Amelia broke their eye contact and lowered her chin to her chest while she thought about all he had revealed. To have endured so much, and persisted in his pursuit of her despite serving the nation, injury, and her parents’ manoeuvrings. It wasn’t just her mind overwhelmed by his actions, her heart was also so full of emotion it seemed to have expanded to fill her chest. She swallowed to remove the lump in her throat. “Thank you for your honesty. Yours was a very well-thought out and sensible plan, but my parents had a wholly different view of the affair.”
“So I now understand, and I’m sorry to have been the cause. I was naïve about their take on the matter.”
“I don’t think you realise how desperate their money situation is.”
“I ought to have.”
She nodded in acceptance.
He drew a deep breath. “Let us start again, Miss Fortescue.” He held out his hand. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She slid her hand into his and he raised it to his mouth to place a kiss upon her knuckles, all the while his chocolate-coloured eyes gazing into hers. Her heart leapt in her chest. When she spoke, her voice was a little breathless. “And I’m delighted to meet you too. I look forward to showing you around Bath.”
Perhaps Major Adam Wellworth was the gentleman she had been searching for, all these months?
***
Over the next few days, Adam experienced a different and more fascinating Bath than he had on his previous visit.
On Boxing Day, he escorted Amelia to the Pump Room, where their fingers brushed together repeatedly as Amelia passed cup after cup of the appalling-tasting, smelly water to him. That he felt quite bilious when he returned to his hotel was no surprise, but not even turning green from the brew would have stopped him experiencing each jolt of awareness when their fingers touched.
At the Roman Baths the next day, Adam sheltered Amelia under his umbrella from a short sharp shower of rain. Perhaps they could have stood further out of the weather, hard up against the stone walls like the other hardy visitors, but where was the joy in that? Not when Amelia fitted so snuggly against his chest, encircled by his arm.
Another day, with Amelia’s hand nestled in the crook of his arm, they walked the paths of the snow-dappled Sydney Gardens … until Adam guided Amelia behind a wide-trunked tree and stole a kiss. He would have like to have had many more, but the popularity of the gardens in such fine weather was against them and half the town seemed to have chosen that day to perambulate there.
One evening they attended an assembly in the Upper Rooms, where they drew the censure of the Master of Ceremonies for dancing together more than twice. Amelia had blushed hotly as Adam told the man it was an honest error. Lady Lavinia had snapped her fan closed, apologised profusely for her failure as a chaperone to her great-niece because she had been chatting to Colonel Landon, and ushered the couple into her carriage bound for home. To them she said not one word of recrimination. Instead, after tea had been served in the parlour she fell asleep, snoring loudly. Adam and Amelia were left effectively alone, to entwine their fingers, gaze into each other’s eyes and talk, for as long as she slept. And that was a satisfyingly long time.
Adam found Amelia’s interest in helping those less fortunate than herself equalled his own. They visited some of the many charitable institutions that Amelia supported with her time and Lady Lavinia’s money. He told her of his work to assist the families of dead and invalided soldiers from the war.
He wished there was more time before they needed to return to the reality of Wellworth Park and the pressure from Amelia’s parents for her to marry him to resolve their financial plight.
He was more in love with her than ever, but were her feelings for him strong enough for her to want to marry him?
Chapter 8
31 December 1815
Amelia enjoyed the return journey to Wellworth Park in Adam’s well-sprung carriage, which had followed him to Bath. It made travel on the King’s highways as comfortable as it could be. They arrived at Adam’s estate in good time to rest and change for dinner before the evening’s entertainment.
With butterflies performing an unchoreographed dance in her stomach, Amelia entered the drawing room before dinner to meet Adam’s parents and face her own parents for the first time since her flight. Surely they would be gloating because she had fled with Adam, rather than be angry with her?
Her mother gave Lady Lavinia a formal and cool reception, but hurried to Amelia and kissed her cheeks. She took Amelia’s hands and raised her arms to rake her form with her appraising eyes. “My dearest girl, what fine looks you are in! Is she not, husband?”
The Baron gave her a stern look and a forced smile. “Indeed, my love. Very up to the mark.”
High praise indeed from her father.
“Bath and good company must agree with you, dearest,” her mother said.
In an unemotional tone, Amelia replied, “I enjoyed my time with Aunt Lavinia. Is she not looking well?” Amelia drew their attention to her great-aunt on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She must have witnessed and heard her parents’ greeting from her position. Her mother sent a half-smile to Lady Lavinia, who returned a brief nod to the Baroness.
Adam stepped forward as though to relieve the frosty situation. She looked up into his eyes, hoping to convey her plea for assistance. “Adam, help me convince my parents they ought to allow me to marry whom I choose.” The imploring tone she had hoped to keep from her voice, made her sound like the child she no longer wished to be.
Adam held her gaze for a few moments, then turned to her parents. “I agree. Miss Fortescue must be permitted to make her own decision about whom she marries. To be tied for a lifetime to someone whom she does not love and respect would be cruel. I’m sure you agree.” He gave them a long, expectant stare.
Amelia’s parents looked back with haughty arrogance, tinged by open speculation about her relationship with Adam, but did not answer. They were not going to give up.
Adam drew Amelia’s hand through the crook of his arm and broke the spell. “Come meet my parents, Miss Fortescue. They have long wished to make your acquaintance.”
Heat prickled up her neck. What they must think of her, running away from their son’s generosity and leaving them to entertain her free-loading, condescending and rapacious parents for Christmas, without the support of their son?
The gray-haired couple behaved with perfect propriety, greeting her warmly, and it seemed sincerely, and expressing their hope that she would enjoy her stay in their son’s home now that she and her great-aunt were finally able to join them.
It was only a matter of minutes before the butler announced that dinner would be served directly. The group formed into couples determined by their social status, with Adam, as host, escorting Lady Lavinia.
Aunt Lavinia spent much of the dinner talking with Adam’s father and mother, who were seated on either side of her.
As soon as the final course was removed, Adam turned to Amelia. “Allow me to show you the decorations in the ballroom.” He turned to the remainder of the company. “Shall we all go down early?”
They agreed, with varying degrees of enthusiasm—from Aunt Lavinia’s decisive nod that set the feathers of her headpiece swaying, to her parents’ effusive encouragement.
Amelia rested her hand upon his arm. Beneath the black superfine material, hard muscles flexed under her fingers. A warmth suffused her, radiating from her pounding heart to her extremities. Expectation and exhilaration warred with apprehension as her mind debated the meaning of his actions.
Wellworth escorted her from the dining room. Tonight he barely leaned upon his cane. He led her downstairs to the rear of his home, a part of the vast establishment that she had missed on her arrival, and into the ballroom where she slowly turned to view the candlelit room.
Decorating the frames of all the enormous wall mirrors in the ballroom was berry-covered holly. In two massive fireplaces burned large logs that must hav
e taken a team of servants to set in place. At her own family home, there would not be a Christmas log on the estate large enough to come close to these. All of their saleable timber had been cut down last summer to pay off their most insistent creditors. There was no lack of wealth here. Was that why he had wanted her to see home, this room—to prove that she would never need worry about money again?
Within minutes, the first guests arrived and there was no time for anything but meeting them. The clergyman, Mr Boyd, brought his wife and four daughters. Wellworth’s steward brought a similar-sized family, and soon the ballroom was filled with the expectant chatter of people ready and willing to enjoy themselves in a way that no society ball ever achieved because of the fashionable ennui that was required in more exulted society.
They danced sets of country dances until Adam ordered a waltz, handed his cane to a footman, and drew Amelia into his arms to take the floor ahead of the other couples. The laughter lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned down at her, igniting her answering smile. His hand upon her waist warmed her skin through the layers of her ballgown, sending a shiver of awareness leaping through her. Her heart raced ahead of the lilting phrases of the tune played by the local musicians.
How had this man come to mean so much to her and to bring forth so much feeling in her in such a short acquaintance?
They moved off in time with the rhythm. Whatever his background and despite his injury, Adam waltzed divinely. They followed the music as it lilted and swirled, taking her into a fantasy world where Adam and she lived happily ever after. Perhaps that dream could come true?
Too soon, the violins’ notes descended to a finale. Adam brought them to a halt. He stared down at her, as transfixed as she was herself.
He said one word, “Come,” and with her hand still in his, and an arm around her waist, swept her from the ballroom. A stunned silence followed, until, at someone’s command, a country dance started up.
Adam led her into his study—a spacious room filled with leather-bound books, the higher shelves accessed using a sliding ladder. They stood in front of the fireplace filled with crackling flames. “Is it a great cliché for me to kiss you under the mistletoe?” He pointed upwards. “I had Jennings hang it here especially.”
“You are very sure of yourself, Major Wellworth.” She gave him a severe look, but inside, her heart stumbled into a gallop. She would very much like to be kissed under the mistletoe by Adam Wellworth. And now!
“You are at liberty to say no. I will never force myself upon you.”
“I believe that.” She stepped closer and tilted her head towards his.
“I think I know enough about you now to want to follow my heart. Do you know me well enough to consider marrying me?” His grim look belied the entreaty in his eyes.
Her pulse raced at the thought. “You know my parents insist that I marry you because you’re wealthy enough to resolve all their financial problems.”
“I am willing to clear their debts, which are considerable, but I will not be treated by them as a money tree.” He frowned fiercely.
She sighed. “I know that. I would not like that to happen. They must economize.”
“Would you prefer that I did not propose to you, Amelia?” He gazed down into her eyes.
If you did not, I think I might die from grief! She shook her head. “No.” There, she had said it. Such a small word, but one that could change her future.
“Be very sure. You should not accept if you are unwilling to share the rest of your life with me or if you have any doubt at all.”
“Can we discuss that more after you kiss me?” she asked. Her heart pounded in her chest. It felt as though she had waited a lifetime for this moment.
He gave a bark of laughter, then turned serious. His gaze caught and held hers. Surely he sought to read her soul.
Their lips met in a tentative exploration. He trailed soft kisses along her jaw to her earlobe, which he gently sucked, setting her pulse racing. The feel of his tongue and lips on her neck sent shivers of longing through her body. His fingers entwined themselves in her hair, scattering pins to the floor. His teeth grazed the exposed flesh above her collarbone, sending a shaft of desire straight through her womb. She gasped. Oh my!
His mouth returned to hers and easily persuaded her lips to open to the attentions of his tongue. In mere moments, she learned to join him in that dance.
She strained towards him, and his arms tightened around her in response. Her fingers played across the lightly stubbled plains of his face, revelling in the newness of the sensation. Another in-depth kiss left her yearning for more.
How much time passed before the mantelpiece clock chimed the hour, Amelia had no idea. Adam drew back at the intruding sound. His face was flushed, and she guessed she must look the same. An older man, who had been injured serving his country and was a banker’s son, wasn’t such a bad candidate for her husband after all, if that was the way he kissed!
But there was so much more to him than that.
That she wanted this man, all of him, for the rest of time, she was absolutely sure.
“Do you have a question for me?” Amelia asked. Her words puffed out in a breathless way. I hope you do.
Deadpan, he said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Her heart stopped.
Had he lead her on? Did he mean to extract revenge for her bad behaviour towards him? She made to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go.
There was a glint of teasing in his eyes. Then he was suddenly serious. “Marry me, Amelia?” A longing that must match her own added a new, raw timbre to his deep voice.
Her eyes sank closed in thanks. She opened them again and saw the look of desire on his face. “What took you so long?”
He grinned. “May I take that as a ‘yes’? And soon?”
“You may, Major Adam Wellworth. You are at liberty to make me the happiest of women, as soon as possible.” She kissed him again and drew him to the sofa in front of the roaring fire. His arms wrapped around her, and his body pressed her against the backrest. The firelight flushed her cheeks, but it was the feel of his lips on her skin and the certainty that life with this man would bring her happiness and purpose, that filled her heart with joy.
She chuckled at the reversal of her situation—the runaway Christmas bride had become the impatient New Year’s bride. Oh, how her parents would smirk with satisfaction. But she didn’t mind at all.
About the Author
Isabella Hargreaves writes Romance through the Ages. From tenth century England, to the English Civil War, to Regency London and outback Australia in the 1920s, she has a romance to tell.
Isabella lives in Brisbane Australia with her family and a house full of pets. Her love of history surfaced in childhood when she subscribed to a history magazine for children. Years later she became a historian and now she spends her days researching and writing about Australian people, places and institutions.
When she’s not reading and writing, Isabella loves horse-riding and walking. She dreams of an around-the world trip to indulge these passions.
Find out more about Isabella and her books at:
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Other books by Isabella Hargreaves
Regency:
Snowed in for Christmas
The Persuasion of Miss Jane Brody
Gentleman Wanted
Regency Rescues
Wanton Widows
Forbidden Valentines (see below for a free copy)
Divided Isles series:
Enthralled: a Viking Romance
Charity’s Cavalier (English Civil Wars)
1920s Australian Outback series:
All Quiet on the Western Plains
Journey’s End on the Western Plains
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Runaway Christmas Bride Page 5