by Tuft, Karen
He removed the box from his pocket. “Would you care to open it now?” he asked, suddenly concerned the gift was not as impressive as it should have been.
“Yes, please.” She took the box from his hands and opened it. “Oh,” she breathed. “How beautiful! Thank you.”
Lady Walmsley trotted back over to see what he had given Amelia. “Pearls!” she said, sounding put out. “You got her pearls? They will not impress anybody. Diamonds. Now, that would make a statement. Rubies, even, or emeralds. Honestly—”
“They are perfect,” Amelia interjected. “I love them. Will you help me put them on?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Anthony said.
Amelia turned to face the hallway mirror and took the necklace from the box. Anthony removed his gloves and turned to stand behind her. The necklace he had purchased was a single strand of pearls with a teardrop pendant and had matching ear bobs. He had wanted to give her something simple and exquisite, and when he had seen the pearls, he had thought them ideally suited for her. He slipped the necklace around her throat and fastened the clasp, his hands itching to stroke the tender skin at her nape.
She fastened the ear bobs in place and then turned to face him, her eyes luminous now. “I have never had such a lovely gift,” she murmured.
“I will be the most envied man at the theater this evening,” Anthony replied truthfully.
“But only if we actually arrive at the theater,” Lady Walmsley said. “Our wraps, young man, if you please.”
“Yes, my lady,” Anthony said. Amelia bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and Anthony’s gazed lingered there.
“Ahem!” Lady Walmsley said, tapping her foot impatiently.
“I am busy at the moment, madam,” he said, keeping his eyes on Amelia and making her cheeks bloom a rosy pink.
The delicious moment passed, however, so Anthony helped each lady with her shawl and then assisted them into the carriage, taking the seat opposite.
It was time to escort his beautiful fiancée to her debut into London Society. And not for the first time, he found himself hoping they had done enough preparation to make a good showing this evening. He wanted Amelia to enjoy herself tonight.
But even if the evening went according to plan, he understood there were more battles to face before he could claim victory.
* * *
When the trio arrived at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden, they did not encounter any crowds arriving or milling about.
“Where is everyone?” Amelia asked.
“They are inside the theater already, enjoying the performance. We have arrived late,” Anthony said.
“But why are we late?” she asked him. “We are missing part of the play. I should think that would make it difficult to understand the plot.”
“Because, my dear,” Lady Walmsley replied before Anthony could respond, “the point tonight is for people to see you, not for you to see the play.”
“Precisely,” Anthony said. “I am afraid we are the actors most of the theatergoers will recall from tonight. And I would rather they see you from a distance first rather than have you face a crush as we make our way through the lobby. Shall we?”
He offered his arms to both ladies and led them through the elegant foyer, up the grand staircase, and down the hallway to the box held exclusively for the Marquess of Ashworth. The moment they were seated, Amelia felt hundreds of eyes turn in their direction. Across the theater, Amelia could see the Duchess of Marwood and Lady Elizabeth seated in a box, along with some others, though she could not see the duke, thank goodness.
She had difficulty concentrating on the performance, despite her best efforts. She felt too self-conscious, too aware that she was on deliberate display, to fully relax. Her eyes constantly wandered over the audience, trying to read the expressions of the people she saw who continually glanced in their direction.
Before she realized it, the first act had ended, and it was intermission. Anthony rose. “Would you ladies care to walk?” he asked.
“Not me,” Lady Walmsley said. “My legs have decided they are content where they are. If any of my friends wish to greet me, they may do so here.”
“Amelia?” he asked.
She must face the beau monde sooner or later, so she stood. “I suppose my reputation will not be helped if I cower here.”
He smiled at her, obviously pleased by her answer. “We shall face the dragons together, then.”
They had no sooner left the box when Lord Cantwell and some of his friends greeted them. “Tony!” the earl said, shaking Anthony’s hand vigorously. “I have already told these gentleman you are betrothed to the lovely lady they spotted in your box with you. Miss Clarke, how exquisite you look this evening.” He bowed over her hand before introducing his friends to her.
“Unfair, Halford, for you to snatch up such a charming creature before she could be presented to any of us,” one of the gentlemen, who gazed at Amelia through his quizzing glass, drawled.
“My thoughts exactly,” another gentleman said. “Charming, indeed.”
Amelia had never flirted before; it would have been unseemly as a vicar’s daughter and as a companion, but she had learned to deal diplomatically with a few of the more ardent men of Little Brenchley. “Such flattery, gentlemen, and in front of Lord Halford, no less,” she said. “I wonder that you esteem your lives so lightly.”
The men laughed in response and then began asking Anthony about his return from Spain, so Amelia allowed herself to relax. It seemed Anthony’s friends were here in support and not in judgment.
As they bid farewell to the gentlemen and began to return to their box, however, the Duchess of Marwood walked down the hallway toward them with several other ladies. Amelia braced herself for a confrontation, but instead, the Duchess paused briefly, looked directly into Amelia’s eyes, and then turned away from her, the other ladies following suit.
She had been given the cut direct, and because it had been by a duchess, it was damage that would be difficult to overcome.
She felt Anthony’s arm tense beneath her hand. “Come,” he whispered. “Do not trouble yourself over the Duchess of Marwood, my dear, or her friends. They are only a few of many, and our efforts are only beginning.”
She returned with him to their box, where they found Lady Walmsley chatting with Lady Elizabeth, who stood as soon as they arrived.
“I heard,” Lady Walmsley said in an ominous tone. “Lady Elizabeth has told me what happened.”
“I am sorry, Amelia,” Lady Elizabeth said, looking breathtakingly lovely in pale-blue satin. “I cannot seem to make my parents see reason.”
“It was not your doing,” Amelia said.
“They hold much influence,” Lady Walmsley said, “but are not invincible.”
“I must go now,” Lady Elizabeth said. “Mama will be looking for me. I only wanted to offer what little support I can.”
Amelia took her hands in her own. “I do not blame you. I consider us friends.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled at her and then was gone.
Amelia sat through the second act, wondering if all their efforts would be worth it. Lord and Lady Ashworth—oh, and Anthony too—had been adamant that they must remain betrothed long enough to protect Amelia from harm and, she was certain, ensure that Anthony was regarded as a nobleman of the highest character.
And at the end of their betrothal? What then? What would she do? The truth was she did not know. She would not be able to return to Lady Ashworth’s employ. She could not bear to see Anthony with a wife and children while she herself sat silently in the corner, longing for what might have been.
And yet for at least two months she must be betrothed to him. Two precious months. She would simply cherish every moment they shared and store the memories against a lifetime of loneliness.
Chapter 12
The following morning, Amelia and Lady Walmsley, with Jane and a footman in tow, proceeded to Oxford Street. Amelia had reservations about the money being spent on a wardrobe for her when she would inevitably be a paid companion once again, but Lady Walmsley hadn’t tolerated her protests.
“Foolishness,” the lady had said. “Trust me when I tell you the money that will be spent is a mere pittance when compared to the income of the Ashworths. Do not let Halford’s time in the army lead you to conclude he is not wealthy in his own right.”
And so here they were at Madame Veronique’s, the madame herself clucking and fretting over Amelia, who stood on a small platform in one of the dressing rooms, wearing only her chemise as one of the seamstresses measured her, while Jane looked on in wonder.
Lady Walmsley had settled herself into a comfortable-looking chair in the front of the shop, and when Amelia had left her, the lady had been sipping contentedly from a cup of tea and reviewing fashion plates.
When Madame was certainement that the seamstress had every measurement correct, Amelia was allowed to dress and return to Lady Walmsley. Anthony had arrived while she was being measured and was studying the plates along with Lady Walmsley. Amelia hadn’t expected him this morning, and seeing him here set her heart racing nervously.
He rose when he saw her and crossed the room to kiss her hand.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“If I have an opportunity to help choose the wardrobe for my future wife, do you think I would forgo such a pleasure?” he said.
“Yes, quite frankly, I do,” she replied.
His mouth twitched upward.
“Ah, mademoiselle, but no,” Madame Veronique said. “Many a gentlemen, they wish to see their—how you say?—sweetheart looking so beautiful for their eyes. Ees true.”
“Ees true,” Anthony echoed, subtly using Madame’s accent.
Amelia rolled her eyes. Madame was about as French as Amelia was.
Madame Veronique did not seem to notice Anthony’s comment. Of course, considering the amount of money he would be spending here today, Amelia was not at all surprised.
They spent the next hour deciding on dress styles and fabrics—Anthony insisting on a deep green velvet for one of her ball gowns—before deciding they were through and it was time to visit the next shop.
“Madame,” Anthony said. “You have been all that is helpful today. I would ask one more favor of you, however.”
“But of course,” the modiste replied, her eyelids fluttering like twin butterflies. “Anything you say, monsieur. I am only so happy to do it.”
“My fiancée is in need of some gowns rather quickly. Is there anything you can do—”
Madame Veronique held up her hand. “Say no more, monsieur. Claire, Marie!” she called, and two seamstresses came running from the back room. “Mrs. Hardwicke’s new gown, the blue one. And the peach-colored muslin as well.”
“Yes, Madame,” the girls said, scurrying off again.
“It will be no problem,” Madame said, waving off Amelia’s attempt to protest. “The blue looks terrible on her, but I could not convince her otherwise. I will find something she will love, and she will not remember the blue. The peach will be ready later this afternoon, the gold tomorrow. The rest of mademoiselle’s clothes will be ready next week. Will that do?”
“Yes, thank you, it will.”
“Anything for you, monsieur, the great hero who defied death.”
A muscle twitched in Anthony’s cheek at the modiste’s words.
“Quite,” he said. He turned to Amelia. “Are you ready, my dear? Lady Walmsley?”
Both ladies recognized their cue. Anthony offered Madame Veronique a proper bow, and they left the premises.
Despite his efforts to appear otherwise, Amelia knew Anthony still suffered from his experiences in Spain. If she could do nothing else, she would help him heal before she released him from their betrothal.
* * *
Anthony excused himself from the ladies once they left Madame Veronique’s shop. “I have business to attend to that requires I leave you both briefly,” he said, “but I shall join you at Gunter’s later for tea—and for ices, if you are inclined to try one, Amelia.”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. She had heard of Gunter’s famous ices, and so she was more than inclined—she was thrilled.
Lady Walmsley, despite her years, was a lively companion who seemed to take delight in showing Amelia all the finery available for purchase in London. She also seemed to think that Amelia needed it all. Amelia quickly found herself the owner of new bonnets, a variety of gloves, and stockings—both silk and practical cotton ones—as well as undergarments made of the most delicate lawn Amelia had ever touched.
They had only to shop for slippers and halfboots, and Lady Walmsley hadn’t so much as yawned. Amelia, on the other hand, was beginning to wilt. “Perhaps,” she ventured, “we can shop for slippers tomorrow.”
“No such thing,” Lady Walmsley said. “I am home for visitors tomorrow. You must be there too since you will be the main attraction.”
Amelia sighed. Gunter’s ices could not come too soon for her.
After purchasing the footwear Lady Walmsley insisted Amelia have, they sent poor Jane and the footman home in the carriage, with Amelia’s many parcels stowed within.
When they were nearly to Gunter’s, Amelia noticed a jeweler’s shop. “Lady Walmsley,” she said. “I have one more stop I would like to make. Perhaps I can meet you at Gunter’s afterward, if you do not mind.” She wanted to buy a gift for Anthony and preferred that it be kept between her and Anthony only.
“I believe my feet could use a rest,” she said, her eyes twinkling. She had noticed the jeweler’s as well and had undoubtedly figured out Amelia’s intentions. “I shall wait at Gunter’s for you, then.”
Relieved to get her way with Lady Walmsley so easily for once, Amelia hurried to the shop, a place called Phillips.
“Good day,” the jeweler said, looking up from the piece he was working on. “How may I assist you?”
“I would like to buy a gift for a gentleman,” she said. “My fiancé, to be precise,” she added when the man, whom she presumed was Mr. Phillips, looked askance at her.
“Ah,” he said, seemingly unconvinced.
Begin as you mean to go. She stood straight and raised her chin slightly, in order to look as dignified as possible. “The gentleman in question deserves something very fine, and yet I have limited funds and must rely upon you for guidance.”
He studied her carefully over his spectacles and must have finally approved of what he saw, for he nodded and gestured to a glass case at the end of the counter. “Perhaps a watch fob would suit his tastes.”
“Thank you.” Amelia moved to the end of the counter and studied the items in the case. There was one fob in particular she was drawn to, made of carved gold and inset with a smooth, oval stone of rich blue. “How much is that one?” she asked, pointing to it.
“Ah, the lapis. A very nice choice.” He told her the price, and she blanched. She had obviously entered a world in which she had no concept of expense, especially since Anthony had insisted that the bills for her wardrobe be sent directly to him. Lady Walmsley had simply waved her hand as if shooing the idea of cost away when Amelia had questioned her about it.
“Perhaps not,” she said, suddenly feeling discouraged. “In the meantime, I wonder if you can help me with another matter. I have a brooch with a broken clasp and would dearly love to have it fixed.” She opened her reticule and drew the brooch out, setting it carefully on the counter.
The man gasped. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
His reaction was strange, Amelia thought. “It belonged to my mother,” she said.
“And who was she?” he asked. “This work is highly unusual.” He picked up the magnifyi
ng glass from his worktable behind him and studied the brooch intently.
“She was the wife of a vicar,” Amelia replied. The words sounded demeaning to her mother, who was much more than that in Amelia’s eyes. “I imagine it was a gift from my father.”
“From a vicar?” The jeweler shook his head. “Not likely. And, yes, I can fix the clasp.” He picked up the brooch as though it were a religious relic. “It would be my honor to do so.”
He obviously saw something unusual about the piece, but Amelia could not imagine what, even with all the sentiment she attached to it.
“I think we can come to an arrangement regarding the fob too, Miss . . .”
“Clarke,” she replied, thoroughly confused now. “And thank you.” She handed over the banknotes she had brought with her, barely half the amount the man had quoted to her for the fob.
“Paid in full,” he said as he put the money in his cashbox and then removed the watch fob from the case. “The brooch will be ready for you tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “May I have it delivered to your place of residence?”
“I am a guest of Lady Walmsley,” she said.
“Very good. I shall have both items delivered tomorrow, if that pleases you. Would you care to have the fob engraved with a monogram?”
“Oh, I couldn’t, surely,” she said, surprised by his offer. She was already paying half the price for it.
“It would be my pleasure,” the jeweler said. “A single initial, perhaps?”
He seemed earnest, so Amelia thought through the options. She could have an H engraved, for Hargreaves or Halford, but Anthony was to be Ashworth one day, and it was the initial for his Christian name as well. “Perhaps an A, then. And thank you again.”
“It has been my pleasure, ma’am,” he said.
Amelia exited the shop and walked toward Gunter’s, surprised by her good fortune and hopeful that Anthony would be pleased by her gift.
* * *
By the end of the week, Anthony was ready to quit London and return to Ashworth Park. Not that every minute in Town had been unpleasant. He had relished seeing Amelia in her new gowns and showing her the sights. But his regular bachelor haunts were just that: haunts.