengthening his stride, he caught up to her. Her hair, plaited becomingly, was just as beautiful as in his imagination. Before he could say anything—and he wasn’t sure what he would say, only that something needed to be aired—she hurried forward into the smithy they’d visited yesterday.
Voices hushed as he rode Lady Amelia’s wake. Several faces looked up from the front of the room, which had been decorated with ribbons. There stood a man he recognized as the blacksmith. Black cloth draped his shoulders.
Spencer frowned at the farce.
The other face he recognized belonged to none other than Miss Stanley. Even with her hair down, he recognized the bright blue eyes shining at him.
“Why, Amelia, whatever are you doing here?” The ingenuous question popped from the cousin’s mouth and landed in the room like a tornado-hewn tree hitting the ground. No one made a sound.
Not the people next to Miss Stanley, including the fresh-faced young man who must be her groom, or Spencer. He watched Amelia carefully. She plucked a small white cloth from somewhere on her person—he knew not where these things were kept—and wiped at her fingers carefully.
“I’m sure it is a surprise.” Her tone said the opposite. “However, I felt I must speak to you privately before allowing this to continue.”
Allowing? He barely stifled his snort. Miss Stanley did not look amused. Her arms crossed.
“Whatever you have to say can be said in front of William.”
In response, the young man put his arm around her. Spencer raised a brow at the gesture. He could almost hear Lady Amelia’s indignity.
“Are you sure of that?” she asked tightly.
He couldn’t see her face as she stood in front of him, but the shape of her shoulders indicated anguish.
The blacksmith held up his hand. “Now, before we resort to fisticuffs, let it be known that there’ll be no brawling in this shop. Take ye words out the door or there’ll be no wedding today.”
“We only mean to have a conversation, sir. I have come to point out reason to my cousin and her parents.” Lady Amelia stepped forward.
So those were the extra people—Miss Lydia’s parents. What an interesting situation, and yet Lady Amelia did not see her plans were doomed to fail. If Miss Stanley’s parents were here, then they supporte
d their daughter. Which led him to wonder...why the hasty marriage?
He leaned against a clear spot on the wall and waited, knowing this couldn’t end well. He’d be there for Lady Amelia, though. The thought of her disappointment brought him no satisfaction, only a hollow pit in his stomach.
“We support Lydia,” the older man, her father, stated. “Your presence isn’t needed unless you can support her, too.”
From this angle, Spencer caught the wince that crossed Lady Amelia’s face. “I understand, and if I could but speak to Lydia for a moment...”
Miss Stanley waved a hand, elegance in her movements. “Go ahead, cousin. I know you shall not be able to rest until you state your case.”
“I’m simply concerned. You’ve known this man for less than a month. Marrying him will not accomplish your goals or protect your family. I’m sure you feel great affection for him, but shouldn’t you wait longer to get to know him? At least post the banns and don’t rush into a decision that will forever affect your future.” Lady Amelia twisted the cloth in her hands. It was the only sign of her distress.
“My dear Amelia, you worry overly much.” Miss Stanley moved to stand in front of her cousin. She placed her hands on Lady Amelia’s shoulders. “You have not failed in any way, but William has his orders to leave within the week, and we do not wish to be apart.”
“Letters are often helpful during times of distance.” Obstinacy coated her every word.
“They will not suffice. I feel peace and God’s blessing in this relationship.” Miss Stanley’s smile warmed the room, and suddenly Spencer realized that this young lady was not just a pretty face. She held a genuine love for her suitor and was willing to give up comfort and family to be with him.
Though Lady Amelia spent the next ten minutes trying to change Miss Stanley’s mind, nothing she said caused so much as a flicker of indecision to cross her cousin’s brow. Her parents and the blacksmith waited patiently in the background. Finally, Lady Amelia’s shoulders slumped. She stepped back, and it was all he could do to refrain from pulling her into a hug.
She took this too personally. She remained silent during the ceremony, and though she did not frown, he sensed the tension radiating from her. Afterward the family hugged, and Miss Stanley’s mother was misty-eyed.
Spencer slipped outside to give them privacy.
Lady Amelia joined him shortly thereafter. “We may as well leave.”
“Already?”
She stared out across the street. “I have no need to stay here. Lydia is happy with her family and her groom.”
Unsure how to respond, Spencer walked with her back to the inn. They collected their meager supplies and then walked to the stable to get his carriage and horses. The entire way, he rehearsed what he should say on the long journey home. How sorry he was to have taken advantage of the moment...but how much he enjoyed kissing her.
No, that wouldn’t do.
Absent-mindedly, he paid the stable owners. The driver sat at the ready, and he climbed into the carriage after Lady Amelia. She huddled in a corner. It would be a warm ride home, though that didn’t explain the sweat dribbling down his neck.
Never had he felt so nervous. As the carriage moved out of the little town and back toward England, he struggled for the right words to say. Lady Amelia sat across from him, looking out the window, hands folded neatly in her lap. The picture of primness and propriety.
Why did his heart beat faster every time he saw her? It could be only one thing, the thing he’d avoided most of his life.
Yet he had to marry...and he could not imagine a life without this plucky, beautiful lady.
“I don’t understand.”
Lady Amelia’s somber words interrupted his thoughts. He met her gaze, heart sinking at the confusion written plainly across her face. While he pondered marriage plans, she was thinking about something else. He searched for words, but before he could come up with something sensitive and sweet, her foot began a tap against the floor.
“She isn’t being rational, and her parents support her decision. A choice made on something less than logic. I just don’t understand it.”
“Why do you read novels?”
“What?”
“Those stories of ladies in distress and highwaymen who rescue them. It’s for the redemption, right? You enjoy a tale of justice and good ultimately winning.”
She made a face. “I suppose that is one way to put it, though I do enjoy the intrigue, as well.”
“Perhaps your cousin sees the same in this husband of hers.” Spencer rubbed at his neck. How could he put this? “Perhaps she longs for the companionship of one she likes being with, one with whom she can share many adventures and affection. He seems a simple and happy fellow.”
“And she is so bright.” A heavy sigh erupted. “Any young man could satisfy those feelings, and one with a future to boot. I feel as though I’ve failed, Ashwhite. Dismally.”
In the confines of the carriage, he wanted to put his arms around her and kiss away the sadness in her eyes. But he’d made a mess of things earlier, and that might send her running for good. Hands clasped, he leaned forward.
“You did not fail. You heard what Miss Stanley said. She feels God’s peace. She loves that man, and who are we to get between them? Instead, honor her wishes. Relinquish the control you long for and let her go.” He paused, blood pumping wildly through him. “I propose a different kind of adventure. I am still in need of a wife, with only a month and a half left until I lose my family’s estate.”
She reached out and patted his shoulder. “Two parties are planned for you. They should suffice.” She tilted her head. “What adventure are you speaking of?”
This was the moment. The thrill of the unknown raced through him, challenging him. And yet in his heart he knew this was right. No perfect moment, but the right moment. Not every problem was solved. There was still Lord Dudley to deal with after all. But for now, in this second, all his worries faded beneath an inescapable knowledge: he loved this lady.
“Lady Amelia.” He took her hand from his shoulder and cupped it in his palms. “Will you do the honor of marrying me?”
* * *
Amelia’s heartbeat was a caged bird in her throat. A hot sweat flushed beneath her clothes, and her breath grew thin. Carefully she removed her hand from Lord Ashwhite’s grip and looked away from the intensity of his gaze.
Marriage? Surely he jested. He must be teasing. Why ever would he want to marry her? To try to change her? To mold her into something she never longed to be?
Wetting her lips, she drew up the courage she suddenly lacked to meet his stare. “This is sudden, my lord. Your wish to save your estate is admirable, but I believe your perception has been skewed.”
Something uncertain flickered across his brow. She longed to smooth the worry away, but that would only encourage this nonsense. Her stomach hurt.
“Many things have been crooked in my life, but my head is finally straight.” He regarded her soberly from his seat. “’Tis true I’d keep Ashwhite, and you’d have financial independence.”
“You propose a marriage of convenience,” she said carefully.
“No, I want a family.”
The thought of kissing Ashwhite again sent flutters to her belly, followed by the pang of something worse. Fear. A huge and looming presence that made her head spin. She blinked, willing the dizziness to pass.
“Lady Amelia, in the course of the past weeks, I have seen a young woman who is kind and generous. You are everything I’d want in a wife, and I find myself...” He paused, his lips unmoving. There was a question in his eyes, a precipice he desired to fling himself from.
Though a novice in the ways of romance, Amelia knew what he wanted to say. The emotion shone out of him. She tried for a deep breath, anything to take this throat-clutching fear from her, but her rib cage refused to expand. Toes curling, she whispered, “Don’t say it.”
“It needs to be said.” Lord Ashwhite shifted
as though he would come sit beside her.
Every nerve in her body was on edge. Her emotions ricocheted. Never had she felt so uncertain, so deliriously uncertain.
He didn’t move, though, perhaps sensing her turmoil. “Lady Amelia, I am in love with you.”
She shut her eyes, wanting to block him out. Needing to ignore the confidence in his eyes. If only he pleaded like a lost puppy, or demanded. She could resist those forms of manipulation. But his statement asked for nothing in return. It was a declaration that made her want to run away.
This reminded her of another time, another place.
Opening her eyes, she gave him a tight smile. “Those are words I’ve heard before.”
He could not look more taken aback. “You have?”
“Yes, I was engaged once. It wasn’t made public and Ev ran him off when—” She couldn’t continue. The hurt was no longer a jagged, open wound, but the scar was tender. What would Lord Ashwhite think of her?
“When what?” His tone was soft.
She swallowed and stiffened her shoulders. “When I found him kissing a maid.” She waved a hand, attempting to brush off any sympathy. “Oh, I know that this is common in the haut ton. I’m aware that wives are to look in a different direction or perhaps even find their own amour, but I could not put up with such a thing. I had thought he loved—” Again her voice broke, and this time she could not keep her eyes from stinging. Blinking, she stared at her fingers, which unmindfully clenched and unclenched. Clenched and unclenched.
Lord Ashwhite must look at her with distaste, or perhaps pity. She did not want either. She rushed on, “He was a rake in his heart, though every other part of him was respectable. When I stumbled upon them, he dismissed her and then had the audacity to tell me he loved me and she meant nothing to him.” She shrugged, though it cost effort. Every muscle in her body ached from reigning in her emotions. “He continued to insist on his love, day after day, but it became clear by his actions that his version of love was not healthy for me.”
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