by Ella Edon
“And you stay away from my daughter.”
He stormed past him towards the door, flinging it open. Derby flinched as the door slammed behind him seconds later.
* * *
“I don’t know how you can sit there for hours, reading,” Beatrice sneered.
Amy glanced up at her stepmother. She had planned to escape from everything in the library, curled up by the fire with a good book. Her father only had a library to show off his status. As far as Amy was aware, he had never selected anything off the shelves. And Beatrice found reading vulgar, especially the stories Amy loved.
Expecting to be left alone, Amy’s heart had sunk when Beatrice had come in, sitting across from her with some embroidery. The older woman looked like she would rather be anywhere else, but she refused to move, and Amy had done her best to ignore her.
“There is such a thing as being engrossed in a book,” Amy pointed out. “And this is a fascinating story.”
“A likely story.” Beatrice sniffed. She squinted at the faded title. “I bet it’s another one of your romances.”
“It’s called The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole. It’s hardly a romance.” Amy smirked. “Why don’t you give one of these books a try? You might find that you like it.”
Beatrice snorted.
“I’m not wasting my time reading such ghastly things.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“At least I’m making use of my time.” Beatrice declared, holding up her embroidery. Amy had to concede that her stepmother was a beautiful seamstress and very good at designing anything with a needle and thread. It made her feel awful to admit that the various cross-stitch pictures in her room were from her stepmother, and they were actually very pretty.
Far off in another part of the house, Amy heard the slamming of a door and her father’s voice booming through the halls. He had suddenly headed off into the evening without any warning, leaving Amy concerned. Her father had looked ready to fight someone. Not a good sign. His temper had been steaming for most of the day, which had been the reason Amy had kept out of his way as much as she could.
She looked up from her book as Hartley strode into the library, singing to himself. This had her more on edge than his angry side. He had been up to something, and he felt like he had won. Amy didn’t like it when Hartley thought he was on top. He was insufferable enough, as it was.
Why couldn’t she have a nice, decent man as a father?
Beatrice smiled at her husband.
“Did it go well, my dear?”
“Yes, it certainly did.” Hartley kissed his wife’s forehead. “I think he got the message loud and clear.” Then he looked at Amy and scowled. “Honestly, Amy, are you still reading?”
“Yes, I’m still reading.” But now it was the farthest thing from her mind. “What are you talking about, Father? Who got the message loud and clear?”
“Who do you think?” Beatrice snorted. “At least the Earl knows his place now after your father’s seen to him.”
Amy froze. She didn’t need to ask who they were talking about. Her father had gone to see Derby.
“You went to see Lord Derby? Why would you do that?”
“You’re not that much of a fool, Amy.” Hartley snorted. “You should not be conversing with that man. He’s not our sort. And I will not have you debauched by him.”
Amy suddenly felt very cold. What had Hartley been saying? She shot to her feet, her book falling to the floor.
“What do you mean, debauched? Nothing sordid has ever happened between us, Father. You know we’ve known each other since we were children. And while you consider me stupid, I’m not that stupid to get myself into a scandalous position.”
“Liar,” Hartley sneered. “You’d do it the first chance you got.”
“Your opinion of me is so high, Father.”
Hartley shook his head, stroking Beatrice’s. Then he advanced on his daughter.
“You are so naive, Amy. I’ve seen the way that earl looks at you. The thoughts in that man’s head are certainly not honorable. If that harlot you call a mother hadn’t been there, something would have happened.”
Amy gritted her teeth. No one insulted her mother, not even the man she had once been married to. She hissed at her father.
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’m looking out for your interests.”
“You mean yours,” Amy snapped.
Hartley’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth, and then there was a loud bang. One of the windows exploded and glass scattered across the room. Another window blew out with a second bang as Amy ducked, and she felt something burning on her face. She collapsed to the floor, feeling the shattered glass cut into her hands. Hartley had also dropped to the floor, scrambling over to his wife. Beatrice had started screaming, covering her head with her hands as she shrieked. Through her pain, Amy saw her father grab Beatrice and hurry her out of the library, leaving her behind, lying on broken glass. And he didn’t come back.
* * *
James finished cleaning the cut and sat back.
“Does that feel better?”
“Much better.” Amy smiled at him. “Thank you.”
It didn’t feel much better. Her face was stinging. Some of the glass had cut her cheek and her hands and arms. James had even had to take a thick hunk of glass out of her knee. Her knee was now bandaged tightly, and Amy could feel her leg throbbing.
At least Hartley hadn’t argued when Amy said she wanted her stepfather to treat her wounds. She despised the odious, leering old man who had been the family doctor longer than Amy had been around, and she certainly wasn’t allowing him anywhere near her knee. Hartley had the old doctor tending to Beatrice, as it was, his wife claiming she was suffering a breakdown.
Amy found it ridiculous that her stepmother was creating such a fuss, and yet she hadn’t been touched. Amy had taken the brunt of it, while Hartley had been shot. It was a flesh wound to his shoulder, the bullet having buried itself into the wall, but Hartley wasn’t creating havoc over it. If anything, beyond having himself seen to, he was acting as if he hadn’t been harmed.
If only he had been more concerned about his daughter. The two of them had left Amy in the library, sprawled in broken glass, wondering if she was going to be shot at again. Thankfully, there had only been two bullets, but it didn’t help Amy’s nerves. She was still shaking even after James had tended to her wounds.
“I must say you were very lucky,” James commented as he began to pack his things away into his bag. “That glass could have gone into your eye had it been up a few inches.”
Amy grunted.
“Something to tell the grandchildren,” she muttered.
“I’m sure.” James turned to her, laying a hand over hers. “What’s on your mind, Amy?”
“What do you think? I was shot at.”
“Not just that. Something else is going on in there.” James tapped the side of his head. “You’ve got your mind elsewhere.”
Amy sighed. She looked at their joined hands in her lap.
“Father was shot, but he survived. I wish he had been wounded more.” She gulped. “I wish he had been killed.”
Chapter Seven
Saying it out loud sounded worse than when she had said it in her head. Amy winced when she realized how awful it sounded. James frowned and shook his head.
“Now, don’t be silly, Amy. That thinking is not good for you.”
“Even after the way he’s treated me?”
“Wishing ill will on someone isn’t going to get anyone anywhere.” James sighed. “You’re just going to end up regretting your words.”
But Amy was shaking her head.
“I don’t think so. He’s destroying what relationships I have, isolating me from people I consider friends.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just before we were shot at, Father said he had just warned the Earl of Derby off me.” Amy swallowed. Thinki
ng of what damage Hartley might have done was making her cold. “He thought he was the better man by threatening Derby.”
What had Derby thought of him? Hopefully, he would brush it aside and ignore it all. Amy didn’t want to lose her friendship with Derby. It would break her heart if he turned his back on her now.
“He’s just trying to put himself above everyone else and feel good about it,” James said gently. “Ignore him.”
“How can I, James? He can have me locked in my room if I ignore him or sent me away to another part of the country. I can still be interred as a nun, you know.”
James laughed.
“I can’t see you taking the veil willingly or otherwise if I’m honest.” He patted her hand and withdrew, closing his bag. “Look, don’t worry about that. You know your father’s nothing but hot air when it comes to threatening men. It won’t be long before you’re out of here.”
“As someone else’s property,” Amy grumbled. “I don’t want to be passed around like a possession. That’s not fair.”
James' expression softened. He gave Amy a gentle smile, reaching out and brushing his fingers down her good cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Things will get better,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Amy wished that James was her father. He was kind, considerate, and respectful. Anna was happier with him, and James was a sweet man towards Amy. She wished things were different. Maybe life would be nicer for her if James was her father instead of Hartley.
She started as the door opened, and Hartley came in. He wasn’t wearing his coat, only his shirtsleeves. One sleeve had been ripped off, and his arm had a stark white bandage wrapped around his bicep. His face was pale, and that startled Amy. She had never seen her father look shaken before.
“Have you finished, Doctor Day?” Hartley asked sharply.
“I have.” James stood, picking up his bag. “Just a few scratches, nothing more. But I would advise that Miss Hartley takes it easy when walking. That shard of glass was embedded quite deep.”
“I’m sure Doctor Fawn will be able to deal with that at a later date,” Hartley said abruptly. “You can see yourself out now.”
James glanced at Amy and gave her a farewell nod. Then he left the room, giving Hartley a wide berth. Hartley watched him go wordlessly. Amy was surprised the two men could even be in the same room as each other and not end up in a verbal altercation. Kind and placid as James was, he was very protective and could become hot-headed as a result. Hartley enjoyed goading the doctor. This time, he simply let the man go.
He turned back to Amy as the door closed behind James.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Amy lied. She resisted the urge to rub at her cheek. “It stings, but I’ll live.”
Hartley nodded. He was looking less sure of himself than before. Softer, even. Amy hadn’t seen her father like this in a long time. His mouth twitched in a slight smile and gestured towards the windows of the morning room.
“My heart nearly stopped. I’ve never been shot at before.”
“I felt the same.” Amy saw how white her father was and that he was swaying a little on his feet. “Are you hurt, Father?”
“It’s just a flesh wound, nothing more than a few scratches. Whoever shot at us was pretty lousy.”
Amy couldn’t agree more. For a moment, father and daughter shared a look of understanding. It was as if they had come together in a moment of crisis. Amy found herself wanting to run into her father’s arms and embrace him, a comforting hold as she stopped shaking.
But she stopped herself from doing so. A moment ago, she had wished him dead, and now she wanted to hug him? Her emotions were all over the place, and Amy didn’t know what was going on anymore. Hartley hadn’t been one of the most sentimental people, and they hadn’t shared an embrace in years.
She had to be going mad. All because Amy’s nerves were fractured.
Then her father cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders.
“I’d better retire for the night,” he said gruffly. “There’s a lot to do tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Father.”
Hartley hesitated for a moment longer, and then he left the room. Amy slumped on the couch, staring at the fire. She had no energy left. Everything about her was just numb. She couldn’t feel anything.
* * *
Derby took his drink from the tray the servant was holding and held it up to Merseyside across the fire from him.
“Good health.”
“Good health.”
Merseyside threw back his head and finished his drink in one gulp. Derby merely sipped his, watching his brother-in-law. As soon as he found out Merseyside was back in London, Derby had invited him out to the club to toast becoming relatives. Merseyside had accepted readily, his eyes lighting up at the thought of a drink.
It looked like the time away from London had brought a light into his eyes that hadn’t been there before. The Marquis was looking happier, more relaxed.
Derby couldn’t remember the last time he had been that relaxed.
“How are you enjoying married life, then?” He grinned. “It’s not too much of a strain on you, is it? That’s what you were moaning about before.”
“Married life is better than I thought and more,” Merseyside smirked. “Do you really want all the details of what I’ve been doing with your sister?”
“I wasn’t asking for a blow-by-blow account of what you did to her. It was merely me asking if your opinions on marriage have changed.” Derby shuddered. “I’m sure I can conjure up a mental image, one that I don’t want to have in my mind.”
“Well, when you said blow-by-blow account…”
“Kenneth, enough.”
Merseyside laughed. He sat back and stretched out his legs.
“Don’t worry, Derby; I don’t kiss-and-tell. Just be assured that Sarah isn’t going to be mistreated anytime soon. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
“I should hope not.” Derby looked at the Marquis over the rim of his glass. “She was quite fond of you before the match. Did you know that?”
“Oh?”
“Sarah told me she had a soft spot for you.”
It certainly explained why previous potential matches had gone badly due to Sarah’s opposition. She had already set her heart on someone, and in her own way, she was directing Derby towards the man she wanted.
Merseyside puffed out his chest.
“I’m glad I could please.”
“Well, it’s certainly put a spring in your step.” Derby sipped at his drink before putting it on the table at his elbow. “Being married suits you.”
“I suppose it does.” Merseyside grinned. “I never thought just having one woman, a stable person at your side, could make me feel...better, I suppose you would say.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You should try it sometime. Could put some color into your cheeks as well.”
That had Derby stiffening. He had contemplated marriage very briefly a while back, but not anymore. Not after the chance, he could have had slipped through his fingers.
As far as he was concerned, women were liars. They weren’t to be trusted at all. It was just easier to be left alone.
“I don’t think so, Merseyside,” he said crisply. “Marriage isn’t on the cards for me.”
“And why not? You’re an eligible bachelor. You could take your pick.” Merseyside chuckled. “Last I heard, practically every unmarried lady is queuing up to get your favor and become your countess.”
“I’ve heard that as well.” Derby shook his head. “I’m not interested.”
If it had been anyone else, they would have fallen silent and left the conversation alone. But not Merseyside. Was it because he was a fool or because he loved to goad his friend, Derby had no idea. The Marquis sat forward, his eyes glinting.
“Not even Rebecca Colburn? I’ve heard she’s set her sights on you.”
Derby glared at him.
“Don’t mention
that girl to me,” he hissed. “I would happily never see her again.”
“Whoa,” Merseyside whistled, “You really do dislike. I’ve never heard you say that about any woman. You’re normally so diplomatic.”
“She certainly makes me less diplomatic.”
“So, no chance with her at all?”
“Why are you still asking?”