The Earl's Betrothal

by Tuft, Karen

“Me, Meela! Me now!” Penny said, her tiny fingers wiggling to get hold of the crown.

  “A fairy queen, indeed,” a deep male voice said. “Good afternoon, Mother, Louisa. Miss Clarke.”

  Amelia felt her cheeks heat up as she removed the flowers and set them on Penny’s head. The dratted man was always making her blush. One would think she was a schoolgirl, the way she reacted to him. She straightened and brushed off her skirt before offering a polite curtsy.

  “Kit and I were on our way to the cricket match when we realized the races were happening first. Has Will dragged Farleigh to victory yet?”

  “It will most likely be the other way around,” Lady Louisa said. “William has lofty ambitions but very short legs.”

  “Up!” Penny commanded, so Lord Halford dutifully picked up his tiny niece and settled her on his hip. She patted her crown. “Pretty!”

  “Pretty, indeed. You are the very image of springtime,” Lord Halford said, kissing her cheek and then acknowledging an exuberant Will, who was waving at him from the starting line. “Hm, perhaps we should test our own racing abilities, Kit,” he said.

  “I would hate for you to lose your dignity in front of your family when I beat you, Tony.”

  Lady Louisa and Lady Ashworth laughed. “There is a challenge if I ever heard one, Anthony,” his mother said.

  “I feel a wager coming on,” Lady Louisa said.

  Lord Halford set a wiggly Penny back on the ground. She was ready to be free now that she had gotten her kiss. Amelia told herself it was foolish to feel envious of the child.

  “It is a three-legged race, Kit, if you had not noticed,” Lord Halford said. “We will each need a racing partner if this challenge is to occur.” He turned to Amelia. “Miss Clarke, how about you? Will you be my partner in the three-legged race? I need someone young and capable, you see, and so I must ask you quickly before Kit here beats me to it.”

  Amelia looked at Lord Halford in alarm.

  “Quite so,” Lady Louisa chimed in. “Mama would never do it, and I would not be an asset to anyone in my condition.”

  “Not to mention, Farleigh would lock you in your room for the rest of your confinement,” Lord Halford pointed out.

  “True enough.” Lady Louisa sighed.

  “I will search for a worthy partner, then,” Lord Cantwell said. “I think I see Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps she will do me the honors.” He walked briskly toward her.

  Lady Elizabeth participating in a three-legged race seemed ludicrous, but Amelia was too intent with getting over her shock to pay any heed to it.

  “What do you say, Miss Clarke? Are you up to the challenge?” Lord Halford said.

  “What fun! Oh, I do envy you, Amelia,” Lady Louisa said.

  Amelia turned to Lord Halford, determined to refuse. Oh, but it was tempting to say yes, to participate fully in the activities of the day and not feel as though she existed only on the fringes. To actually belong.

  His bright blue eyes shone with merriment . . . and something else, something that dared her to take up the gauntlet he had thrown down at her, the same look he had given her when he had asked her opinion during dinner the night before.

  “Very well. I accept,” she said.

  The corners of Lord Halford’s mouth curved up slightly.

  “Oh, well done!” Lady Louisa clapped enthusiastically.

  Amelia wasn’t so sure.

  The call for the beginning of the first race, the one for the youngest children, was made, returning their attention to Lord Farleigh and young William. And then the starting gun fired, and mayhem ensued. The crowd laughed and cheered as fathers and mothers and children tumbled and twisted forward toward the finish line. Several pairs of runners collapsed to the ground, legs hopelessly tangled, while the more successful ones lurched onward, including Lord Farleigh and Will.

  Amelia hoped no one broke a limb this afternoon.

  As they neared the finish line, Will tripped and fell flat on his face, with Lord Farleigh cartwheeling awkwardly over him to avoid landing on top of him. Lady Louisa gasped, and Lady Ashworth threw her hands over her mouth.

  Lord Halford and Lord Cantwell laughed and yelled encouragement.

  When Lord Farleigh found his balance, he yanked Will up, anchored him next to his thigh, little Will’s feet dangling a few inches above the ground, and hobbled to the finish line, taking a respectable third. It would ensure that they received a ribbon, and Amelia imagined any ribbon would be enough for Will.

  The next two races, one for the older children and one for youth in their teens, followed as the family congratulated Lord Farleigh and Will on their accomplishment. Will had the ribbon pinned proudly on his chest.

  “It’s nearly time for our race, Miss Clarke,” Lord Halford said over the hubbub. “Let us get ourselves leg-shackled, shall we?”

  Lady Ashworth looked at him suspiciously.

  “That is not amusing!” Amelia whispered as he took her by the arm and guided her over to the starting line. “You know very well what your words imply, and it will not do for anyone to hear you say such a thing.”

  “Come, my dear Miss Clarke, it was merely a jest. A simple play on words. And yet, truth be told, I fear that our brief time as partners in this three-legged race may be the only time I will ever enjoy being leg-shackled.”

  “Surely not,” she said. He could not have such a negative view of marriage. His parents and sister enjoyed happy marriages, from what she had observed.

  “I am pressed for time, you see,” he said, “due to a promise I gave my father upon my return from Spain. So I am bound to marry in haste, as the old saying goes, and, therefore, will most likely be repenting at leisure for a lifetime. Allow me.”

  He knelt beside her, his foot parallel to hers. She carefully raised her skirt just enough for him to secure the rope around both their ankles before tying the knot. It felt an oddly intimate thing for him to be doing, at least to Amelia—even though everyone around them was doing the same thing.

  “We must work out our strategy of movement, Miss Clarke. Place your arm around me, and I shall do the same to you. Then, on the count of one, we will move our tied legs forward and on two our other legs. Shall we try it for a bit before the race begins?”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she slid her arm about his waist, precisely where it had been when they had been on horseback in the rain. It was exhilarating to hold him thus, having his arm around her as well. Except the words he had just spoken served to remind her that there was a gulf between them despite their physical proximity at the moment, and she realized she was frustrated by it all. “I am still angry at you, you know,” she blurted out.

  “One,” he said, but she wasn’t ready for it, so she stumbled as his foot moved without hers. “Sorry, I should have warned you,” he said, ignoring her comment. “Two.”

  She moved her opposing foot, and he repeated the numbers until they got into a rhythm of walking without them.

  “Excellent,” he said, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze. “We have got it now.”

  “You are trying to distract me,” she said. “But I will not be put off.”

  Anthony sighed. “I am sorry you are angry with me. I was not at my best last evening. I am afraid I became impatient with the Putnam girls’ rapt attention and Marwood’s puffing his opinions about. He expects me to make an announcement between Lady Elizabeth and myself any day now, and yet the Putnams were just as busy with their own strategizing. I felt like a prize goose. And they completely ignored Kit, who’s an earl in his own right, not to mention Phillip and Lucas. I merely hold a courtesy title.”

  “A courtesy title as heir to a marquess,” she pointed out. “A prize that would be a victory for any lady.”

  “Would it be a victory for you?” he asked. Amelia stopped walking abruptly, and it was Lord Halford who lo
st his footing this time. “Forgive me,” he said softly. “I have stumbled in more ways than one, I am afraid. It was wrong of me to put you on the spot like that. It was precisely what I did last night. I keep finding myself doing and saying things when you are about that I would never . . . And yet—”

  The call came for their race to begin.

  “We will speak of this later,” he said. “I owe you a full apology when there are not so many listening ears around.”

  She did not know how to respond.

  “Come, they are about to begin,” he said, urging her forward.

  They lined up with the other participants and awaited the firing of the starting pistol. Amelia spotted Lord Cantwell and Lady Elizabeth not far from them. Lady Elizabeth had actually agreed to participate, and Amelia couldn’t help but like her better for it. She was sure the duke and duchess wouldn’t approve if they were to see her.

  The pistol sounded then, and Lord Halford tightened his arm around her shoulders. “One,” he said, and they stepped rightly together. “Two.”

  They proceeded smoothly while others got off to a rocky start. A few couples fell, petticoat ruffles blossoming like the daisies growing throughout the park, before they righted themselves and continued onward.

  Amelia became consumed with listening to Lord Halford’s number cadence and words of encouragement. Before she knew it, the finish line was in sight, their only remaining competition the blacksmith and his wife right behind them and Lord Cantwell and Lady Elizabeth, who were slightly in the lead.

  And then, as they neared the finish line, the crowd cheering their support from the sidelines, Lord Halford managed to stumble into Lord Cantwell and send him and Lady Elizabeth careening to the ground, putting Amelia and Lord Halford in front.

  The finish line was only a few feet away now. They had managed to regain their rhythm after crashing into Lord Cantwell, and they were assured the victory until Lord Halford tripped over his own feet and he and Amelia tumbled head over heels, Lord Halford gracefully twisting so he landed beneath her and cushioned her fall.

  Too gracefully, Amelia realized.

  The blacksmith and his wife staggered over the finish line to the wild cries of the crowd. The blacksmith, a burly man with a bright red beard, tugged their rope off and picked up his small, round wife and kissed her soundly as he twirled her about.

  Lord Cantwell and Lady Elizabeth finished in second place, with Amelia and Lord Halford coming in close behind them for third.

  “Dash it all, Tony!” Lord Cantwell said, laughing as they untied their ankles. “What was that all about?”

  Lady Elizabeth, standing next to him, was flushed, and her hair was coming out of its pins. Amelia thought she looked disheveled . . . and happy.

  Lord Halford didn’t respond to Lord Cantwell’s question. Instead, he hauled Amelia with him to congratulate the blacksmith.

  “Well done, Perkins,” he said, shaking the man’s hand vigorously. “Mrs. Perkins.” He made a polite bow to the blacksmith’s wife. “An excellent win today.”

  “We cannot believe our good fortune, my lord,” Perkins said, grinning widely. “The missus will know what to do with them coins, you can be sure.”

  “I imagine she will.” Lord Halford gave Mrs. Perkins a wink. “She is a clever one, to be sure.”

  “Aye, that she is.”

  “Thank ye, me lord,” Mrs. Perkins said, red-faced and beaming, before she and Perkins were overtaken by their children and several of the villagers who rushed over to celebrate with them.

  Lord Halford only chuckled.

  “You bounder. I see what you are about,” Lord Cantwell said, grinning. “Well played, Tony. You put the winner’s purse into the hands of someone who could use it.”

  They received their prize ribbons to much applause, and Lord Cantwell and Lord Halford left to join the cricket match. Amelia lightly traced the third-place ribbon now pinned to her bodice with her fingers. She had a small box in her room for her treasures—her father’s pocket watch, her mother’s brooch—and she would put the ribbon with them later for safekeeping, a frivolous keepsake from a special day.

  She turned to excuse herself from Lady Elizabeth, who was standing beside her, since Amelia was scheduled to play games with the tinier children for a while. Although, come to think of it, Lord Cantwell had gotten her to participate in a rather rambunctious three-legged race. Perhaps Lady Elizabeth liked to do such things when her father didn’t have his watchful eye on her. “Lady Elizabeth,” Amelia said. “I wondered . . .”

  “Yes?” Lady Elizabeth asked. She’d repinned her hair, and her polished demeanor was back in place. She might have seemed intimidating but for an errant curl she kept pushing behind her ear and the smudge of dirt on her chin.

  “I have volunteered to play games with the children next, and I thought perhaps you would care to join me.”

  Lady Elizabeth’s face brightened. “I can think of nothing I would enjoy more. Thank you, Miss Clarke.”

  Amelia smiled and linked her arm with Lady Elizabeth’s. “Call me Amelia,” she said. “And let us go, then.”

  Chapter 7

  Anthony had expected a day being welcomed by the entire village to be taxing, but with all the hearty greetings and hand kissing and baby jostling, he was feeling even more drained than he’d thought and was verging on irritability now that it was midafternoon. The wound in his side, though healed, was aching and only added to the pressure he felt.

  It also didn’t help that he had not slept much the night before. It had felt like a night on the eve of battle.

  He was glad to see everyone, friends and neighbors alike, but he was not in a frame of mind to do the job required of the heir to the manor. And the Putnam sisters had especially taxed him, showing up wherever he had gone, doing everything in their power to insinuate themselves into his activities and conversations. Kit had been his saving grace, being willing to judge the pies and cakes for him. What should have been a simple task had been one too many for Anthony today. He was not even sure which team had won the cricket match; he had become fully disconnected from what was going on around him by then.

  His only moment of respite during the entire day had come when he had impulsively asked Miss Clarke to partner with him in the three-legged race. He had seen the Putnams advancing and had quickly employed a counteroffensive.

  He enjoyed Miss Clarke’s company, and as a man, he had to admit it had been extremely enjoyable having her pressed against his side again. She seemed to soothe and excite him at the same time.

  She was attracted to him too; he could tell.

  He needed to find an opportunity to offer her a full apology for his careless, impulsive behavior at dinner the night before. He had made her uncomfortable, and for that he must make amends, especially since the duke had reacted so strongly to her comments. After he apologized, he would find a way to keep distance between them, especially as he must soon leave for London to fulfill his promise to his father.

  The thought dropped his mood even further.

  “Ho, Lord Halford, sir, I have been sent to summon you to the men’s tug-of-war.” One of the new stable hands—Anthony didn’t know his name—rushed up to him. “They are waiting on you.”

  “Tell them I am on my way.” He needed a few minutes more to collect himself before once again facing the crowds and noise and expectations.

  They were holding the tug-of-war next to the lake, on a shore not far from the pier where the rowboats were located. A small wooded area lay next to it. It was a lovely spot to visit, shady and quiet, similar to the one where Anthony had discovered Miss Clarke reading on his first day home, but this one was at the opposite end of the lake. Anthony and Alex had taught themselves to swim here.

  It was the last large event before people would leave to prepare for the evening festivities. The villagers were having a fea
st and bonfire on the village green outside The Green Man since they had children to put to bed and work early the next day. The other guests would attend the ball and supper inside the manor later that evening. Anthony was not looking forward to it.

  By the time he arrived at the lake, a large group of people had gathered, and the men had already chosen sides and were ready to begin.

  “Pick a side, yer lordship,” Perkins called. “I mean to outplay you twice today!”

  There were guffaws and cries of indignation, and the man standing behind Perkins cuffed his head, nearly resulting in a good-natured fight.

  Anthony shed his coat and waistcoat and tossed them to the ground. Lucas and Phillip were on one side, with Kit on the other. Farleigh stood next to Louisa, bouncing Penny on his hip.

  “What, you are not joining in, but I must?” Anthony called to him.

  “My wife informs me that such antics are for the unattached gentlemen in the group, as it gives them the opportunity to flaunt their rugged manliness for the ladies. Since I am attached and may flaunt my manliness to her at will, I have no need to get muddy this afternoon.” He grinned. “I am heartbroken not to be participating.”

  His rationale hadn’t stopped Mr. Perkins. “I can see that you are,” Anthony said. He headed toward Kit and then stopped in his tracks.

  Mud.

  Anthony shuddered violently. Of course there was mud; he had known there would be. The ground was a wet, sloppy mess. The tug-of-war in the past had always been done this way. Anthony had hoped coming over here would relieve him of some of his ghosts, but seeing the filth . . .

  He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat and strode forcefully toward Kit, taking a place on the rope behind him. He barely had time to grip the rope before the starting gun fired.

  It was on. Anthony dug in, slipped, and dug in again, the rope twisting and rubbing against his palms. The man behind Anthony lost his footing and knocked Anthony’s feet out from under him. Anthony clung to the rope and struggled back to his feet. The pitch of the crowd rose higher and higher as Anthony’s teammates lost ground and regained it. A child shrieked—and Anthony’s memories came back in a rush: