“And I’m to go to Eton soon,” he continued, causing her another spasm. How would she go on without seeing her son every day? Not a single day since his birth had they been separated. Not one.
Just as tears glazed her eyes, a clod of cold, wet dirt hit the side of her face. Slowly she glanced up and found a horrified expression on Alex’s face. “Oh, Mama, I-I’m so sorry. The spade slipped an—” His words were cut short when Amelia threw a ball of moist dirt, hitting him square on the chin.
“There, that makes us even,” she said, wiping the sticky mud from her face with the back of her hand.
He laughed and shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” Those dove-gray eyes filled with an impish twinkle, an exact replica of Julian’s. “You threw more.”
As Alex extracted a handful of sticky dirt, Amelia shot to her feet. “Don’t you dare, Alexander Thomas,” she said, holding her hands out before her as if to ward off an attack. Too late. The muddy ball splatted her chest and oozed slowly to the ground right on top of her new half boots.
Looking at the damp brown trail down the front of her mint green dress, she couldn’t decide if she felt anger or joy. Perhaps a little of both, she decided and slowly lifted her head. Alex had a filthy hand over his mouth, but not because of surprise or sorrow for what he’d done. No, indeed. The scamp fought to contain his laughter.
Narrowing her eyes, she kneeled down and picked up a goodly amount of the sticky sludge then threw it at him. To her satisfaction, it caught him at the bend of his neck and across his right shoulder.
Alex froze, no longer laughing, and slowly lowered his hands. A gleam came to his eyes and Amelia knew what he meant to do. She shook her head and backed up a step. “No, Alex, that’s enough.” She tried hard not to giggle. “You’ll ruin my pretty new dress.”
But her son didn’t heed her words. Without saying anything, he scooped up an enormous lot of mud with both hands and started in her direction.
With a squeal, Amelia picked up her skirts and ran.
Julian had just concluded business with his estate manager when Jennings met him out in the hall. “Your parents are here to see you, my lord. They are waiting in the drawing room.”
He sucked in a quick breath. “Thank you.” He had expected a note from them and not their bloody arrival, certain they would not leave Megan. Not now.
With a deep breath, he entered the drawing room and noticed his mother perched on the sofa, her brow furrowed in worry. “Hello, Mother,” he said with one of his special smiles.
“Hello, darling.” She rose to her feet to accept his kiss on the cheek.
Then he turned to his father, who had been pacing before the windows. “Father.”
“Julian.” His father withdrew the letter from his coat pocket. “What is the meaning of this? What important news do you have to tell us?”
He opened his mouth, but couldn’t recall one blasted word of the eloquent speech he had planned. Instead, he blurted it out, wishing to have it over and done with. “I have married.”
“You what?” his parents asked in unison. His mother stared at him with wide, horrified eyes, while his father’s glare deepened into a scowl of fury.
Damnation. Taking a deep breath, Julian repeated his announcement. He watched his mother stumble down onto the sofa, her eyes dazed. His father, however, continued to seethe for half a minute before speaking. “Start from the beginning,” Father demanded, then joined Mother other on the sofa.
Left with no alternative, Julian sat on one of the chairs across from them and told them about Amelia, prudently withholding the part about the bet he and Jeremy had made those years ago.
His mother’s head was bowed so he couldn’t read her reaction. Father’s fury never left, and that was to be expected. But Mother was the key. She was the only person alive, perhaps other than Megan, who could defuse Father’s anger in a quick manner. Julian could not possibly allow them to meet Amelia and Alex in such a state. He wouldn’t allow it.
Then Father’s eyes narrowed. “You said her name is Amelia. Is this the same woman Megan had been taking care of?”
Who had caused Megan to become ill? Julian could just about read his father’s thoughts. He glanced over to his mother, who had yet to react, then back and squared his shoulders. “Yes.”
Slowly, his father rose to his feet. “Where is she?”
Julian’s own anger had blazed a fiery path up from his chest to heat his cheeks. He stood and faced his father, his hands balling at his sides. “I will not have you meet my wife as angry as you are, Father.” He took a step forward. “That is the very reason I didn’t invite you to the wedding. You would have no doubt scared Amelia away. Probably for good this time. Locating her and convincing her to marry me was a miracle.”
Father crossed his arms and raised his right brow. “You had to convince her to marry you?” He snorted and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe.”
Julian ground his teeth together. “Actually, she refused. So I had to threaten to take Alex away from her.”
The anger lifted from Father’s face long enough for his brows to pop up. But before he could say another word, Mother rose up from the sofa and placed a hand on his arm. “Surely you haven’t forgotten our wedding day, Joseph?”
Father glanced down to Mother’s upturned face. All the anger drained away. He placed both hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes delving into her soft gray ones. “Ah, Maggie, my love, I haven’t forgotten anything.”
Julian knew how much his parents loved each other. He’d seen it all his life. But witnessing it now was somehow different. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced away. The reason for his discomfort slowly dawned and he walked to the window and glanced out. He watched the gardeners clip stray branches from the ancient dogwood hedge that had probably been planted while Henry Tudor was scheming to do away with another wife. Four wrens sprang out of their mossy houses and flew sporadically to the nearby cluster of sweet chestnut trees.
He crossed his arms and faced what he had been trying to avoid thinking about. The guilt eating away at him. Not only did he still feel guilty as hell for what he had done to Amelia ten years ago, he just added another heaping dose of guilt for how he got her to marry him. Well, hell. She wouldn’t have agreed, otherwise, he reasoned to himself. The stubborn woman would have worked herself to death trying to take care of Alex. He had to do something.
Did he have to use such tactics, a soft voice whispered from somewhere deep within? Couldn’t he have been more patient and tried wooing her first?
Then he thought about coming into Amelia’s bed at night and desire shot right through his body. The corners of his lips sprang up. Twelve nights. Straight. That had been worth any price, he thought, and refused to feel any sort of remorse for them.
Glancing over his shoulder, he grimaced at his parents embracing, and quickly turned back to the window. He recognized something else. Longing. He actually wanted what his parents had. With Amelia. That scared the hell out of him.
“Julian?”
Steeling himself for another round with his father, he turned. He was surprised to see all the anger gone, replaced by a look of pleasant anticipation. His mother’s handiwork. As her smile widened, Julian gave her a grateful nod, knowing his parents would not do or say anything to frighten Amelia.
“May we meet them?” his mother asked.
Relaxing his stiff shoulders, Julian nodded. “Sure. This way.”
Amelia laughed so hard, tears streamed down her face. Alex, sitting in a pile of mud beside her, had his mouth open, laughing just as hard. From head to toe, both were covered in at least an inch of the sticky mud, both blissfully unaware of the three people gaping in disbelief at them.
When a female throat was cleared, Amelia stifled her laughter. Swiping the grime from her eyes, she glanced around. And noticed Julian standing there with his arms crossed, looking like he wanted to murder her. Then she noticed the other two standing beside
him. After a swift intake of breath when she recognized the duke, she nudged Alex—who hadn’t quit laughing—to gain his attention, and rose clumsily to her feet.
The woman, who favored Julian, turned to him. “Well, Son, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Reluctantly, Julian presented her and Alex to his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Kenbrook.
Amelia had never been so mortified. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Her ungainly curtsy caused several clumps of mud to slide from her dress to the ground. Then, before anything else could be said, she excused herself and Alex and made a hasty retreat to get clean.
In record time, Amelia had Alex and herself clean and changed into fresh clothes, all thanks to Ruth and several maids helping out. Slightly out of breath, she entered the drawing room with her son at her side and noticed the duke and duchess’ surprise when they saw Alex not covered in mud. She halted, ready for a quick retreat if they said anything about him resembling Julian. Before a word had been exchanged between any of them, however, Jennings rushed into the room. “This urgent message, Your Grace, from Claremont,” he said, handing the duke a folded piece of paper bearing a red wax seal.
The duke took the message and broke the seal. He read the note then turned to his wife, his expression grim. “Come, Maggie, we must hurry back to London.”
“What is it, Joseph?” Her eyes filled with terror. “Megan?”
“Come,” the duke said gruffly.
“Wait, Father.” Julian stepped in their path. “A horse will be much quicker.”
Kenbrook nodded at his son, then turned to the duchess. “Maggie…”
“Go, Joseph, I’ll be right behind you in the carriage.” The poor woman had lost all color and her hands trembled.
“Don’t worry, love. Our daughter is much stronger than she looks.” With a kiss on her forehead, the duke left the room.
“I’m going with him,” Julian said, then turned and followed his father.
As the duchess started for the door, Amelia halted her. “Would you mind, Your Grace, if Alex and I rode along with you?”
The duchess turned, her dove-gray eyes so much like Julian’s and Alex’s delved deeply into hers for a moment. Then she nodded. “I’d like that.”
Amelia smiled and turned to her son. “Quickly, Alex, run upstairs and retrieve my bag.”
Just as pink and orange streaks tinted the sky, Amelia followed the duchess up the stairs of the Claremont town house. Alex had agreed to see what sort of delicacy Nan had brewed up—agreeing only if Amelia sent word of how Megan fared—and loped off toward the kitchen.
Entering the antechamber to the duke’s bedroom, Amelia bit back a smile. Julian and his father both glared at poor Nicholas, who looked ready to pop with nerves.
Margaret rushed to her husband. “How is she?”
“So far things are well,” Julian’s father stated as he and everyone else rose to their feet.
“So far?” Margaret frowned with concern as she glanced from her husband to her son.
Julian came forward. “There is some concern—only a little—” he hastened to add when the duchess paled “—that the babe hasn’t yet turned.”
Amelia tightened her grip on the large black bag she held in her hands and watched Nicholas turn to the barren fireplace and bow his head. The woman standing beside him, obviously his mother, placed a hand on his back and spoke softly into his ear.
“But Megan is going to be all right, isn’t she?” Margaret asked, her voice strained.
Kenbrook gathered her in his arms. “Of course she’ll be all right, Maggie, my love. You forget how strong our little girl is.” He grazed his lips across her forehead, his hand sliding up and down her back.
Amelia turned away, lest she get caught gaping. Nobles didn’t fall in love, much less show it. But Julian’s parents obviously loved each other deeply. She studied the little mauve rosebuds embroidered along the hem of her dress, puzzled. A pressure of some sort continued to build in the center of her chest. Then the strange sensation dawned on her, and she closed her eyes.
Yearning. A yearning so intense, it nearly took her breath away, but it could not be denied. She wanted Julian’s love.
She wanted to howl. She wanted to throw herself onto the ground and bawl like a babe. How could she have let this happen? She could no longer deny that she was desperately in love with Julian and wanted his love in return. But oh, what a fool she was! Wasn’t being ripped apart once by this man enough?
“Are you all right?”
Startled, Amelia lifted her head and found Julian standing before her, his warm palms burning into her upper arms. How had he gotten so close? She stiffened, about to take a step back, when he pulled her against him.
As the heat of Julian’s body engulfed her, all of the chaos swirling within her calmed in that instant. She melted against him, powerless to halt her reaction. She had no control over her body whenever Julian stood near. She was the puppet, and he the puppet master. Where he led, she followed blindly.
When Julian pulled away and turned, Amelia opened her eyes, blinking as though she had been asleep. Then she noticed Dr. Kellerman walking into the room, and everything rushed back into her mind, making her feel ashamed for forgetting about Megan even for a brief moment.
Nicholas sprang from his chair. “How is she?”
The sadness in the doctor’s eyes and the slump of his shoulders attested that the news would be grim. Amelia held her breath, waiting for the answer.
“The babe will not turn,” Dr. Kellerman said in a hoarse voice.
Amelia felt Julian stiffen at the same time the Duke of Kenbrook walked up to the doctor, making the poor man pale. “And what does that mean, exactly? Is my little girl going to die?”
Dr. Kellerman removed a handkerchief and swiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. “U-Unless the babe turns, th-there is not much I can do.”
The room went silent for a heartbeat, then erupted. Nicholas, Julian, and Joseph surrounded the poor man, demanding he not let Megan die, while Nicholas’s mother and Margaret embraced each other and began to sob.
Amelia took a deep breath, her hands tightening on the handle of the black satchel she still carried, and marched up to Nicholas. “Your Grace.” When he didn’t respond, she tapped his shoulder. “I can help Megan.”
Nicholas spun around. His pain-wracked eyes searched hers, then lowered to the bag in her hands. After a moment of indecision, he nodded. “Come,” he said with a tinge of desperation, “this way.”
Amelia began following Nicholas across the room until Julian’s father held up his hand. “Nicholas, what are you doing?”
Cringing inwardly, she halted. Nicholas, however, took her arm and gently led her past. “She can help, Joseph,” he said, opening the door to the bedroom.
Amelia breathed a sigh when they entered the room and Nicholas closed the door behind them. It came open a moment later. “Your Grace!” Dr. Kellerman hastened forward.
“Amelia can help.” Nicholas shook his head. “Amelia will help.”
Amelia didn’t know whether Nicholas had that much faith in her, or if it had merely been wishful thinking, but at the moment, she didn’t care. Her eyes had traveled to Megan’s small form lying still beneath a mass of blankets. She also wanted to pass out from the room’s heat. Her clothes already felt sticky against her skin.
Turning to the fireplace, Amelia found a roaring fire and bit back a curse. Instead, she moved toward the bed. “Nicholas, put out that fire,” she said over her shoulder; “lest I swoon from the heat.”
Hearing the doctor sputter almost made her smile. Then she reached the bed and all mirth vanished. Megan’s face had no color, her dark hair had plastered to her forehead and cheeks, and beads of wetness dotted her upper lip.
Amelia shook her head, then stripped away every last blanket.
“Now see here,” Dr. Kellerman said, marching forward. “You can’t—”
Amelia
gritted her teeth. “The heat is draining her energy.”
The doctor shook his head. “That—”
“Dr. Kellerman,” Nicholas said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Wasting no more time, Amelia headed to the nearby washbowl to cleanse her hands. “Now give me a clean piece of linen, doctor. And hurry.”
After scrubbing her hands clean, she hurried back to the bed. “Megan?” She pressed a damp cloth over the duchess’ sweaty face. “Can you hear me?”
Megan stirred and opened her eyes. “Amelia?” she whispered, her voice very weak.
Nicholas turned from the fire and started forward.
Amelia held up her hand, staying him. She glanced back down to Megan. “I’ve come to help. Do you understand?”
Feebly, Megan nodded. Then her eyes grew fearful. “The baby? Is the baby going to die?”
When Nicholas took a step, Amelia lifted her hand again, but kept her eyes on Megan. “You’re not going to lose the baby. Not if I can help it,” she said. “But you must not give up. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Megan groaned, her face etched in pain.
Amelia glanced at the doctor. “My bag now, if you please.” She nodded to where she had placed it before washing her hands.
With a sigh, he complied
Murmuring her thanks, she removed several items, then opened a vial and began rubbing the oil onto her hands.
The doctor’s breath caught. “Mrs. Wesson, what are you doing?”
Ignoring Dr. Kellerman, Amelia called to Nicholas. He turned from the fire and hurried to her side. “Do you wish to stay?” she asked.
Both ignored the doctor’s affronted humph.
“Yes.”
“Then go sit beside Megan. Hold her hand, talk to her. Keep her mind from the pain.”
He hesitated, his eyes flickering to her small hands. “What are you going to do?”
Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) Page 14