…
“Who was that unpleasant-looking man?”
Brandon looked up from the drawing room window to find his grandmother in the doorway. She was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling the throb of a beginning headache. “Another one of father’s business acquaintances who crawled out of the woodwork.”
She closed the door behind her and entered the room. “From the look on your face, I assume he delivered bad news.”
A heaviness settled in the center of Brandon’s chest. She needed to learn the truth. “Father borrowed money from a moneylender. I have two weeks to come up with twenty thousand pounds or he’ll own Rosehill’s unentailed property and the textile mill.”
“Good God!”
His headache began to build in intensity. If the mill had been consistently productive over the course of the year he would have been able to pay off the loan. But the power looms never seemed to cooperate.
“You have no choice now. You had best pursue Lady Minerva like she is the most desirable courtesan to ever cross your path,” she said.
Amelia. He should have gone to Huntingdon and asked for her hand. They’d be engaged and this wouldn’t even be an option. He may lose the mill and the land, but he’d have her to comfort him—to soothe his soul and hold him at night. He’d have the benefit of her keen mind and sharp intelligence to help him rebuild what he’d lost.
The dowager straightened to her full height of five feet. “Thank heavens the solution to all our problems is under this roof. You no longer have a choice in the matter. Tomorrow night’s ball is the perfect opportunity to announce your engagement.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The ladies had gathered in Caroline’s bedchamber to talk about the final details of the anticipated ball. Excitement hummed in the air as they discussed their gowns, shoes, jewelry, and accessories in detail.
Caroline sat beside Amelia on her four-poster. “I know you had your own ball dress in mind, but I want to show you something,” Caroline said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
“What is it?” Amelia looked at her curiously.
Caroline went to her wardrobe and pulled out a stunning gown of sapphire silk. “The deep blue will look exquisite on you.”
Amelia gasped. She stood and touched the fine fabric. The shimmering silk felt like a waterfall between her fingers. “It’s your dress. I couldn’t possible wear it.”
“Yes, you can,” Caroline insisted. “We are close to the same size, and I believe it will fit you well. My maid is talented with a needle and can make minor alterations. I had designed several new gowns for the house party, but I can’t wear all the remaining dresses on the last night. I want you to wear it. What better way to show everyone a sample of my designs?”
Amelia felt tears spring to her eyes at Caroline’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
Amelia imagined Brandon’s reaction as he spotted her in the exquisite gown at the ball. After their encounter at the picnic, he’d departed Rosehill for two days. Amelia had wondered if his departure had to do with his strange visitor the day of the picnic. The dowager had explained his absence to all the guests that the earl had unexpected business, but that he’d be back in time for the ball. Huntingdon had temporarily taken Brandon’s place, and he’d occupied the gentlemen guests with numerous sporting outings in the day and gambling and billiards in the evening.
Amelia had continued working on Brandon’s portrait in secret, and it was nearly complete. Her clandestine work, along with her stay at Rosehill, would soon be over.
Minerva’s hands fluttered, and her large bosom heaved. “Mother says I should wear my gown of silver tissue. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
“We haven’t had a ball at Rosehill in a long time. Grandfather was never fond of them,” Helen said.
Minerva giggled. “That’s not the special occasion I’m speaking of.”
All eyes turned to Minerva. “Then what?” Sara asked.
“Lord Vale is going to propose to me!” Minerva squealed.
What? Stunned, Amelia could only sit silently.
“Pardon?” Caroline looked completely baffled.
“Has my brother proposed to you privately?” Helen asked.
“No. He is to do so at the ball. Can you think of anything more romantic than the Earl of Vale down on one knee and asking for my hand in front of everyone? Just the thought makes me want to swoon,” Minerva said.
“Are you certain?” Chloe asked.
“Of course,” Minerva snapped. “Father is expecting him to ask for my hand soon,” Minerva said.
Brandon planned to speak with the duke? A sudden pain squeezed Amelia’s heart. She had no claim on Brandon. She’d rejected his proposal not once, but twice. She’d hope for a proclamation from his heart, not his honor.
Had he given up on her so quickly and decided to ask Lady Minerva to become his wife?
It had only been two days since he’d cornered her against the wall outside the servants’ entrance and swore he’d continue to pursue her. What had changed? Was his affection so fickle that he could ask her to marry him one day then propose to Minerva so soon after?
She felt a nauseated sinking of despair. The air in the bedchamber grew overly warm and stifling. “Excuse me, but I must take a walk.”
Caroline’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” Amelia lied. “All the excitement has made me overly warm. A quick walk will help.”
Before anyone could protest, Amelia fled the room. She hurried down the grand staircase and out the front door. She inhaled the cool air and walked swiftly. She wasn’t sure where she wanted to go, only that she needed to put distance between herself and the house. Heading straight for the stables, she took a young stable boy off guard.
“I need a horse,” she announced.
“Yes, my lady.” He took one look at her face and went to a stall. He led out a cream-colored mare that looked quite docile. “Bessy here is friendly.”
He helped her mount the horse on the sidesaddle. As Amelia rode away from the manor, she inhaled the sweet scent of wildflowers and clover. Suddenly she knew where she would ride. She came upon the copse of trees and found the unmarked trail. She followed it until she heard the sounds of the bubbling brook.
The last time she was here, Brandon had taken her to the stream during their tour of his property. It was the first time he’d kissed her. She’d never forget the cool shade beneath the canopy of trees, the slight breeze, the sound of the bubbling stream, and his lips grazing hers. She recalled that it was his favorite place to play as a boy, and she imagined him skipping stones across the rippling water. Dismounting from Bessy, she led the horse to the stream and ran a hand down the horse’s side. She exhaled slowly, finally alone with her thoughts.
But her solitude was disrupted by a deep, familiar masculine voice. “Have you come to visit?”
Amelia whirled around to spot Brandon standing on a high rock, gazing down on her.
Her hand flew to her chest. “You gave me a fright!”
He hopped down from stone to stone in smooth, sure steps until he leaped from the last rock to stand before her. The wind had ruffled his hair and a lock rested low on his forehead. She longed to reach up and ease it away from his brow.
“You’ve been away. What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I had business matters to attend and stopped here on my way back. But I can ask the same of you. Why are you here, Amelia?”
Her gaze was drawn to his full mouth and sensual lips. Memories of their first kiss returned in a rush. She shoved the thoughts away and lowered her gaze to his tightly tied cravat. “I needed some time alone. I remembered the solitude of this place.”
“Come sit with me.” He placed her hand on his arm and headed for a flat rock facing the stream.
She resisted. If she sat close to him, her logic would fly from her head. “Wait. I need to
know the truth.”
“The truth?”
Taking a deep breath, she asked the question that was on her mind since she’d left Caroline’s bedchamber. “Are you going to marry Lady Minerva?”
He froze, the muscles in his forearm tightening beneath her fingers. “Where did you hear that?”
He didn’t deny it. A sick sense of betrayal pierced her stomach. “I heard it straight from Minerva’s lips. She said you are to get down on one knee and propose to her tonight at the ball.”
He cursed beneath his breath and shoved a hand through his hair. “Another of my father’s creditors showed the day of the picnic. In exchange for gambling debts, my father offered the textile mill as well as the unentailed Rosehill land as collateral. The money is due in ten days, and I don’t have it.”
She inhaled sharply. He was referring to the land they stood on. She knew how much it meant to him. She recalled that additional tenant farmers lived here as well. The farmers and their families relied on Brandon for their survival. What would become of them if the land was sold?
And what of the factory? She knew how much the textile mill meant to Brandon. He took pride in his work, and he needed the factory’s profits and income. The laborers would surely suffer if he was no longer the owner. Amelia, like Brandon, had often thought of the children. She wanted a better life for them, and she knew Brandon could provide it. She’d wanted to help start a school for the children, and she’d planned on revisiting the factory to oversee the progress. But all would be lost if Brandon was forced to give up the mill to a moneylender who cared only for profit.
She understood the extent of the consequences and what he was forced to do. He needed Minerva’s dowry even more than before.
“It seems to me that you have no choice but to marry her.” Her throat felt like ash as soon as the words left her lips.
Brandon’s gaze held hers. “Nothing has to change between us.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? You need Minerva’s dowry to save the land and the tenants. The factory, too. Think of the children. And of your own family.”
He grasped her shoulders, and his fingers traveled down to caress her arms below her sleeves in little circles. A simple touch and her senses leaped to life.
“We can continue our arrangement. I’ll find a place in London where we can meet in secret.” His voice was low and hoarse.
She stared in amazement. He couldn’t possible mean what he’d said. He wanted their affair to continue after he exchanged wedding vows to another woman?
It was one thing to be intimate with him when neither of them was committed to another, but to go on like they had was unfathomable.
“If you’re insinuating that you want to maintain an illicit affair with me after you marry Lady Minerva, then you are insane.”
His jaw steeled. “Why not? You said you never wanted to marry.”
She glared at him, bristling with indignation. “I won’t be intimate with a married man.”
“What we have is special. Rare.”
The painful tightness in her chest increased. Was he truly going to stand before a priest and exchange vows all the while knowing he would be unfaithful? She couldn’t picture him with Minerva. The thought made her ill.
It doesn’t matter. He needs the money.
Amelia bit back tears.
He shook her gently, his eyes blazing down at her. “Minerva means nothing to me.”
Her traitorous body responded to his touch, and she struggled for restraint. “Stop. Please. It’s over between us.”
“I won’t let you go. I’m coming to your room tonight.”
Panic threaded low in her belly, and she twisted free of his grasp. “Don’t be a jackanapes.”
“You have to come to my study then,” he demanded. “My portrait isn’t finished.”
Anger came to her defense, and she tossed her head back. “It’s nearly complete. Hire another artist to finish it. I no longer care about art lessons. Our arrangement is over.”
Reaching for Bessy’s reins, she mounted the horse on her own and rode back to the house.
…
Brandon warred with every instinct in his body not to pursue Amelia. He wanted to bring her back to the stream where he would make passionate love to her until nothing else mattered but the two of them. But she’d made her intentions clear and had ended their affair. Even the promise of lessons from a Royal Academy master hadn’t been enough to keep her by his side.
He’d made a mess of things and had offended her with his offer to keep her as his lover. He should have known she’d never accept. She was not mistress material. She was marriage material. A woman to cherish for a lifetime.
How could things turn out so badly? He hadn’t yet proposed to Lady Minerva. The dowager and the duchess expected him to make the announcement tonight at the ball. According to his grandmother, he should be grateful the duke’s daughter and her impressive dowry were currently under his roof. Edward Arnold would call again in days, along with his solicitor. The unentailed property would be lost forever. The tenants’ families would be displaced, and the income from their rents would cease.
Then there was the factory. He’d toiled to turn it around and improve conditions for the men, women, and children who worked there. All would return to the way it was if he was no longer the owner.
He picked up a small rock and tossed it. The stone skipped across the surface of the stream. He loved it here and had spent countless hours fishing in the stream and searching for perfect stones to throw. How could he hand the land over when the solution to his problem was willing and available?
The problem was he didn’t like Minerva. He could barely tolerate her presence for half an hour, let alone a lifetime. He’d be expected to bed her for an heir, and then they’d live separate lives. He’d set up a mistress in a London townhouse. Minerva would discretely take a lover.
Good God. His marriage would be just like his parents’.
He couldn’t fathom it. He didn’t want his child to grow up in a luxurious mansion that was nothing more than a cold pile of stone.
So how the hell could he go through with it?
He rode hard back to the house. Smithson took one look at his master’s face and blended in the background. Brandon took the stairs two at a time and shut his study door. The portrait in the corner immediately caught his eye. Amelia had been hard at work when he’d been away.
She’d captured not only his image, but his essence. He looked confident and powerful, yet approachable and intelligent. Is that how she saw him?
The painting wasn’t complete. His clothing and parts of the background needed to be finished. Similar to the half-finished canvas, he felt incomplete without her in his life. He could hire another artist to finish the portrait, but it would never be the same. Just like no other woman could replace her.
The ormolu mantle clock ticked, and the sound reverberated in his skull. Tonight’s ball was hours away—hours until he looked into another woman’s eyes, knelt on one knee, and did the unthinkable.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosehill’s ballroom was awhirl with colorful gowns. Amelia stood to the side of the parquet dance floor and scanned the crowd. All the country neighbors were in attendance tonight, including other landowners from Hampshire. Guests were turned out in elegant evening clothes, military dress uniforms, and magnificent gowns. The younger ladies wore white and pastels, and the married women were garbed in brighter, brilliant shades. Diamonds, rubies, and emeralds glittered beneath hundreds of candles from the magnificent chandeliers. The buzzing of dozens of voices, the clink of glasses, the trill of high-pitched laughter, and the music from the orchestra sounded throughout the room.
Amelia spotted Caroline conversing with a group of ladies by the refreshment table. Caroline caught Amelia’s eyes and waved, then excused herself from the group to approach.
“I was right. You look stunning,” Caroline said.
“It’s the dre
ss.” Amelia smoothed her hands down her skirts.
She had decided to wear the sapphire silk, and the gown felt decadent against her skin. She knew the gown’s vivid color accentuated her blue eyes and fair complexion, but she’d experienced a moment of misgiving as she’d looked at herself in the polished silver after dressing. The gown was the perfect length, but she feared it was too snug in the bodice. Her maid had reassured her that the dress was acceptable for a young lady, and she’d styled her hair into an elegant chiffon and had left a few loose curls to frame her face.
“No. It’s not the dress.” Caroline’s bright eyes traveled Amelia’s form. “It’s you.”
Amelia’s composure was a fragile shell around her. She may be garbed in a beautiful costume, but heaviness centered in her chest. She dreaded the moment when Brandon would propose to another woman. A hundred people would witness the event and congratulation the couple and Amelia would just be another guest amongst the celebratory crowd. Her throat ached at the thought.
“My hope is my brother sees you tonight and comes to his senses,” Caroline said.
Amelia looked at Caroline in surprise. “Pardon?”
“Minerva isn’t for him. I saw the way he looked at you at the picnic. He gazed at you with longing and passion.” Caroline’s hand rose to her chest, and she sighed. “It’s what every lady wishes for. I hope Minerva was mistaken when she said he’d propose to her at the ball.”
She isn’t wrong, Amelia thought.
Brandon didn’t have a choice. He was an earl and duty must come first. He had to think of the land, the factory, and his family—not himself.
Amelia was assailed by a terrible sense of bitterness, but she was also determined to put on a good face. It was best for both of them. Brandon deserved better than a forger’s daughter. And she deserved better than to give up her artistic dreams. She was determined to paint under her real name and exhibit the works that she wanted to paint. And if she ever decided to marry, then it would be for love.
She wouldn’t settle for anything less. “I don’t know what you mean by—”
Real Earls Break the Rules (Infamous Somertons) Page 18