He was also right about him being distracted. He’d been like this since yesterday.
Since that damned kiss.
Except he didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t a damned kiss in the typical manner. It had not ruined Amelia or forced his hand. No, the damned bit came from the fact it had thrown him. It had changed everything he knew.
It was Lavinia he had loved, was it not? How could he transfer his feelings onto her sister so easily? And yet, those feelings did not feel strange. The moment he’d held Amelia after they’d escaped the river, it had felt incredibly right.
And now, he could not quite fathom the love for Lavinia that he had considered a part of him. True, he no longer loved her but he had considered it would always linger—the memory of it. But when he thought back, he could no longer picture it. He could not see how he had spent hours watching the fair-haired lady whirl around the ballroom. Not when there was a bright-eyed, freckled red-headed Amelia to watch, with her long, elegant figure and that wild look in her eyes that he must have missed so many times.
“My lord?”
Nicholas looked up to find Morris staring at him with an odd look upon his face. “Yes, Green?”
“You are doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“You are distracted.”
Nicholas waved a hand. “So what if I am? Have you not got something useful to do?”
“I only came in to inform you that dinner is ready. The dinner gong rang some half an hour ago.”
Nicholas’ gaze shot to the clock. Morris was right. He had not heard the dinner gong nor had he realized it was half an hour past dinnertime.
“I was simply enjoying a brandy,” he lied. “I shall come through in a moment.”
Morris dipped his head and picked up empty brandy bottle. “I shall see that this is refilled, my lord.” He arched an eyebrow pointedly.
Nicholas enjoyed a brandy as much as the next man but he did not usually indulge so much. He must have had a good three glasses this evening.
“Thank you, Morris.” The butler rocked on his heels and failed to move. Nicholas huffed out a breath. “What is it?”
“Oh nothing, my lord.” The butler’s large neck worked against his cravat. “It is only...your lady visitors yesterday seem to have...well, caused this distraction.”
“Am I not allowed to be distracted? Does it have to be caused by women?”
“Yes, usually it does, my lord.”
Nicholas stood. “Well, you need not fear. There is nothing wrong. I am not turning into an alcoholic or a lovelorn man. Now stop fussing like an old woman and find yourself something useful to do.”
Morris’ lips pressed tightly into a line of annoyance. “I am always useful, my lord. I merely mean to point out—”
“Of course you are. Now if you excuse me, I find I am quite hungry.”
Striding past the butler, Nicholas took the long way to the dining room. He didn’t mean to insult the old man but sometimes he was worse than a nanny. Morris could do with worrying about himself for a change. He was a fine one to talk about being distracted. He’d been in love with Mrs. Crawford, the widowed farmer’s wife, for years. Fancy trying to lecture him about women. Ridiculous.
He paused in the long gallery. He could not quite face eating in the dining room. With his mother away and no guests at present, it was a quiet and tiresome thing to eat alone with one’s servants watching over one. If Morris had detected his distraction then no doubt had the rest of the servants.
He paused at the portrait of his mother and father. It had been painted only a year before his father had passed away. Despite the formal postures, one could never deny that they were thoroughly in love. It had been their love for one another that had inspired him to look for a relationship like that once he had inherited. Lavinia, it had seemed, would make a perfect viscountess.
He didn’t think he was wrong. She still would. Sweet, kind, classically beautiful, and able to hold conversation with anyone, it was as though she was designed to fill such a role.
But had he really wanted easy conversation and sweet manners?
Moving on from the painting, he sighed. Not any more it seemed. How had he been so blind? How had he not realized there was so much more to Amelia than met the eye?
She played a role, just as he did when he had to perform lordly duties. She was the oldest sister, charged with keeping the other sisters in line. Quite the challenge. The Chadwick girls were all known to be too clever, too noisy, and quite terrible at being in polite society.
He grinned to himself. It was what he liked about them. It was what he liked about Amelia. Underneath that sensible facade was a woman who thrived on excitement and fun. He just knew it.
They were one and the same, and if he thought hard, he’d always known that.
Forcing himself to stroll through the house to the dining room, he paused at the sound of footsteps. If that was Morris coming to nag him, he was going to do something childish and hide. A figure darted past the hallway door and he frowned. It looked like a lad in scruffy clothing, but what was one of the kitchen boys doing up here?
He pressed himself against the wall. The dim oil lamps set on the tables lining the hallway cast enough shadow to keep Nicholas hidden. The boy glanced this way and that then ducked into the study.
Nicholas edged along the hallway and peered around the corner.
“Oh, where are they?”
His frown deepened. That did not sound like a boy. In fact, the intruder did not look like a boy either. The slight curves that rounded the trousers indicated that this was, in fact, a woman. Why had a woman dressed herself up as a boy to sneak into his house? And what was she looking for in his study? If this was a mere thief, there were plenty of riches to be had in the easy-to-access rooms.
“Ah.” The intruder snatched something up and turned. Nicholas pressed himself back into an alcove and waited for her to emerge.
She looked this way and that but did not see him before darting off down the hallway.
“Lad!”
She jolted and squeaked, glanced briefly around, and hastened off. Something dropped from her hand but she didn’t seem to notice in her haste. Nicholas did not bother giving chase. He didn’t need to. It had been no thief. He’d recognized the profile and the lock of red hair instantly.
Amelia Chadwick. But why had she been sneaking about his house? He bent to pick up what she’d dropped. It was one of those letters that he had neglected to read. He kept meaning to but there had been so many and he had yet to find the time.
Nicholas pulled the string binding it shut and read the letter.
Chapter Eight
“It’s not that bad.” Julia’s voice was muffled by the sheets over Amelia’s head. She had flung off her disguise and buried herself under the covers as soon as she’d come in and had not moved all night.
A corner of the sheet lifted and Amelia winced at the bright light. Julia poked her head underneath the cover. “At least you got the letters.”
“What if he recognized me? Oh goodness, how am I ever going to face him again?” Amelia wailed, pressing her face onto the pillow and snatching the sheet from Julia so she could hide herself away.
Initially, the whole sneaking into his house disguised as a delivery boy thing had been exciting. Slipping through the shadows and hiding from servants had brought a thrill she’d only felt...well...once when kissing Nicholas and once when escaping drowning.
She did not know whether to curse or thank those letters. At least she could go to her grave knowing what Nicholas’ lips tasted like.
But, still, if he had recognized her at all, she could never face him again.
“What’s going on?”
Amelia lifted the corner to see Catherine walk into the room. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, no doubt having been up half of the night watching the stars. “Did it work?” Catherine asked.
“Yes.” Julia nodded. “And she got the letters. But sh
e thinks he might have recognized her.”
“Oh lord,” Amelia wailed again. It was all too humiliating to think about. She buried herself back under the sheet. Her cheeks heated simply remembering it. What would he think of her?
“You made a good delivery boy,” Catherine said. The bed dipped beside Amelia and a hand patted her head through the sheet. She assumed it was Catherine. “I doubt he recognized you. And now you have the letters, so all is well. Unless of course you’re upset that you have no reason to go back.”
“Mmmph,” Amelia said against the pillow.
The sheet whipped off her suddenly, pulled away by Emma. Amelia rolled and glared at her before throwing an arm across her face. Sneaking in in disguise had been her sisters’ idea and they’d even helped her find some clothes and tuck up her hair in a cap. Why she had listened to them, she did not know. When had the three of them ever had a sensible idea between them?
Emma came around the other side of the bed and sat so that she was pinned between her and Catherine. She pressed away Amelia’s hair from her face and smiled. “Come on, Amelia. You got your letters and all is well. Get up and then you can hear my latest song. I wrote it myself.” The pride shining from her sister’s face made her wince. Emma’s singing had not improved in the last few days and she doubted her song-writing ability was any better.
Beside her, Catherine snorted. Amelia shot her a look. She might not appreciate Emma’s voice but she did not want her to be hurt.
Julia stood at the end of the bed, hands to her hips. “Emma is right.”
“Not about the singing, surely?” Catherine asked. “That’s not an incentive to get up.”
Emma scowled. “You do not appreciate fine music.” She glanced at the mantle clock. “Should you not be back in bed. I heard you creeping up the stairs at three in the morning. If you don’t nap, you will be grumpy.” She paused. “I think you already are.”
“Well, I was planning to remain in bed but you two were banging around in Amelia’s room and I could not sleep.” Catherine poked out her tongue.
“That’s enough.” Amelia sat and thrust out a hand in front of both of them. “I am up, see? Now will you all leave me to my humiliation.”
Emma’s expression softened. “Oh, Amelia, you’re not humiliated. You need to stop worrying so much about what everyone thinks of us. You are a talented writer and if people want to look down their nose at you because of what you write, that is their problem.”
“Exactly. Dry old sticks that they are,” Catherine agreed.
Amelia didn’t remind them that what she did reflected on all of them. But she supposed in some ways it was too late to save them, even with the letters back in her possession. They would be forever marked as unusual and far too clever. A sin indeed in the world of the ton.
“Amelia!” Their mother’s voice echoed up the stairs.
“Heavens, what is she doing awake already?” Julia muttered.
“Amelia,” came Mama’s voice again.
With a sigh, Amelia swung her legs over the bed and felt the cold touch of the floorboards again her feet. “I suppose I should go down.“
Julia flung a robe her way and Amelia stood and knotted it about her waist. She thrust a hand through her knotted hair, having not bothered to braid it when she’d returned home. “I had better see what she wants or we will not have a moment’s peace.”
“Then you can come and listen to my song,” said Emma brightly.
Catherine groaned. “I think I’m going to go back to bed.”
Julia nodded. “I’m going out for the morning.”
Her sister’s departed and the tinkle of the piano rang through the house moments later. Amelia found her mother in the breakfast room. What had once been fair hair was now almost white but was perfectly curled and tucked under a cap. A shawl hung about her shoulders. Despite her age and having raised five daughters, her mother was still an elegant woman and everyone knew she had been quite the beauty in her time. That her beauty had not been passed onto four of her daughters was something she constantly lamented.
Her mother’s brow arched when she saw her disheveled state. “Have you only just risen? Please do not tell me you are turning into another Catherine.”
Amelia sat opposite and poured a cup of coffee. “Of course not, Mama. I did not sleep well, that is all.”
“I did not catch you before you went to bed last night.” Her mother buttered a slice of toast and took a bite.
“I, um, wanted to get any early night.”
“And yet you did not sleep. Was something bothering you?”
She could hardly tell her mother she went to bed early to disguise herself as a boy then sneak out so she simply shrugged.
“Anyway,” her mother motioned at her with the toast, “I was visiting with Mrs. Elsworth...you remember her daughter. An ugly little thing. Married a lieutenant I think.” Mama frowned. “Or was it a colonel? No, it could not have been. She was far too plain for a colonel.”
“I think it was a colonel,” Amelia said softly.
Her mother’s frown deepened. “Surely not. No, it must have been a lieutenant.”
Amelia opted not to correct her mother. Miss Elsworth had definitely married a colonel even if her mother thought her plain.
“Anyway, do you remember that Harburgh House has been empty for some time?”
Amelia nodded. The house sat on a good twenty-five acres and had been empty since the gentleman who owned it had lost much of his fortune to gambling and could no longer afford to look after it. No tenants could be found so the rumor was he would have to sell it.
“Is there going to be new tenants?”
“Not, tenants. A new owner.” Her mother’s eyes glimmered with excitement. “And not just any owner. A duke.”
Inwardly, Amelia grimaced. Mama would not be considering the duke for any of them. She considered all her daughters too red and freckly and bluestockingy to be marriage material for a duke. But Mama would certainly not object to being connected to the duke. She would certainly encourage their father to make his acquaintance in the hopes they would be invited to whatever parties and balls the man held.
She smiled at the idea this poor duke had little idea what he was getting himself in for.
“So why did you need to talk to me about this duke, Mama?”
Amelia reached for the teapot and poured a cup of coffee. The fragrant bitterness teased her and she inhaled the scent deeply. After last night, she felt as though she needed to follow Catherine’s lead and take a nap but her mind was still racing after what she had done.
Her mother paused and cocked her head as Emma’s voice peeled through the house. “I should like to go to London next spring.”
“I thought you had decided not to for a while.”
Mama licked a spot of butter from her thumb. “Mrs. Jasper intends to go to town with her daughter. It will be Miss Jasper’s first season. I think we should go to and show some support.”
Miss Jasper was a sweet girl but not at all ready for the marriage mart. She would need all the support she could get. Mrs. Jasper and their mother had been friends since they were young ladies so she was not surprised Mama wanted to see Miss Jasper’s debut.
“I think that would be a nice thing to do, Mama, but I don’t know if Catherine or Julia will be bothered.” She took a sip of coffee and felt the warmth simmer through her veins. “But what does this have to do with the duke?”
Mama pressed her fingers to her forehead while Emma’s voice grew in volume. “We have not had many successful seasons. With Lavinia married, we have little to recommend us. Particularly after what that wretched Cousin Bess did. Silly girl.” Her mother sighed. “You must ensure the girls are on their best behavior, especially when this duke arrives. If we can make a good impression, we shall have an excellent connection, and it shall make our time in London run that much more smoothly.”
“Ah.”
“It should be simple enough. Keep Julia from
getting dirty all the time, make sure Catherine does not say anything scandalous, and ensure Emma…” Her mother closed her eyes and opened them again. “Ensure Emma does not sing in public.”
As tempted as she was to declare it impossible, Amelia simply nodded.
“Oh, and your little writing thing. Make sure it remains your little secret. We cannot have that getting out now, can we?”
“No, Mama, we cannot.”
Chapter Nine
Nicholas could not prevent his mind from tumbling over Amelia’s words again and again. Well, A. Hardwick’s words. He smiled to himself and climbed over the sty that dissected his land from the farming land around the estate. If he had not noticed what he’d seen in her recently, he would never have imagined Amelia could conjure up such stories. Her witty take on the ton and society in general--along with some quite salacious titbits—made for compelling reading.
It had confirmed many things for him, but there were some things still unconfirmed for him. Did she regret that their kiss in the library, for example? Did she wish to see him again? Did he fill her every waking thought and a few of her sleeping ones too?
He needed to know all this and more, which was why he was inviting himself for tea at their house. The Chadwick girls would likely be home at this hour and even if he could not get her alone, he hoped she would give him some indication as to what she was feeling.
The carefully tended to field gave way to grass land. The wild grasses swished against his feet. Yellow dandelions mingled amongst the green and straw-coloured stems. A forest broke up the horizon, the trees an ancient barrier between his and the land of another estate. A few lone trees rebelliously stood out on their own, standing like guards protecting an army.
Nicholas paused and squinted at one of these lone soldiers. A flash of blue winked at him from between the branches. A piece of scarf perhaps or a lady’s bonnet, he concluded. It must have blown into the tree. Bonnet or not, he could not help but go and investigate.
As he neared, a grin broke across his face. This was no errant bonnet or scarf. This was a woman. A very specific woman indeed.
A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 56
