Jilted by a Rogue

by Cheryl Holt

  Victoria murmured a comment to him, and he gazed at her so intently that Amelia was stunned. It was exactly how she’d once seen her prior beau, Peyton Prescott, stare at his dear, Jo Bates.

  During that terrible period, Amelia had told Evan she’d like him to eventually stumble on a girl he adored just as much so he’d stare at her the same way. Had Evan fallen in love with Victoria? Was it possible?

  They’d only been acquainted for a few weeks, and Amelia was afraid his injuries—and Victoria’s intervention in his recovery—were skewing his view of the world. He’d survived a catastrophe, and he’d glommed onto Victoria as if she were a log in the ocean that would keep him afloat.

  Could sincere affection be generated under such difficult circumstances? Amelia had no idea.

  She didn’t want the doting pair to glance up and find her gaping, so she tiptoed away. Their powerful bond seemed too intimate for an outsider to witness, but she was reeling. Should she discuss their amour with Evan? Should she address her reservations with Victoria? Or should she mind her own business?

  Evan was thirty-one and Victoria was twenty-five. They were sensible adults. If they fell in love, why complain?

  She went to the front parlor. Laura was there, leaned against the window and studying the street.

  “What are you looking at?” Amelia asked.

  After a lengthy delay, she finally admitted, “I’m watching for Captain Hastings.”

  Victoria had mentioned that Laura was hoping he’d show up, but this was the first time Amelia had heard her acknowledge it.

  “You know he’s in Gibraltar, right?” Amelia said. “And he’s heading to India?”

  “I miss him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I miss him.”

  It was a gross understatement. Some days, she could barely breathe from grieving over their separation. She never revealed her distress though.

  “He’ll miss us too,” Laura claimed, “now that we left, so he might follow us.”

  “If he doesn’t, you have to promise you won’t be too disappointed.”

  “I won’t be disappointed. I’m not a baby. I realize dreams never come true, but that can’t stop me from wanting it.”

  Talk of James always left Amelia feeling queasy. It seemed as if her anatomy reacted violently at the sound of his name. The seasickness she’d developed on the voyage had never really abated, and the symptoms had hung on for so long that she was starting to suppose she might be seriously ill.

  “Would you excuse me?” she mumbled as her nausea increased.

  “Are you sick again?”

  Amelia could only nod a reply. She clasped a hand over her mouth and raced up the stairs to her bedchamber where she dropped to her knees, grabbed the chamber pot, and vomited over and over.

  As the episode waned, she crawled onto her bed and stretched out, an arm flung over her eyes as she wondered how to treat the annoying malaise so it would fade.

  The door opened, and Victoria said, “Amelia, are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m just nauseous.”

  “Laura thought I should check on you.”

  “I’m either dying of some strange malady or I caught a tropical bug I can’t vanquish.”

  Brits who traveled abroad brought home all sorts of odd conditions. Is that what had afflicted her?

  Victoria hovered, then entered the room and pulled up a chair. She eased down and glared in a fashion that was extremely unnerving.

  “What is it?” Amelia asked.

  “I have to discuss a difficult topic, but you have to swear you won’t get upset.”

  Amelia scowled. “I never get upset with you.”

  “Your mother isn’t here to advise you, and I’ve been dithering over whether I shouldn’t step into her shoes.”

  “What shoes? What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t think you’re sick,” Victoria bluntly stated.

  “What is wrong with me then?”

  “I think you’re having a baby.”

  The comment sucked all the air out of the sky. “Don’t be ridiculous. How would that have occurred?”

  Victoria frowned at Amelia as if she were an idiot, and Amelia blanched with dismay and sat up with a lurch.

  “I can’t be having a baby! It’s not possible.”

  “You have all the signs, Amelia. We could call in a midwife to confirm it, but I doubt it’s necessary.”

  “Victoria! I’m not married! I have no husband!”

  “I’m certain you are not the first woman in history to point that out.”

  “It would indicate I’m on the path to being an unwed mother.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “I can’t have any of that happen! Can you imagine the disgrace that will rain down on me? And on my brother! How could I have done this to him?”

  “It’s a little late to worry about that,” Victoria pragmatically said. “The horse is out of the barn, and we can’t put it back in. We have to figure out how to stagger forward.”

  “James told me he couldn’t sire any children.”

  “I once heard him mention the very same.”

  “It would mean…mean…he lied to me.”

  “He wasn’t lying exactly. He truly believes it.”

  “He’s on his way to India! We can’t even get a message to him.”

  “I’m sure not.”

  “Even if I could contact him, what good would it do?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never met a man who was so rabidly determined to remain a bachelor.”

  “What will become of me?” Amelia was so overcome she was practically wailing.

  Victoria patted her hand. “We should speak to your brother. He needs to be apprised, and we should seek his opinion as to how he’d like you to deal with the situation.”

  “Absolutely not! I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than bother him about this.”

  “He’s stronger than you think,” Victoria insisted.

  “I can’t bear the notion of confessing how I shamed myself. My trip to Gibraltar was the only time I was ever on my own with no supervision, and look how I behaved! I’ll sound like a trollop!”

  “You shouldn’t flog yourself over any moral lapses. I’m acquainted with James, remember? Females collapse at his feet. It’s all that Hastings’s blood flowing in his veins. The men in that family have always been irresistible rogues, and you’re not made of stone.”

  “That’s as may be,” Amelia said, “but I can’t tell Evan. His sole response will be to find James and kill him.”

  Victoria snorted with amusement. “Your brother is not healthy enough to murder anybody, especially not someone as hale and fit as James Hastings.”

  “Your assertion doesn’t alleviate my concerns. Despite Evan’s reduced condition, he’ll feel compelled to at least try to commit murder.”

  “If we could contact James somehow, Evan could demand he wed you. It’s the usual ending. Wouldn’t you like to have him as your husband?”

  Amelia scoffed with disgust. “James Hastings would never marry me. My brother couldn’t sufficiently threaten him into it.”

  “If he was your husband, and you had a boy, he’d eventually inherit an earldom.”

  Amelia’s jaw dropped with astonishment. “And I would be a countess. Oh, my Lord! No, no, no! We can’t let any of it transpire.”

  “I don’t see that you have many other viable options.”

  Amelia flopped down onto the pillow. “I’ll simply pretend it’s not occurring. As my stomach swells, I’ll claim I’ve become a glutton and gained a ton of weight.”

  “That might work—except for one important fact.”

  “What is that?”

  “After nine months, when your weight suddenly vanishes, you’ll have a baby in the house. How will you explain it?”

  The prospect was thrilling and terrifying, and Amelia bristled. “I will kill Jam
es Hastings. I will buy a pistol and keep it close. If I ever cross paths with him again, Evan won’t have to murder him. I will murder him myself!”

  * * * *

  Evan smiled at his sister and said, “I have to tell you something.”

  To his surprise, she voiced the same comment at the very same moment, and they laughed.

  Supper was over, and Victoria was upstairs, putting Laura to bed. He and Amelia were in the parlor, seated side by side on the sofa. It was a chilly autumn night, and there was a cozy fire burning in the grate.

  They’d been staring into the flames, lost in thought.

  Evan couldn’t guess what ruminations were vexing his sister, but his own were very pleasant for a change.

  “Would you like to go first?” he asked. “Or should I?”

  “You first,” she said. “I’m not in any hurry to discuss my topic.”

  “Is it about me being so horrid to all of you?”

  She was stunned. “Gad, no! You haven’t been horrid. You’ve been sick and injured. I haven’t been upset with you for a single second.”

  “Still though, I want to apologize. I’m a damaged wreck, and I took it out on you.”

  “I survived. A few angry words could never dim my affection for you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you dare be sorry!” she vehemently stated. “I’m just glad I could help you.”

  “So am I.”

  “What is it you have to tell me?” she inquired.

  “I hope you’ll be happy about it,” he said. “I hope you’ll give me your blessing.”

  “You have my blessing—no matter what you desire.”

  “All right, here goes.” He sighed, feeling as if he was running toward a very high cliff and about to jump over. “I’ve decided to ask Victoria to marry me.”

  She paused for an eternity, and he couldn’t read her expression. Ultimately, she said, “You’ve made up your mind awfully fast.”

  “I’m certain about it, so why delay?”

  “I’ve often heard—when a person endures a traumatic event—there should be no major alternations in how he carries on. He should take his time and catch his breath.”

  “There’s no reason to wait.”

  Tears welled into her eyes. “Do you love her?”

  He shrugged. “If I don’t currently, I will as the years roll along.”

  “She doesn’t have a dowry.”

  “I don’t need a dowry. Father left us in sound financial shape. I just need her. I don’t believe I could live without her.”

  “My goodness. That’s quite a declaration.”

  His flushed with chagrin. “I’m not adept at waxing poetic, so I won’t expound on my feelings about her.”

  “You don’t have to. I watched you with her out in the garden, and you were gazing at her the same way Peyton used to gaze at Jo. When I saw him, I realized it was over for me.”

  He peered down at the floor, loathing how he could still seem so weak. “Victoria saved me, Amelia. I really think so.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you saved yourself. Maybe you’re stronger than you know and she merely pushed you in the right direction.”

  He studied her and frowned. “Are you against the idea then? Is that what you’re telling me? Please don’t make me choose between you.”

  “You silly man. I would never make you choose. I adore Victoria too. I’m delighted for both of you.”

  The tears that had filled her eyes splashed down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. He never could bear to see her cry, and his heart constricted.

  “You don’t look very happy,” he said. “If you don’t want me to proceed, I’ll have to reconsider. It will crush me, but I will.”

  “These are happy tears, you oaf.” She leaned over and hugged him as tightly as she could, which calmed his nerves. She pulled away and inquired, “Have you discussed it with her?”

  “No. I had to talk to you first.”

  “Once she becomes your bride, it won’t be just the two of us anymore. It will change everything.”

  “No, it won’t. There will simply be three of us now. Four counting Laura. We all get on fine, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we do.” She shuddered, as if shaking off a heavy burden. “When will you propose to her?”

  “I’ll ask her after you go up to bed.”

  “Well, then, I’ll head up plenty early. What if she refuses you? Have you thought about that?”

  “She won’t refuse me,” he cockily insisted.

  Although he and Victoria were newly acquainted, they’d learned very much about each other. Victoria was aware of his night terrors and insomnia, how he would always have physical problems, how they would worsen as he aged. He needed a tough wife who was firm, patient, and kind, and she possessed those qualities in spades.

  As to Victoria, she’d confessed the grueling years of her marriage, how cruel her elderly spouse had been, how he’d tormented and abused her. She’d told Evan about the General’s children with his first wife, how he’d left his assets to them, and what he hadn’t bequeathed, they’d swooped in and seized after the funeral.

  She also confided how avidly she’d been husband hunting in Gibraltar, so she didn’t have to stagger to London to live with her malicious brother. Most astounding of all, she’d quietly admitted an enormous secret he would never disclose.

  She’d been wed for a decade and was a widow, but she was still a virgin! The General had never been able to consummate their union. Evan was as vain as the next man, and he found the information to be very interesting—and very exciting.

  They’d shared their past tribulations, their great humiliations and petty challenges, their wildest dreams and aspirations. While he barely knew her, he felt that he knew every vital detail.

  “But enough about me,” he said. “It’s your turn. What are you dying to tell me?”

  * * * *

  Amelia gaped at her brother. She was overcome by emotion and in a wretched state, while he was beaming and thrilled over the prospect of his marrying. In light of his merry mood, it would be selfish to mention her predicament.

  “We needn’t address it tonight,” she said. “Let’s let tonight be about you and Victoria.”

  “No, no, what is it? I’m eager to hear.”

  “I really don’t think you are.”

  “Is it awful? If so, please allow me to deal with it so you don’t have to. I’ve recently been such a burden to you, and I’m so much better. I can carry a bit of your load.”

  She smiled a weary smile. When a man proposed, it was a grand occasion, a happy occasion, meant for celebration. Amelia wouldn’t spoil it.

  “It’s nothing, Evan. Seriously. It can wait until tomorrow.”

  Just then, Victoria entered the room, and she studied their concerned expressions, which gave her exactly the wrong idea.

  “You told him?” she asked.

  Amelia frantically shook her head, as Evan said, “No, she hasn’t breathed a word.”

  Victoria paled. “Obviously, I have a big mouth, and I should keep it shut. I’ll just check on Laura again.”

  She scooted out, leaving Amelia alone with her brother.

  “You can’t remain silent after that,” he said. “Spit it out.”

  “You have to promise you won’t be angry.”

  “Have I ever been angry with you?”

  “You’re not yourself these days. Your temper flares when it shouldn’t.”

  “I will tamp it down. I swear. Now what is it?”

  They were still on the sofa, and she stood and eased into the chair across so she could look him in the eye as she confessed her sins.

  “When I was in Gibraltar,” she haltingly started, “there was a man I liked very much.”

  “Was it anyone I know?”

  “James Hastings? I don’t think the two of you were acquainted.”

  Evan scowl
ed. “Wasn’t he the army’s horse trainer?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “I didn’t ever meet him, but there were plenty of stories. He had a reputation with the ladies, so I hope this isn’t going in a direction that will make me cringe.” It was the worst comment he could have uttered, and she was too ashamed to continue. After a lengthy pause, he said, “And…?”

  She stared at the floor, too mortified to hold his gaze. “I might be…ah…having a baby. In about five months?”

  Evan was very quiet, mulling her declaration, and when she finally peeked up at him, he appeared so shocked that she winced.

  “The horse trainer, Amelia?” he eventually asked.

  “It sounds horrid, I know.”

  “He’s a renowned libertine.”

  “You don’t have to scold me for being so stupid. I figured it out on my own.”

  He went to the sideboard to pour himself a whiskey. He had some difficulty pulling the cork from the decanter, and she yearned to assist him, but it irked him to be aided when he was performing a simple task.

  He drank down the liquor in three quick swallows, then set down the glass.

  “Where is he now?” he asked.

  “He was in Gibraltar when I left, but he’d requested a transfer to India. He expected it to be approved very soon, so he’s probably on a ship in the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “When you departed, were you aware of your condition? Was he apprised?”

  “No, I had no idea, so he had no idea. Victoria just informed me of what was wrong. I’ve been sick for weeks, and I thought I’d caught a tropical bug.”

  “He should marry you immediately. I can force him to. Would you like that? Even if you wouldn’t, you don’t have much of a choice.”

  “He won’t be back in England for years—if ever. If he deigned to return, it would be a little late to rectify the damage.”

  “If he’s still in Gibraltar, I could travel there and kill him for you.”

  “I told Victoria that would be your reaction, but no, you’re not killing him. Besides, at the moment, you’re too run down.”

  “Yes, but I could try to kill him.”

  She snorted with disgust. “I told her you’d say that too.”

  An oppressive silence descended, and he remained over by the sideboard, leaned against it as he scrutinized her intensely. She couldn’t bear his potent assessment. Would he detest her now? His behavior could be so erratic. Might he kick her out?