by Anne Herries
They had been playing for half an hour or so when he caught the smell of the perfume he always associated with Amelia and turned to see her watching them. The wistful expression he surprised in her eyes set him wondering. Was she wishing that they might be alone? Did she burn to be in his arms? He realised that despite their long friendship he hardly knew her. Gerard well remembered the passionate girl who would have given herself to him one never-forgotten night—but who was she now? Beautiful, serene, sophisticated, she was surrounded by friends, loved by those who knew her best, envied by many—but who was the woman behind the mask? How did she really feel about their marriage? He wished he knew.
‘I came to say goodnight,’ she said. ‘I must see if Emily is feeling better. I shall speak to you in the morning, Gerard—shall we say at nine?’
‘If that is not too early for you.’ He inclined his head, then went to her, taking her hand and turning it to drop a kiss into the palm. ‘Sleep well, my dearest. I hope you find Miss Barton much recovered.’
‘Thank you.’ Amelia smiled as she bid both men goodnight and then walked from the room.
‘You know that I shall be happy to stand up with you at your wedding,’ Harry said and lined up a coloured ball, striking it with the white so that it rolled into the pocket. ‘Have you agreed the day yet?’
‘We are thinking of a month after the ball at Coleridge,’ Gerard said. ‘I hope that I am doing the right thing…if I thought I was putting Amelia’s life in danger by marrying her…’
‘If you have an enemy, we shall find him out,’ Harry said and potted another ball. ‘I have told my men to be on the lookout for strangers, but I doubt that whoever it was the other night will try anything more just yet. I have been wondering if that shot was just another warning.’
‘We cannot even be certain that the target is Amelia…’ Gerard frowned, missing his ball. His heart was not in the game. All he could think about was Amelia. He wanted her so badly. He would be a fool to let whoever was threatening her have his way.
Amelia sighed as she went into the private sitting room she shared with Emily. She wished that she might have had more time alone with Gerard that evening, but it was not possible. There were so many guests staying and she was acquainted with all of them; mere politeness decreed that she must spend a little time with as many as she could.
She saw that her blue cloak with the fur lining was lying on one of the chairs. She had told Emily that she might wear it that morning, because the weather had turned so cold and she had her new black one, which was even more sumptuously lined. Emily must have left it lying there. That was unusual, for she was by habit a tidy girl. Amelia’s maid knew that she had loaned the cloak to her companion and had left it where it was instead of putting it away as she normally would.
Amelia went to her companion’s door and knocked softly. ‘Are you awake, dearest? Is your headache still bad? Would you like to talk to me about anything?’
There was no reply. Amelia did not persist; she did not wish to wake Emily if she was sleeping. She knew that it was Emily’s heart that ached rather than her head, and she felt annoyed with Toby Sinclair. Really, she had thought better of him! Surely he could have accepted that Emily had had a child? It was shocking, but not the crime some thought it, in Amelia’s opinion, especially since Emily had been forced. Toby might at least have asked her about the circumstances. Obviously, he had wanted to get home quickly after the news that his father’s health had taken a turn for the worse, but he could have left a note for Emily. To leave her without a word—to run away like a disappointed schoolboy—was not what Amelia would have expected from him.
If he really could not face the fact that Emily had given birth to a child, even though she was forced and not willing, he could have found a way of telling her. To simply abandon her like this was so hurtful. It was no wonder that Emily had taken to her bed this evening. She was suffering from a broken heart.
Amelia went to her own bedchamber. She allowed her maid to undo the hooks at the back of her gown and then dismissed her. She sat down at her dressing table, picked up her brush, but then just stared at her mirror.
She was anxious about Emily. The girl was assured of a position with her for as long as she needed it, but there was very little she could do to help with the pain of a disappointment in love. Amelia had once suffered much as her companion was suffering now. She had not even known why Gerard had gone away without speaking to her or telling her he was leaving. For years she had alternated between distress and disappointment at his desertion, but then she had finally understood that her brother was to blame. Michael had acted in a high-handed, ruthless manner, not caring who he hurt!
He had not been a good brother to her. Indeed, there were times when she had come close to hating him. His last letter had been a hateful tirade about her selfishness towards her family that had left her in tears—but would he truly wish her dead so that he could get his hands on her fortune?
Amelia shuddered at the thought. They had quarrelled so many times, but although she had sensed violence in him he had never actually harmed her—except by sending Gerard away.
Her thoughts turned to the man she had never ceased to love. She had thought there was something of the man she had known when she was young in him that evening…a simmering passion that had made her catch her breath.
She longed for him to want her, to love her—need her, as she loved and desired him. Was she a fool to believe that their marriage could work? If all he truly wanted was a complaisant wife who would care for his child, he might feel cheated when he realised that she was in love with him.
It must not matter! She knew that a marriage that was not equal in love might lead to hurt in the years to come, but perhaps if she were careful to hide her feelings he need never know. He wanted a companion rather than a wife so that was what she would be. Besides, it would break her to leave him now. If she waited, gave him time to know her, he might begin to feel the passion he had once had for her.
Smiling a trifle ruefully, Amelia went to bed. She might be foolish, but she thought that she had seen passion in Gerard’s eyes that evening…
Amelia slept a little later than usual. She was woken by her maid pulling back the curtains and yawned, sitting up and blinking at the bright light.
Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was half past eight. ‘Has it been snowing again, Martha?’
‘Yes, Miss Royston. It has stopped now, but I believe there was a heavy fall last night.’
‘What have you brought me this morning?’
‘I thought you might like a light repast in bed instead of going down to the breakfast room. Since you slept in, Miss Royston—’
‘How thoughtful you are,’ Amelia said. ‘I shall need some warm water at once for I have an appointment at nine this morning.’
‘I should have woken you sooner, miss—but you were so peaceful.’
‘I have half an hour; it is plenty of time if I hurry.’
‘I will fetch the water now, miss.’
‘Oh…’ Amelia said as the girl turned away. ‘Have you seen Miss Barton this morning?’
‘No, miss. I went into her room to ask if she wished for breakfast in bed, but she was not there. Her bed had been made, but Miss Barton often makes her bed.’
‘Yes, she does, because she is a thoughtful girl,’ Amelia said. She broke a piece of the soft roll, buttered it and ate a piece as she poured a cup of the dark, slightly bitter chocolate she liked to drink when she indulged in breakfast in bed. It was not often she did so and wished she might linger longer this morning, but she did not want to be late for her meeting with Gerard.
By the time Martha returned with her hot water, Amelia had finished her roll and her cup of chocolate. She washed hastily and dressed in a simple morning gown that she could fasten herself. For once she left her hair hanging loose on her shoulders, merely brushing it back from her face and securing it with a comb at either side. Since she scarcely glanced at
herself, she had no idea that she looked much younger and more like the girl she had been when she first met Gerard.
The beautiful mahogany longcase clock in the hall had just finished striking when Amelia went downstairs. She found that Gerard was waiting for her. He looked handsome, elegant in his coat with three layers of capes across the shoulders, his topboots so glossy that you might see your reflection in them. He was frowning, but as she called to him he turned and smiled. Amelia’s heart did a somersault, leaving her breathless for one moment. She truly thought that he had the most compelling eyes of any gentleman of her acquaintance and they seemed very intent as he looked at her.
‘Forgive me if I have kept you. I slept later than usual and did not think to ask my maid to wake me. I am normally up much earlier.’
‘We have all been keeping late hours at Pendleton. I should have suggested ten rather than nine, but I thought we should be sure of being alone. I have the carriage waiting…’
‘We have not been much alone,’ Amelia said as they went outside together. ‘I have been thinking about what happened the other night outside the church, Gerard.’
‘I have thought of it constantly.’ His eyes dwelled on her face for some moments. ‘We shall talk in the carriage. I would not care to be overheard.’
‘Surely here there is no one that would wish us harm?’
‘Our friends would not,’ Gerard agreed, taking her arm and leading her out to the carriage. He helped her inside and she found that a warm brick had been brought so that she might place her feet on it, and a thick rug provided for her knees. ‘I hope you will be comfortable, Amelia. It is a bitterly cold day.’
‘I dare say your coachman will feel it, but we shall not be out long.’
‘Coachman has his comforts, a warm coat and a blanket, I am sure,’ Gerard told her. ‘You say that we are safe here with friends and to a certain degree I concur, but servants talk—and sometimes they pass on information for money without realising what harm they may do.’
‘Yes, I am sure that is so,’ Amelia said. ‘I believe someone may have mentioned the fact that we had been talking together—for no one but our close friends know that weare engaged.’ She frowned. ‘Of course, Lisa knows. When did you tell her you were thinking of marrying me—before or after you dismissed Nanny?’
‘I believe it was before…’ He stared at her. ‘You think Nanny may have heard something and passed on the information?’
‘Lisa told me yesterday that Nanny did not leave Pendleton immediately. She saw her talking to a man in the gardens—a man that she had seen Nanny speak to before.’
‘Why did you not tell me that yesterday?’
‘I did not think it important at first. I imagined Miss Horton might have a follower, but when you said just now that servants talk, I realised that she could have been selling information—perhaps because she had been dismissed.’
‘Yes, you are right. I should have forced her to leave the house instantly.’
‘It would not have changed anything. If she already had the information…’
Gerard swore angrily and then apologised. ‘Forgive me. I should not use such language in your presence, Amelia. I have been careless. I did not imagine that my servants would gossip to strangers.’
‘It makes little difference. Our enemy would have heard as soon as our engagement was announced.’
Gerard looked concerned. ‘I have wondered if I was wrong to ask you. If I have put your life at risk…’
‘If my marriage to you renders me liable to be murdered, then it is best that I am aware of it. This threat will not go away if we deny it, Gerard. We must discover who wishes me ill. There is some mystery here and it needs to be solved.’
‘You do not accept that it is your brother?’
‘I am loathe to do so. I know that Michael resents the fact that Great-Aunt Agatha did not leave him anything. He has tried to bully me into giving him at least half of my fortune. We have quarrelled because I refuse to do as he wishes. Had my aunt wished him to share in her fortune, she would have left him money. I might have done something for him before this had he behaved in a civilised manner. Perhaps—if you believe it is Michael…’ She shook her head. ‘No! I shall not be blackmailed into giving him my aunt’s money. She would not have wished me to do so.’
‘I do not think he would be content with a part of it. If he is willing to murder you, then he wants it all.’
‘Well, he shall not have it.’ Amelia lifted her head proudly. ‘I have my own plans for part of the money—though some must be put in trust for our children.’
‘You are thinking of your charity?’
‘That and other things. I have helped two young ladies find happiness. I know of at least two more deserving cases…’ She halted as Gerard raised his brows. ‘You do not approve?’
‘I am happy with whatever you choose to do, Amelia. I told you that I did not wish to control your fortune and I meant it.’
‘It will be our money. I should not dream of giving large sums away without first consulting you.’
‘I am not your brother, Amelia. Your fortune is not my first concern.’
‘Have I made you angry, Gerard? I beg your pardon. I did not mean to.’ She looked at him uncertainly.
‘I am not angry, but I would not have you think I asked you to marry me for your fortune.’
‘I did not.’ She hesitated, then, wishing to change the subject, ‘Shall we travel to Coleridge together?’
‘Yes, certainly.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I have made arrangements for you to be protected—Lisa too. If you feel that my theory is wrong I must think carefully. Sir Michael seemed the most obvious since he would inherit.’
‘Have you considered that this person may have something other than money on his mind—or her mind? I suppose it could be a woman…’
‘A scorned mistress?’ Gerard looked amused. ‘I have none to my credit, Amelia. When I first returned from the wars there was a lady in France, but we parted as friends when I returned to England the first time. There has been no one since.’
‘Oh…’ Amelia digested his statement in silence. Most gentlemen had mistresses before they married. She found no cause for distress in an old affair. ‘Then we are at least certain it is a man. My sister-in-law has no love for me, but she would think murder most vulgar.’
‘Vulgar?’ Laughter gleamed in his eyes.
‘You do not know Louisa. She is very strict—rude when she chooses, but never vulgar.’
Gerard laughed. ‘She sounds formidable?’
‘She would consider murder beneath her—and she would not approve of her husband being involved with anything of the kind. Indeed, if she suspected something untoward she would have a deal to say on the subject.’
‘Then perhaps I should look elsewhere for a motive.’
‘I cannot think of anyone I have offended other than my brother.’ Amelia sighed and looked distressed. ‘Perhaps you are right—there is no other explanation.’
‘Unless I have an enemy…’
‘Gerard?’ Amelia’s eyes widened. ‘Have you thought of someone?’
‘Unfortunately, no. I dare say I have enemies, though none I would have thought…there is Northaven, of course. He may hate me enough to threaten, but to kill you…’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot think it, Amelia. He might wound me in a duel if he could or knock me down, but truth to tell I do not see him as a murderer.’
‘I do not see my brother in that light. A bully—yes.’
‘It is difficult. All we can do is wait until he shows himself—whoever he is. I have agents who may discover something, but…it might be best to delay the announcement of our engagement.’
‘You would give in to him? Surely that way he wins? And if my fortune is his object…’ Amelia waved her hand in distress. ‘As you say, it is difficult. If you wish to withdraw—’
‘Damn it, no! You cannot think it, Amelia?’
‘No…forgive me. I hard
ly know what I am thinking.’
‘All I want is to make you happy.’
‘Then we shall not allow this person to dictate to us. I dare say there is some risk if we go ahead and announce the engagement but there is risk in any case. At the moment our enemy is merely a shadow. Perhaps when he sees he cannot bully us he will step out into the light.’
‘You are both wise and brave,’ Gerard murmured, taking her gloved hand to kiss it. ‘Now we shall talk of happier things? How many guests shall we invite to our wedding—and do you think we should hold an engagement ball?’
‘Oh, I think we shall give a ball on the eve of the wedding. I believe that will be sufficient. Shall we all go down to Ravenshead after the Coleridge ball? I think I should like to see your home, Gerard—and we must discuss what I ought to do with Aunt Agatha’s estate. I told you that I thought we should sell some of the property, but she loved that house and I am very fond of the garden…’
Amelia was feeling more settled in her mind when they returned to the house an hour or so after they left it. They had discussed most aspects of the wedding and settled that they would keep Amelia’s home and also the house in Bath and Gerard’s London house, which was larger than her own. Most of the other property would be sold or let to tenants, and the money invested in some form of trust for their children. However, the identity of the person who was trying to prevent their marriage remained a mystery. She knew that Gerard still felt her brother the most likely culprit, though he intended to set his agents the task of discovering if either of them was being watched. There was nothing more they could do for the moment except be vigilant.
Amelia parted from Gerard and went upstairs to her own apartments to change into a more suitable gown. She noticed that the blue velvet cloak she had loaned Emily was not lying on a chair in the sitting room. She could not recall if it had been there when she left earlier that morning, because she had been in too much hurry. Either Emily had taken it and gone out or she had tidied it away. Perhaps she was in her room now.