by Rose Pearson
“Then allow me to court you for a short time,” he said eagerly, sitting forward in his chair as though to convince her by his earnestness. “If we do not suit or if I prove myself to be the rogue you believe me to be—a reputation I know I have earned—then I will tell your uncle I have decided it cannot be.” He smiled and shrugged. “I will take the blame for it all. I will tell him of my reputation, if he is not aware of it already, and will state I don’t think we will suit. Will that allay some of your fears?”
Amelia bit her lip, knowing there was a good deal more to what Lord Montague was proposing than he realized. Given she was affected by his presence, she could not be certain that being courted by him would not give rise to further feelings, which she would then have to continue to battle in order to remove him from her heart and mind completely. Besides which, it was not what Lady Smithton would advise, and Amelia knew very well Lady Smithton’s considerations were worth a very great deal.
“It seems I have no choice but to accept,” she said slowly, hating that her heart turned over at her decision, that her spirits lifted higher than before. “But I will be on my guard against you, Lord Montague,” she finished, trying to bring as much determination to her own heart as to her voice. “I must believe you are just as much the rogue as ever, and your intentions towards me may not be as they seem.”
Lord Montague looked distinctly uncomfortable at this remark and dropped his gaze, running one hand through his fair hair before nodding, clearing his throat as he did so.
“Very well,” he murmured, just as a maid walked into the room bearing a tray which held a teapot, cups and saucers, and a few small delicacies. “I thank you, Lady Amelia, and hope I might prove myself to you in the days and weeks to follow.”
“I hope so also,” Amelia found herself replying without having had any intention of saying anything of the sort. Realizing she had betrayed herself, she tried to focus on the maid and the tea tray, praying he would not notice her reddening cheeks. “Might you send for Mrs. Peters also, please?”
The maid nodded, bobbed a quick curtsy, and scurried from the room, leaving Amelia with the distinct impression that her uncle had not managed to inform Mrs. Peters of Lord Montague’s arrival—possibly deliberately so. Praying it would not be long before Mrs. Peters joined them, Amelia began to pour the tea, keeping her eyes off Lord Montague and focusing entirely on the task at hand.
“Goodness gracious, what is the meaning of this?”
Amelia looked up at once, the color draining from her cheeks as she saw the horrified expression on Mrs. Peters face as she hurried into the library.
“Mrs. Peters, thank you for joining us,” she began, as Mrs. Peters eyes, still wide, turned towards her. “My uncle said he would send for you, but perhaps he forgot to do so, given he was busy with some very pressing matters.” Amelia looked pointedly at Mrs. Peters, hoping she would understand, and thankfully saw Mrs. Peters give the tiniest of nods. “There is more I must tell you, but for the present, might you join us for tea? I would be glad for your company, Mrs. Peters.”
“As would I,” Lord Montague said, earning himself a somewhat dark look from Mrs. Peters. “I am certain we will be much better acquainted very soon, Mrs. Peters.”
Amelia gave her companion a small, apologetic smile, and thankfully, Mrs. Peters chose to sit down without further comment. Amelia knew there would be a good deal to discuss once Lord Montague had left and, from the way Mrs. Peters had reacted to Lord Montague’s presence, Amelia felt uncertain as to how Lady Smithton would respond to her very sudden and unexpected news. Part of her began to dread speaking to Lady Smithton again, to explain to her what had occurred. Would she be angry with her for going against her wise counsel? Reprimand her for wasting her time when it was clear she had suitors willing to look at her, regardless of her limp? Or would she understand Amelia had been in a difficult situation, what with Lord Montague going to her uncle first? Swallowing hard and feeling nothing but doubt and uncertainty, Amelia handed the cup of tea to Lord Montague and gestured for him to help himself to the cakes set out before him. She now longed for this visit to be over so that she might speak candidly to Mrs. Peters, in preparation for what she would have to then say to Lady Smithton.
***
“I came to you just as soon as I could.”
Amelia pressed her lips together tightly to force herself not to say another word. Lady Smithton was staring at her as though she had never seen Amelia before in her life, her face a little pale and her eyes lacking their usual sparkle. Having told Lady Smithton that Lord Montague was now to court her, it seemed the astonishment of Amelia’s news had overwhelmed her.
“I have spoken to the Earl,” Mrs. Peters added, her voice and expression grave, “but he insists Amelia accept Lord Montague’s courtship. I did express my concern, given Lord Montague has such a dire reputation, but I’m afraid the Earl merely brushed aside my concerns and told me it was quite clear Lord Montague intended to court Lady Amelia.”
Amelia swallowed hard, wanting to state, for the second time, that it had not been her intention to accept Lord Montague, but her uncle would not have permitted her to refuse. She would not have said, however, there was a part of her that was glad for such an arrangement, a part of her that hoped Lord Montague was not about to turn around and treat her as he had done so many others. After all, said a small voice, he had not courted any of the other young ladies he had sought out, had he?
“I—I must say, this is quite unexpected,” Lady Smithton murmured, sounding quite breathless. “Lord Montague is not at all the sort of gentleman to do such a thing and yet…” She frowned, looking steadily at Amelia. “Yet, he has decided to court you?”
“It is a surprise, to be sure,” Amelia admitted, feeling a little stung by Lady Smithton’s evident astonishment. “I cannot pretend part of me does not hope there may be a genuine interest on his part, whereas I know the truth must be that there is another motivation he is hiding.” She held her breath, wondering if Lady Smithton would contradict her, would tell her she was mistaken, but to her disappointment, Lady Smithton began to nod, slowly.
“There must be,” she admitted, looking at Amelia with concern. “Lord Montague is, from what I understand, a wealthy gentleman with very little financial concerns. However, he would not be the first gentleman to hide the truth from society. You must be very careful, Lady Amelia.”
Amelia managed a small smile. “Then you do not blame me for accepting him?”
Lady Smithton looked horrified. “No, of course, I do not!” she exclaimed, one hand pressed against her heart. “I can understand your difficulties entirely. I was also in a similar circumstance, given I had no choice whatsoever when it came to my husband.” She shook her head sadly, a far-off look in her eyes. “It is our fate, it seems, to be told what we must do and what we must not. I count myself very fortunate indeed to have been allowed such freedom as I now experience.”
It was on the tip of Amelia’s tongue to ask whether or not Lady Smithton would be willing to give up such freedom in order to marry again—having Lord Havisham in mind—but a quick glance towards Mrs. Peters told her she ought not to say anything.
“Therefore,” Lady Smithton said, giving herself a small shake, “here is what we shall do. You shall continue your courtship with Lord Montague, Lady Amelia, given you have no choice but to do so. Mrs. Peters or I shall always accompany you, and we shall all continue to seek out a reason for his eagerness to court you. Lord Havisham will be more than able to assist with this particular matter, given he can frequent places I cannot.” She gave Amelia a small smile, which, whilst encouraging Amelia a little, did not prevent her from feeling a small sense of guilt that she had not told Lady Smithton everything—namely that she found herself secretly a little glad to be courting Lord Montague. “Have no fear, Lady Amelia,” Lady Smithton finished, sounding a little more resolute. “You shall not be left alone in this circumstance. Together, we shall do our very best to protect y
ou and remove you from this unfortunate situation—and to place you back amongst gentlemen who are a good deal more suited to you than Lord Montague.”
“I thank you,” Amelia replied gratefully. “As always, you are very kind, Lady Smithton.”
“There is no need to thank me,” Lady Smithton replied, getting up to ring the bell for tea. “I am glad to help, Lady Amelia. Truly.”
Chapter Nine
The day was very fine indeed, with the sun shining beautifully in a cloudless, blue sky, the flowers resplendent in all their glory and a delicate butterfly or two making their way from flower to flower.
And yet, Oliver felt nothing but dismay.
“It is a beautiful day, is it not?”
He cleared his throat, looking down at Lady Amelia as she walked beside him, her face upturned to the sky without any clear desire to hide her skin from the sun, as so many other young ladies might do. “Yes,” he murmured, aware of how she leaned on him as they walked. “It is a very fine day, and I am glad to share it with you, Lady Amelia.” This, he had to admit to himself, was truthful indeed, for there was something about Lady Amelia’s company that brought joy to his heart. They had been courting for a little over a sennight now, and he had called upon her almost every day, wanting to ensure he did all he could to impress his feelings upon her. Feelings he was having to convince himself he did not truly feel.
“Oh, good afternoon, Lord Montague!”
“Good afternoon, Lord Chadderfield,” he replied, aware the newly titled Viscount Chadderfield—who had held the title for a little over a year now—was both arrogant and more of a gossip than any lady he had ever encountered. “And might I inquire as to whom it is you are walking with this fine day?” He smiled politely at the young lady standing beside Lord Chadderfield, taking in her delicate frame, sweet smile, and the sharpness of her eyes. She was not looking at him but instead was studying Lady Amelia. Oliver felt his stomach twist, fearing something untoward was going to be said to Lady Amelia.
“This is Lady Alexandra,” Lord Chadderfield replied, throwing a quick glance towards the young lady. “And her mother, Lady Spencer, is a short distance behind us—although she will reach us soon.” He chuckled, making Lady Alexandra giggle, batting her eyelashes in Lord Chadderfield’s direction. “And I would inquire as to your companion’s name, but I believe we are both already fully aware of it.” Again, he chuckled, but this time, in a somewhat unpleasant manner, making Oliver’s skin prickle with disdain. “Lady Amelia, is it not?”
Lady Amelia inclined her head towards Lord Chadderfield and then towards Lady Alexandra, murmuring a short greeting. She said nothing more, but as she lifted her head, Oliver saw the pinkness in her cheeks and felt a slight stab of pain. Was this how she always felt when she was greeted by another member of the ton? Was she always afraid of what they would say? What they would think?
“We should continue our walk,” he said, not wanting Lord Chadderfield or Lady Alexandra to say anything to Lady Amelia that would embarrass her. “If you would excuse us.”
“I must confess, I am surprised to hear you are courting Lady Amelia, Lord Montague,” Lord Chadderfield said, taking a small sidestep to prevent Lady Amelia from moving forward. “I did not think such a lady would capture your interest.”
Oliver bristled, a spurt of anger burning through his heart. “You may very well be surprised, Lord Chadderfield, but I can assure you Lady Amelia is the only lady in all of society who has ever captured my attention in such a profound manner,” he stated, feeling Lady Amelia’s hand tightening on his arm. “If you will excuse—”
“You will excuse my bluntness, Lady Amelia,” Lord Chadderfield continued, interrupting Oliver, “but I must say, someone who has such difficulties as you do, Lady Amelia, could never once have thought Lord Montague would ever consider you!” He laughed as Lady Alexandra again began to giggle. “You must be blessed indeed, Lady Amelia—unless you have something over Lord Montague forcing him to stand by your side and insist all is well between you both and that he does, in fact, have a true regard for you.”
“It is quite unbelievable, otherwise!” Lady Alexandra trilled, her eyes dancing with mirth as though Lady Amelia was worth nothing more than her mockery. “What is it that you have done to Lord Montague, Lady Amelia? Have you convinced him he needs your dowry? Has he made an agreement with your uncle whereby he will be given a great deal if he will only marry you?” She laughed again, as Lord Chadderfield continued to grin maliciously. “All of society is watching you with interest, Lady Amelia. I believe there are even some who are placing wagers on just how long such an interest will last.”
“That is enough!”
Oliver had not meant to shout, had not meant to have his voice explode from his chest with such force that it shocked the smile from Lady Alexandra’s face and the grin from Lord Chadderfield’s lips. His rage had become so great, his anger over how Lady Amelia was being spoken to bursting through him with such force that he could not contain it any longer. His brows were low over his eyes, his hands clenched tightly together as he glared at Lord Chadderfield, who had now, at long last, finally lost some of the arrogance from his expression.
“That is enough,” he said again, his voice much lower now but still holding as much severity as before. “How dare you speak to Lady Amelia in such a way? How dare you attempt to mock her? Attempt to ridicule her? Attempt to make her feel as though she is unworthy of being courted, of being noticed and of being appreciated, just as any other young lady might be?” He took a small step forward, with Lady Amelia’s hand falling from his arm. “Do not think I will permit you to make such comments again, Lord Chadderfield,” he finished, pressing one finger into Lord Chadderfield’s chest. “The next time you choose to do so, there will be consequences.” He did not speak of what such consequences might be but could tell from the flare of Lord Chadderfield’s eyes that he did not need to do so. The gentleman was both taken aback and a little afraid of Oliver’s threats. Oliver continued to stand directly in front of Lord Chadderfield, glaring down at him, until the quiet voice of Lady Amelia pulled him back.
“I believe Lady Smithton is approaching,” she said, her voice calm and each word bringing an increasing sense of stillness to Oliver’s anger. He turned to look at her, aware of how Lord Chadderfield immediately took a step back, whilst Lady Alexandra began to whisper furiously under her breath.
“Is she?” he asked, looking behind Lady Amelia and seeing how Lady Smithton was hastily coming towards them as though she knew something was afoot. She was accompanying Lady Amelia, of course, but had allowed them a few minutes to walk ahead and converse alone. Oliver frowned, seeing the dark expression on Lady Smithton’s face and how her eyes narrowed as she glanced at him. Evidently, she had already decided he was entirely to blame. Giving Lady Amelia a quick smile, he then turned sharply back towards Lord Chadderfield and Lady Alexandra, his brows burrowing low.
“I do not think there is anything further to say, Chadderfield, save for your apology to Lady Amelia.”
Lord Chadderfield, who had been on the point of turning around to take Lady Alexandra away from both Oliver and Lady Amelia, stopped dead and stared at Oliver, his mouth a little ajar. Perhaps he had expected to be able to get away from them without any further comment, but Oliver was not about to allow him to do so.
“Whatever is the matter?” he heard Lady Smithton say, her breathing a little quickened as she came to stand by Lady Amelia. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” Oliver replied firmly, not looking away from Lord Chadderfield for even a moment for fear the fellow would scurry away. “It is only that we are waiting now for Lord Chadderfield and Lady Alexandra to apologize to Lady Amelia.”
There was a momentary silence.
“Apologize?” Lady Smithton queried, sounding confused. “What was said?”
Oliver looked behind him, straight into Lady Smithton’s face, his stomach twisting this way and that. He knew full well he
was nothing more than a hypocrite, insisting Lord Chadderfield apologize for his rudeness towards Lady Amelia when he himself was guilty of a far worse crime. Despite that, however, Oliver was not about to allow Lord Chadderfield away from Lady Amelia’s presence without apologizing for what had been said. He was angry about how she had been treated, furious as to how easily they had mocked her. It was as though they cared nothing for their own behavior, did not even give a flicker of a thought as to how Lady Amelia might feel about their harsh words.
“It does not bear repeating, Lady Smithton,” he told the lady, seeing how she moved a fraction closer to Lady Amelia, clearly wanting to protect her. “But needless to say, it was cruel, unnecessary, and entirely unacceptable.” His voice grew louder as he turned back to see Lord Chadderfield drop his head, perhaps now a little ashamed of what he had done, given that now Lady Smithton was also present and hearing of what had occurred. “Lord Chadderfield, Lady Alexandra.” He spread his hand out towards Lady Amelia, expectantly.
It took some moment but, in the end, Lord Chadderfield sighed, shuffled his feet, cleared his throat, and then darted a quick glance towards Lady Amelia before lowering his head again.
“I apologize, Lady Amelia, for speaking without consideration,” he said, his voice so quiet, Oliver could barely make it out. “It was uncalled for.”
Oliver tipped his head just a little and looked into Lady Alexandra’s face, seeing how she was looking from Lady Amelia to Lady Smithton and back again. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, and Oliver realized she was a little overcome with the fear of what Lady Smithton might say to others within the ton about what she had said to Lady Amelia. Lady Smithton held a high standing within society, and Oliver considered it quite correct for Lady Alexandra to feel so afraid.
“Lady Alexandra,” he murmured, seeing how the lady’s eyes darted to his, before dropping to the ground. Her cheeks began to color as she murmured an apology, which Lady Amelia accepted with a nod.