A Foolish Wager (The Spinsters Guild Book 4)

by Rose Pearson

  “You want me to read this?”

  “It is from Lord Montague,” Lord Havisham explained, handing the letter to Amelia. “He has much to explain.”

  Amelia winced, knowing full well Lord Havisham was aware of just how much torment Amelia had endured of late, given Lord Montague had behaved in such a confusing fashion. Reaching up, she took the letter from him, studying the writing on the front.

  It merely said, ‘Lady Amelia.’ That was all. The seal on the back was Lord Montague’s, and he had been the one to pen her name on the front. The weight of what was contained within began to burden her heart, making her confusion begin to rise within her all over again. Her head grew heavy, and she set the letter down in her lap, refusing to study it any longer.

  “You are not going to read it now?” Lady Smithton asked, looking at her from across the room. “You have no urgency to find the explanation for his strange actions?”

  Amelia lifted her chin, a little surprised at how Lady Smithton had spoken. “I shall read it when I am alone,” she stated, firmly, aware of how Lady Smithton’s cheeks colored. “I have no desire to do so at present.”

  “But of course,” Mrs. Peters interrupted, putting one hand on Amelia’s arm. “That is quite understandable.”

  Lady Smithton rose to her feet abruptly, her color high. Walking across the room, she strode to the window and looked out at the scene below, keeping her back to Amelia and Mrs. Peters. Amelia said nothing, a little confused at Lady Smithton’s behavior but also determined not to open her letter from Lord Montague.

  “I am sorry, Lady Amelia.”

  Surprised, Amelia turned her head to see Lady Smithton still looking out of the window, her voice quiet.

  “I should not have asked you such a thing,” Lady Smithton continued, sounding somewhat tired. “I confess I am very confused as to Lord Montague’s behavior, and I feel as though I have been more of a hindrance than a help to you.” She turned slowly, looking at Amelia with a grave expression. “You came to me with the request that I help you, and I fear I have been entirely unable to do so. Lord Montague’s reputation went before him, of course, but given he has confessed his heart to you, I find myself greatly confused by his actions. I do not know what advice to give you, Lady Amelia.”

  Amelia managed a small smile, seeing the frustration in Lady Smithton’s eyes. “I do not think ill of you, Lady Smithton,” she promised, honestly. “You tried to protect me from Lord Montague, tried to warn me away from his attentions, and yet my heart refused to listen.” A warmth spread across her face, matching the warm regard in her heart as she spoke of Lord Montague, seeing how Lady Smithton nodded. “I confess to you now I have long been struggling with my feelings for Lord Montague, Lady Smithton. I did not want to heed your advice but forced myself to do so—and yet, I found my affection for him continued to grow.” Her eyes began to burn with tears again, her throat aching painfully. “When he spoke to me of his own regard, I felt such joy, I could barely breathe. My heart began to sing with happiness, my whole being filled with such delight that it was as though I had been transported to heaven.” A single tear dropped from her eye, but Amelia immediately dashed it away. “When he turned from me, when he stated he could no longer continue with our courtship, I felt such an agony that it was as though my heart was being torn from my chest, as though my soul was being pulled from my body.” She swallowed hard, refusing to let any more tears fall. “And that pain has not left me as yet.”

  Mrs. Peters pressed the handkerchief to Amelia’s hands, and she took it with a grateful yet wobbly smile.

  “I am truly grateful to you, Lady Smithton,” she finished, seeing the lady shake her head. “You have done your best to guide me, but my heart has been unwilling to give up its affection. I find myself more in love with Lord Montague than ever before, even though he has stepped away from me.” Glancing down at the letter, she shook her head sadly. “Mayhap that is why I do not wish to read this letter, for then I fear it will reveal a truth to my heart I can never recover from.”

  Lord Havisham cleared his throat and took a small step forward, drawing Amelia’s attention. “I must tell you, Lady Amelia, I know the truth of the matter.” He waited for a moment as though he wanted to allow her time to absorb this. “And Lord Montague’s heart is as he states it to be. He does care for you, Lady Amelia. In fact, I believe he has the deepest of affections for you. However,” he continued, making her heart sink to the floor, “there is much you must know first, before your heart can make its choice.” Hesitating for a moment, he glanced towards Lady Smithton, who was looking as uncertain as Amelia felt. “Come to my residence, Lady Amelia. Tomorrow. At four o’clock precisely.”

  Amelia blinked in surprise, glancing at Mrs. Peters, who was looking quite astonished. “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” he stated, quite firmly. “You must be on time. Lady Smithton, you will accompany her, I hope? As well as you, Mrs. Peters.”

  Both ladies nodded at once, leaving Amelia feeling as though she were being swept along without having any firm understanding of where she was going or why her presence was being requested.

  “I think you will be grateful for my eagerness in this, once you fully understand it all,” Lord Havisham explained, not giving any clarity to what he meant. “Read the letter when you will, Lady Amelia, but regardless of what you feel, you must attend tomorrow.” His brows knitted together, as a dark expression flickered across his face. “Lord Montague does not deserve your kindness nor your willingness nor, even, your forgiveness, but I suspect a heart of love will find a way to do so in the end.” A glimmer of a smile crossed his face as he glanced towards Lady Smithton. “A deep affection can cover all manner of sins.”

  Amelia saw Lady Smithton turn her head away, a troubled look in her eyes. The letter burned her fingers, making her look down at it again. What was it Lord Montague had written? What truth did Lord Havisham now know that he feared would turn her from Lord Montague altogether? Her heart began to beat hard against her chest as a swirl of anxiety rushed through her.

  “You will come tomorrow, Lady Amelia?”

  She looked up from her letter, seeing Lord Havisham’s concerned expression. “I—I will,” she agreed, quietly.

  “Even if what you read in the letter turns you away from the idea entirely? Even if you feel as though you do not wish to be with anyone save for your own company?” There was a slight hardness to Lord Havisham’s tone as though he were concerned her word would not be enough.

  Amelia nodded, her eyes narrowing just a little as she looked back at Lord Havisham. “You have my word,” she stated, as Mrs. Peters nodded. “I will be at your residence tomorrow, Lord Havisham. At four o’clock precisely.”

  ***

  It was some hours later before Amelia had a chance to sit alone with Lord Montague’s letter. She had spent some time with Lord Havisham, Lady Smithton, Mrs. Peters, and, latterly, the other members of ‘The Spinster’s Guild’ who had joined Lady Smithton for dinner. There had been a slight strain between Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham, she had noted, which she had found a little troubling. Where it founded from, she could not say, but the quick glances between them and the somewhat stilted conversation made it quite apparent there was something yet unsaid that needed to be spoken of between the two.

  The dinner had been a welcome distraction from all that was going on within her own heart, Amelia reflected, as she thanked the maid before sending her from the room. She had been able to laugh, to smile and to enjoy the conversation between the other ladies of ‘The Spinster’s Guild’ and had felt a surge of hope with the news that one, Miss Bavidge, had managed to find herself a very respectable gentleman and was, in fact, now engaged! The letter from Lord Montague had remained almost entirely forgotten as she had shared in Miss Bavidge’s joy, glad for the lady that she had found such happiness.

  And now, some hours later, she was entirely alone and now ready to read the letter Lord Montague had written her. Lord Ha
visham had given her fair warning that there were to be truths within it that would pain her, but she had already given her word that she would be present at Lord Havisham’s home tomorrow afternoon, regardless of what she read.

  “Oh, Lord Montague,” she whispered, feeling the same surge of pain within her heart that had come to her the very first moment he had stepped away from her, leaving her only with that faint impression of his lips on her hand and a hope that had immediately begun to die away. “What is it you have done?”

  She pressed the letter to her chest, closing her eyes tightly and feeling the bite of curiosity press into her heart. It had been such a wonderful moment, to share with Lord Montague the love that had been within her heart. She had known then that he did not see her as so many others did. They looked at her limp and then at her, in her entirety, whereas he saw only her. Her limp meant nothing to him. He did not disregard her because of it, did not treat her cruelly or mock her over it. Instead, he had found in her a beauty she had barely been able to see herself. He had encouraged her, helped her, brought her forward into the light and refused to allow her to escape back into the darkness. He had defended her to others, had refused to let his peers speak to her in the way they thought she deserved. In short, he had shown her the evidence of his love without even speaking a word of it to her.

  Tears began to cloud her vision, and Amelia blinked rapidly, forcing them away. Her hands shook as she turned the letter over and snapped the seal apart. Unfolding it, she looked it over carefully, her heart racing furiously.

  “My dear Lady Amelia,” she read aloud, her voice nothing more than a whisper. “You will think me a fool, a rogue, and a cad, for that is what I am. I will not shirk from it. And yet, my heart has found a love for you that will never be removed from me. Your name is etched there, ever to remain, even though I know I do not deserve your affections in return. I am unworthy of you, Lady Amelia, for I have done you a most cruel wrong.”

  Her hand pressed to her mouth as she continued to read, no longer able to whisper the words aloud. Her vision blurred; her heart began to ache with such a heavy pain that it was all she could do to continue reading. Lord Davidson had made a bet, and Lord Montague had agreed to it. He had agreed to it due to his own cowardice, his fear—of that, he freely admitted. There was no pretense there, no unwillingness to face the truth. Over and over, he told her he was entirely at fault, entirely to blame. At first, he had thought only to ensure the bet was won and that he would escape without any difficulty, only to find himself in love with her. His heart had built up such a regard for her that he had not known what to do.

  Amelia wanted to scream aloud, such was the agony within her heart. Lord Montague had played her for a fool, and yet within his conniving, there had come a strange affection he had not been able to explain. He had tried to turn from it, just as she had done, but it would not allow him to depart.

  But she had not been sought out by him, as she had first thought. He had not come near to her due to his own, honest interest. He had done so in order to encourage her affections, to get her to fall in love with him so that he might win the bet and be freed from any threat of Lord Davidson’s.

  Her heart burned with a fierce pain that stole her breath. She wanted to cry out aloud but knew she could not do so, for fear of rousing the staff or her uncle. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, the letter now lying on the bed beside her, the final few words left unread. Lord Montague was right to state she would now see him as nothing more than a rogue and a cad. Everything he had called himself, she could not pretend she did not agree with. He had taken her affections and attempted to use them against her, had tried to toy with her heart, but instead had found his own caught up in much the same way as hers.

  Her whole body shook with agony and sorrow. Curling up into a ball on her bed, Amelia pulled the covers over herself, her eyes sore with tears. Lord Montague had betrayed her. Nothing of what he had said, nothing of what he had done, had been honest. His singular desire had been to protect himself from the consequences of what might come should Lord Davidson carry out his threat. He had not cared for her.

  But he has told you the truth now, said a small voice within her. He has confessed all to you because of what he now feels. Are you to turn away from him altogether?

  She could not answer that question, for the pain within her heart was much too great to be reckoned with. Everything in her wanted to remove herself entirely from Lord Montague, feeling the trust she had allowed herself to have in him had now been shredded completely. She did not know Lord Montague, she realized, not in any true sense. She could not tell whether what they had shared had been with the true Lord Montague or with a character he had played in order to encourage her affections. The times he had stood by her side, had come to her defense and had encouraged her to ignore the dark, malicious glances of the ton—had that been nothing more than Lord Montague play acting the gentleman he knew she needed? Or had he truly felt the anger, the frustration and the urge to defend her? Could she trust now that anything he said was, in fact, the truth? Did he really care for her? Was this affection, this regard, truly within his heart?

  What if, in writing this letter, he seeks to have you confess your love for him regardless? Would that not prove to both himself and Lord Davidson, that you have, in fact, fallen in love with him? Love forgives, does it not? It is unrelenting, even in the face of great pain and great wrongdoing. If you write to him, if you go to him and tell him your heart is still filled with none but him, then will he not declare himself the victor?

  Closing her eyes, Amelia covered her face with her hands, feeling her confusion and her doubts beginning to swirl all around her like dark shadows. She did not know what to think and certainly did not know what to do. Lord Montague could not be trusted, for his words might be very easily twisted to have her do what was required for him to win his bet. Lord Davidson might be forcing him to prove she loved Lord Montague so that his bet could be won in its entirety.

  “What do I do?” she whispered, her body beginning to shake as she sobbed into her pillow. The letter fell to the floor, the final few lines still unread, as Amelia began to cry in earnest. Her leg ached terribly, reminding her of its presence, of the strife it had caused her. Her heart was sore, her mind filled with agonized thoughts, and her whole being burning with a mixture of shame and humiliation.

  What was she to do? She had given her word, yes, that she would go to Lord Havisham’s home tomorrow afternoon, but everything within her rebelled against the idea of even leaving the house. She wanted to stay here, hidden away, lingering in sorrow until the pain began to lessen just a little. Why had Lord Havisham been so insistent? Why had he urged her to give her word?

  Soon, a quietness began to take a hold of Amelia’s heart and mind. A quietness that came after a long bout of weeping, sending a weariness through her that she could not ignore. Her eyes began to close, her questions remaining unanswered, but such was her weariness that she could not give them any more of her strength. A few more tears streaked down her cheeks, soaking into her already damp pillow. Lord Montague had taken her for a fool, and she had proven him correct in his estimation of her. She had given him her heart easily, finding she was so desperate to be accepted just as she was that she had allowed her heart to fill with him without much hesitation. Yes, Lady Smithton had warned her from him, and yes, she had tried her best to take heed of such concerns, but she had been quite unable to prevent her affections from growing. In the end, she had been glad to give her heart to him, had been overjoyed to share with him the regard that now lingered with her—and he had promised her that he too felt the same, only to turn his back on her completely.

  Amelia took in a ragged breath, her eyes closing tightly. She did not know what to think now, and certainly did not know what to do. When the morning light came, perhaps she would be able to see things a little more clearly, but for the moment, she would have to linger in her sea of confusion and pain. Sleep would hold no
peace for her, she was quite certain, for her dreams would be filled with none but him.

  “What am I do to?” she whispered aloud, pulling the covers around herself a little more tightly before, finally, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  ***

  “My dear Lady Amelia!”

  Amelia held up one hand as Lady Smithton threatened to swoop down to her, her concern evident in her expression.

  “I am quite all right, Lady Smithton, I assure you,” she said, knowing full well her white face and red-rimmed eyes portrayed precisely the opposite. “I thank you.”

  Lady Smithton blinked, then looked to Mrs. Peters, who gave a small shake of her head.

  “Lord Havisham has explained all to me,” Lady Smithton murmured, gesturing for Amelia to come further into Lord Havisham’s small parlor, where there was a tea tray waiting. “I am very sorry to hear of what Lord Montague has done, Lady Amelia.”

  Amelia said nothing but sat down quickly, feeling a sudden weakness in her limbs she wanted desperately to fight. Ever since she had risen this morning, she had felt herself so tired and weary, it was taking every ounce of her strength merely to continue this conversation. She was numb now, feeling as though her heart had been pulled from her and nothing but an empty space now sitting in her chest.

  “It was a great shock,” she murmured as Mrs. Peters pressed a cup of tea into Amelia’s cold hands. “I did not once imagine I was nothing more than a plaything to Lord Montague.” She turned her head away, not wanting to give in to the tears that threatened yet again. “It has been a difficult truth to accept, Lady Smithton, as I am sure you understand.”

  “And yet,” Lady Smithton said quietly, her eyes searching Amelia’s face as Amelia looked back at her. “There is a small modicum of hope, is there not?”