by Tuft, Karen
“Yes, Captain,” he said, using Anthony’s former rank to make a point. “I was grateful to find somewhere in the city where you could be treated for your wounds, considering the number of casualties there were. Resources were greatly strained at the time. And I doubt you would have survived had I been obliged to remove you from the city.”
“And thus you see,” Anthony said, “I have returned from near death, owing to the grace of the Almighty, and am able to converse with you gentlemen on this lovely afternoon in Hyde Park.” He nodded to the group and turned to mount Bucephalus.
“Tony,” Hugh said, stopping Anthony and causing him to turn. “Well done, the both of you. I hope we can meet up one day soon.”
“Thank you, Hugh. Likewise.” He appreciated his friend attempting to make amends for what had been said, although Anthony was still seething.
He moved to Bucephalus’s side and was preparing to mount when he noticed a familiar person walking alone a short distance off, a maid and a footman trailing behind.
“Watch my horse,” he said to Lucas and hurried off toward the person in question.
“What are you doing here in the park by yourself?” he said to Amelia when he reached her side, his heart pounding in his throat.
She had been caught off-guard by his abrupt appearance and cast startled green eyes at him. “What do you mean by myself? Jane and Harold are with me.” She turned her head to look at them, and Anthony saw Jane give a small wave.
“I mean,” Anthony said, striving to control himself when he thought he might be violently sick at the moment, “without Lady Walmsley or me accompanying you. We are trying to introduce you to society gradually, and when you go off on your own like this, there is no way for us to prepare for the unexpected. This is London, not the country.”
“I do not believe I did anything wrong,” Amelia said. “I have a maid and a footman with me, as you can clearly see.”
He glanced at Jane and the burly youth dressed in livery who was presently scuffing his feet in the dirt and looking self-consciously about.
Anthony knew he was behaving irrationally, but at present all he could think about were cutthroats lurking on London side streets, unsavory characters easily spotting an innocent from the country, new to Town and its dangers. He refused to consider the fact that having Lady Walmsley with her would have done nothing to protect her from those unsavory types. “You are new to Town,” Anthony said, realizing his tone was a little too much like the one he had used on new enlistees, “and would be better served to have a more experienced escort with you until you have been here awhile.”
“I am a person who has reached her full majority,” Amelia said, matching his tone, “and I have been used to walking around Little Brenchley and Ashworthy unattended. Lady Walmsley wished to rest, and I needed fresh air. It is as simple as that, my lord.”
Ah. The fact that she had referred to him as “my lord” showed exactly how perturbed she was with him. Well, he was irritated with her and her . . . independence, especially considering she was in a large and strange city, where anything could happen.
“Walk with me, if you please,” he said.
He offered his arm to Amelia, which she reluctantly took, and then he escorted her toward a wooded area of the park not too far off at a pace a little too fast for fashion. Jane, he saw, was wringing her hands.
Amelia noticed too. “Jane,” she called, pointing. “There is a bench where you may rest yourself. Lord Halford wishes to show me something.” She turned back to Anthony. “The poor girl has no experience whatsoever on her own in Town either, and yet you are not overly concerned about her.”
“I am not betrothed to her!” Anthony exclaimed, then rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and lowered his voice. “You are quite correct. But the footman will watch over her, and Lucas is nearby. That is not the point, however.”
They entered the wooded area and were soon hidden from view.
“What is the point, then?” she cried. “I am able to care for myself, you know. I took care of my mother and then my father when they became ill, and I had no one to help me. And yet I survived and have even thrived.”
Her face was flushed, and her chest was heaving from her passionate response, and Anthony reached his limit. “This is the point.” He pulled her to him, encircling her waist with one hand, clutching the fabric at her back in a firm grip, and with his free hand, he yanked at the ribbon of her new frilly bonnet and tore it from her head. Then he crushed his mouth to hers.
She gasped, seeking air, but as soon as she filled her lungs, his mouth returned to hers, softening his kiss now, seeking to learn the contour of her lips. He threaded his fingers into her rich, auburn hair and held the back of her head so he could keep her close and direct the movement of his lips over hers.
Her hands sought his chest, a weak attempt to control the fire that had erupted between them. Her touch only made Anthony’s heart beat faster, however, and he fought his own battle to control the flames. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the rest of the world was not far away, that he had already compromised Amelia once, forcing a betrothal, but it was a struggle, especially when her hands crept to his shoulders and Anthony felt her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Drawing upon all the strength of character he could find, he took a deep breath and moved his hands to her shoulders, taking a step back before resting his forehead against hers and working to regain his composure. “That is the point, Amelia,” he whispered. “I desire you, and I am not the only man who would if given half a chance.”
He shook his head, realizing he was making a hash out of what he was trying to say, struggling to get his thundering heart under control. “You are wonderfully capable and independent, and you are right; you have flourished despite the circumstances life has given you. In that regard, you are different from every debutante who will grace the ballrooms of the ton this Season. It is what will draw people, men in particular, to you.” He retrieved her bonnet, which had fallen to the ground, and ran the ribbons through his fingers. “I am afraid I am not altogether rational at present when it comes to men’s attentions to the gentler sex.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “I am not quite the sheltered miss you think I am,” she said. “Little Brenchley may not be London, but the daughter of a vicar is privy to more of the struggles of life than you might think. You needn’t worry so.”
“And yet I do worry. I feel responsible.”
She dropped her hands and moved back, and Anthony wanted to draw her into his arms again. It was too late, though, if the resigned, determined look he saw on her face was any indication.
“It seems to me,” she said, “that perhaps too many responsibilities were thrust on you too quickly since you arrived home. I can help you with that.”
Anthony’s stomach knotted, knowing what her next words would be. She clasped her hands firmly together in front of her. “I am a nobody from nowhere—”
“Not true,” he interrupted. “Your father was the son of a viscount. Winfield, to be precise.”
Her face blanched at his announcement, and he regretted his impulsive words. This was not the time or place to tell her he had looked into her family connections, but it was too late now. He was seven times a fool.
“I am nobody from nowhere,” she repeated firmly. “No one will notice me, nor will I be missed when I am gone. And you,” her voice cracked on the word, “do not need to feel responsible, at least in regard to me. I would not do that to you. Therefore, I absolve you of your responsibility and of the betrothal you offered when circumstances seemed to require it. Thank you for your concern over my welfare. And now please excuse me; it is time for me to return to Lady Walmsley, lest she worry as well. Good day.”
She turned on her heel and strode, back straight, toward Jane, who quickly gathered her things and trotted after her
. Anthony watched until he could no longer see Amelia in the crowd of people before returning to claim Bucephalus from the footman.
“Don’t ask, if you know what’s good for you,” he said to Lucas, who stood by with an inquiring look on his face.
She was strong and brave; she was his Amelia. But if she thought she was no longer betrothed to him, she was mistaken, and he would set her straight soon enough. The scandal was too recent for them to be out of trouble yet, and he refused to leave her on her own until he could be sure her reputation was sound.
He could still feel the warmth of her hands on his face.
* * *
Amelia was still upset when she reached Lady Walmsley’s house. How could he kiss her like that, with so much passion, and then claim he worried about her because he felt responsible?
She hurried up to her room before she broke down in tears right there in the front hall. Responsible. That had been what hurt the most. The kisses were merely the product of a man’s attraction to a woman, that was all. He had said other men would be attracted as well and he must protect her from their worldly, pleasure-seeking pursuits. Because he was responsible.
She had thought his kisses meant something more. She had been wrong.
She didn’t even want to think about the other thing he had said, that her grandfather was a viscount. Winfield, Anthony had called him. Oh yes, although her heart had been breaking, she had heard the name and remembered it.
Tears threatening again, she brushed her hand across her eyes, refusing to give in to the raw emotions she was feeling, before sitting down at her dressing table.
She opened the side drawer and removed one of the two boxes there. The box that remained in the drawer held her mother’s brooch, now repaired and ready to be worn, along with her father’s watch and the third-place ribbon.
She opened the lid on the box she held in her hand. Inside was the watch fob she had purchased for Anthony. She had chosen it with gratitude, true, but also with affection—no, with love. She loved him.
She had known better, so the way she felt now was her own fault. She had never aspired to be anything other than who she was, but the handsome, troubled Earl of Halford had touched her heart from the very first. Despite her best efforts, she had fallen for him. And she had thought he’d at least cared for her too, which was why she still had difficulty believing the intensity of his kisses resulted from an indifferent attraction and a sense of responsibility.
She removed the fob from the box and ran a finger over the engraved initial A before returning it to the box and putting it back in the drawer. Since it was engraved, she doubted the jeweler would be willing to take it back, but Amelia did not think she could bear to keep it.
Perhaps she would leave it with Lady Ashworth when she left Ashworth Park and her employment, after she returned there to retrieve her personal belongings. The marchioness could give it to her husband or her son, whomever she wished.
Amelia would not care.
At least that was what she told herself as she curled up on her bed and willed herself to sleep.
* * *
It was dusk when Amelia awoke. Her eyes felt gritty, and her heart ached. Lady Walmsley would be wondering what had happened to her.
She rose from her bed and splashed cool water on her face before inspecting her appearance in the mirror at her dressing table. Her eyes were puffy, but there was nothing she could do about that. She changed for dinner and tidied her hair. When Amelia decided she looked as good as she was going to, she descended the stairs in search of Lady Walmsley.
“There you are, dear,” the lady said when Amelia entered the parlor the butler had indicated. “You must have been dreadfully tired! And that is exactly what I told Lord Halford when he showed up on my doorstep earlier. ‘She is sleeping,’ said I, ‘and I would not awaken her if you were the Prince Regent himself.’ But you do not seem well, Amelia, even after your long rest.” She patted the cushion next to her on the sofa. “Are you ill? Shall I send for the doctor?”
“I am not ill,” Amelia said, smiling to reassure her, although it was a meager attempt at best. “But I am afraid I do have bad news. Lord Halford and I—”
“Say no more,” Lady Walmsley said. “I know all about it. Halford explained that the two of you had a disagreement and he wished to make amends to his betrothed.”
“But that is exactly it. I am not—”
“Tut, tut, my dear,” Lady Walmsley said, taking Amelia’s hand in her two wrinkly ones and patting it gently. “Every betrothed couple has their little disagreements. It prepares them for the big ones once they marry.”
“He is not my betrothed,” Amelia said gently but firmly. “We disagreed, yes, but the nature of the disagreement made it clear that we cannot marry.” The pain she felt saying the words aloud was a horrible, oppressive weight. She had expected to feel relief at freeing him from the betrothal.
Lady Walmsley looked at her sorrowfully. “I refuse to believe it. Anyone looking at either of you would know it to be a love match. Surely this little misunderstanding will pass and all will be well tomorrow.”
Amelia shook her head. “I think not, Lady Walmsley. He would marry me out of a sense of responsibility, and he has too many of those already. I cannot hold him to the betrothal. It is his duty to find the most suitable match for the heir to the Marquess of Ashworth. The daughter of a vicar is not that person.” She did not mention what Anthony had told her earlier, that her father had been the son of a viscount and that she was, therefore, a viscount’s granddaughter. She had never had a relationship with the man, and she was not about to start one now, not when her father had died with Amelia as the only family at his side. “In fact, I had better write to Lady Ashworth tomorrow informing her of my resignation. It would be unfair to all of us if I were to remain.” She had not entirely worked out the details of where she would go. “Perhaps you would be willing to give me another reference?”
“I will do better than that, my dear. You shall stay with me.” Lady Walmsley said this with an emphatic nod of her head. “Lady Ashworth will be saddened by the news though. I know she has grown terribly fond of you.”
“And I of her,” Amelia said. “Perhaps she would be kind enough to have my things packed and sent to me here. Thank you, my lady. I appreciate your invitation, and I will take you up on it in the short term, but I am determined to look for permanent employment outside of London.” Anthony would be obliged to spend part of each year in London establishing himself with others of the peerage for the time when Lord Ashworth died and Anthony assumed the title of marquess. For her own sake, Amelia would search for employment somewhere in the country so she could avoid all contact with him. And perhaps, in time, she would forget about him—and that she loved him.
“There is no hurry, you know,” Lady Walmsley said. “I enjoy your company exceedingly. I have not felt this young in years.”
“You are a dear,” Amelia said, leaning over to press a kiss on the lady’s cheek. “I am very fond of you too.”
She went up to her bedchamber and wrote the letter, carefully choosing her words so the marchioness would know of Amelia’s affection for her despite her resignation. Then she sealed it and took it downstairs so it could be posted first thing in the morning.
She would miss Lady Ashworth dreadfully.
She would miss Anthony even more.
Chapter 14
The day after Anthony’s encounter with Amelia in the park, he returned to Lady Walmsley’s house only to be told, “Miss Clarke is indisposed.” He understood this, he supposed, all things considered.
On the second day when Anthony called at Lady Walmsley’s house, the butler apologetically told him the ladies were not at home to callers.
On the third day when he was given the same information, Anthony grew suspicious.
By the fourth day, he was more than a littl
e determined.
He rapped on Lady Walmsley’s door and, when the butler opened it, pushed past him into the front hall. “Please inform the ladies,” he said in his best captain’s voice, “that I am not leaving until I have spoken to Miss Clarke.”
Lady Walmsley opened the door to the sitting room, where she could not have missed overhearing his comments, and crossed the front hall to greet him. “Lord Halford, how lovely to see you.”
He shot her an ironic look, considering it would have been she who had instructed the butler. Holding her gaze, he said, “I would appreciate it if you would inform Amelia that I am here.”
“She does not wish to see you,” Lady Walmsley said. “I have given her my word in that regard, unfortunate as I think the circumstances are.”
“Thank you for that, at least,” Anthony replied. “However, I am not leaving until she and I have discussed the matter further, even if it means camping on your doorstep. I had to endure much worse in Spain, lest either of you think it an idle threat.”
He heard a gasp.
Turning in the direction of the sound, he saw her at the top of the stairs, a hand pressed to her bosom. She started down the stairs, her eyes fixed on his, and he fought to hold back a smile, keeping his expression as fiercely determined as hers was.
“Lord Halford,” she said as she neared the bottom. “What a surprise to see you here. I had thought we’d discussed our current situation to its conclusion at Hyde Park the other day.”
“Not a surprise at all, I should wager. And we have not discussed our situation nearly enough, my dear. Please excuse us, Lady Walmsley,” he said as he guided Amelia toward the sitting room Lady Walmsley had just vacated. “Miss Clarke and I have something we need to discuss.”
“And about time too,” Lady Walmsley said with a cackle. “The girl has been in such a depressed state since your encounter at the park, I have practically had to stand on my head to get a smile out of her.”