by Ella Edon
However, now her social anxieties were flaring up again. As soon as Derby had walked away, Amy could feel the tension building. The walls began to close in on her again, and Amy felt like her corset had been done up too tight. There was barely anyone in the dining hall, but Amy was sure people were watching her, whispering about her.
She had to get out of there. Derby may have gone to get her some food - Amy’s stomach growled as a reminder - but the urge to run was greater. Even if it was a childhood friend sitting with her, Amy knew she would mess up and embarrass herself somehow.
Amy jumped up and hurried out of the room, back into the ballroom. Her father was at the far end near the open windows, talking to Beatrice. They looked deep in conversation, Hartley’s hand resting on his wife’s arm. From a distance, the two of them appeared to be a loving couple. Amy knew better.
She approached them, giving the dancefloor a wide birth and keeping her head down. She wasn’t about to be dragged into dancing. Not again. Amy just wanted to go home.
Hartley turned as Amy joined them, scowling at her.
“There you are, Amy! I was beginning to wonder where you were.”
“I’m not feeling very well, Father.” Amy pressed her hand to her belly. “I would like to go home now, please.”
Hartley snorted.
“Nonsense, the night’s barely started. And you’ve got a full card of dancing partners. It would be rude to leave now.”
Amy sighed. She wished her father hadn’t put out her dancing card. It had been returned to her completely filled in, and Amy had barely given it a glance before putting it into the pot of a plant as soon as her stepmother had walked away.
“I’ve not danced all evening apart from with Lord Derby. I think it’s safe to say I committed faux pas a long time ago. And I really am not feeling very well.”
Hartley rolled his eyes.
“Honestly, Amy!” He grumbled. “You’re as bad as your mother. Well, you can get the carriage for yourself, if you want, but I won’t be seeing you home. I’m staying here.”
“I’ll go.” Beatrice offered. “Just to make sure she gets home all right.”
Amy’s heart sank. Being in a confined space with her father was bad enough, but with her stepmother? Beatrice was just as mean as her husband. She had not a sweet bone in her body, and she made it perfectly clear to Amy. Of course, around everyone else Lady Beatrice Hartley was the consummate matriarch. Even after the way she had come into the family amidst scandal, Beatrice had shown she could carry herself well in Society.
Amy knew her parents weren’t particularly liked, but they never let their veneer slip. The masks stayed firmly in place, and nothing she said would be heeded. Even with people’s opinion, she was a mere woman. Amy would be laughed off.
She tried to maintain her composure as Beatrice took her arm and led her towards the door. They collected their coats and bid their farewells to the hosts, Amy hanging back as Beatrice talked a little too long with the hostess. Then they hurried out into the drizzling rain as their carriage arrived, their driver jumping down to let them in. Amy pressed herself up against the wall, burrowing herself into her cloak, as Beatrice sat opposite her. The door shut, and the carriage rocked for a moment before it started moving, Amy hearing the clip-clopping of the horses.
Beatrice sat back in her seat and shook some of the water droplets off her skirts.
“You know, Amy,” She said, “Lots of men came up to your father tonight.”
“Did they?”
“They commented on your beauty, on your poise. All of them expressed a desire to court you, to get to know you better.” Beatrice shook her head in disappointment. “But you kept running away or hiding behind Lady Merseyside.”
Amy stared out the window into the darkness of the streets. She wasn’t interested in conversing with her stepmother. All she wanted to do was go home and go into her bedroom, where she would feel safe.
“I didn’t want to discuss any kind of subject with anyone.” Amy said woodenly. “You and Father know I hate social engagements, and I was only there to support Lady Merseyside. She understood.”
Beatrice snorted rudely.
“Amy, you can’t hide in the shadows forever. Men have noticed how attractive you are, although I’m not entirely sure what they could find attractive about you. They want to court you, and all you do is embarrass me.”
Chapter Three
Amy sighed heavily. This was a conversation they seemed to have every other day. She hated it, but her father and stepmother didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. If they did, they simply ignored it. Her discomfort wasn’t in their best interests.
“Beatrice, you’re trying to force me into a marriage I don’t want. And I don’t want to marry any of the potential matches you and Father have found for me. They’re not desirable, in the least.”
Her stepmother looked like she was about to have a fit. Amy had been terrified of her as a child when the older woman’s face turned bright red and she seemed to puff up. Amy was surprised she had never completely exploded. But now her appearance whenever she got angry was merely tiresome. It was like watching a child get ready to have a tantrum after being told they couldn’t have a sweetie before dinner.
Beatrice was used to getting her own way. She had set her sights on Viscount Hartley and knew she wanted him for herself. And Beatrice had succeeded. Now she was the Viscountess Hartley and the previous viscountess, Amy’s mother, was now living in a more modest area of London.
Amy missed her mother. She had been a calming influence. Visiting her in the home she shared with her second husband wasn’t quite the same thing. Amy wanted her home.
But anything was better than living with her cruel father and nasty stepmother.
“You’re such an ungrateful brat.” Beatrice hissed.
Amy blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“We do everything for you, and you throw it all back in our faces. Do you think we want you around us all the times?”
“I don’t want to be around you, either, but I have some standards.”
Beatrice snorted rudely.
“No, you don’t. You’re just being stubborn to be the bane of your father’s life. He’s done everything…”
“No, he hasn’t.” Amy cut in sharply. She sat forward and glared at Beatrice. “Father is a cruel man. He beat Mother. She was lucky enough to be able to get away, but I wasn’t. Fathers always have charge of their daughters, no matter the situation. That’s why I’m still under his roof. I will not be ordered around by him, and certainly not by you.”
Beatrice’s face went even redder. She sat forward and jabbed a finger at Amy, prodding her hard in the shoulder.
“You are so ungrateful, little miss.”
“Ungrateful, me?” Amy snorted and slapped Beatrice’s hand away. “You two want me out of your lives. That’s no secret. You don’t want me to have a dowry at all. You’re trying to get me married off now that I’m of age so you don’t have to spend too much money on me. I want out of the house and away from you two, yes, but I won’t bow down to you.”
The two women glared at each other. It was then Amy realized they were alone. The last time the two of them had been alone was when Amy was twelve years old. She had screamed at Beatrice after Beatrice had slapped her for interrupting her conversation with a duchess at a garden party. Amy had, for the first time, stood up to her stepmother. Beatrice had immediately gone to Hartley and said Amy had attacked her. Hartley had beaten Amy for that.
Amy didn’t want to think what Beatrice was concocting in her mind already for her husband.
“I will not marry who you pick for me.” Amy snapped. “Not a chance.”
“Oh, you will.” Beatrice sneered. “If you won’t choose among the suitors we’ve selected for you, then we will choose for you. And you won’t have any say in it.”
“Yes, I will. You can’t force me into anything.”
Beatrice smirked. Amy
held back a shiver when she saw her smug look.
“We can force you, sweetheart. And we will make you marry who we choose. You will not be an inconvenience any longer.”
She then settled back, still wearing that smug look as the carriage rocked on its journey. Amy huddled her cloak around her and shrank into her seat, sinking into miserable silence.
“I’m scared.”
Derby laughed.
“What are you scared about?”
Sarah bit her lip. She was hopping from foot to foot, looking like she wanted to go to the powder room. Her hat was wobbling on her head, and Derby was surprised it had stayed on as long as it had with Sarah’s bouncing. Her nerves were working far too hard.
“It’s different, Daniel. New for me. I don’t know how to deal with it.”
Derby couldn’t stop smiling. It was the morning after the wedding, and Sarah was on her way to a cottage estate in Wales with her new husband for their honeymoon. It would be the first time Sarah had been away from any of her family. Even during her Seasons in London, she had been accompanied by either Derby, their recently deceased mother or a maidenly aunt. Now she would be heading to a place she had never been to as a married woman.
Derby could understand why Sarah was scared. He slipped his arm around his younger sister’s shoulder and hugged her close as he walked her towards the front door.
“Just take a deep breath and go with it, Sarah. It’s just your honeymoon. It’s not as if you’re going to cross the sea to the other side of the world.”
“I know.” Sarah sighed. “But I’m still scared.”
“Oh, Sarah.” Derby laughed. He kissed her head as they paused in the doorway. He turned Sarah to him and cupped her chin, smiling down at her. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Merseyside knows he needs to look after you. He knows I’ll come after him if you’re mistreated.”
“He’s already mentioned that.” Sarah giggled. “I don’t think he’s looking forward to facing you in a duel.”
“Good. I want him to be scared. No one hurts my little sister.” Derby kissed her forehead. “Off you go. Your carriage awaits.”
Sarah bit her lip and looked onto the drive. The carriage that was going to take her and her husband to the cottage had been waiting for a while, their luggage on board. Merseyside was standing by the carriage door, patiently waiting for her. She squared her shoulders and adjusted her cloak before hugging her brother.
“I love you, Daniel.”
“I love you, too.” Derby kissed her cheek and nudged her towards the carriage. “Go. You’ll be fine.”
Sarah nodded, still looking unsure. But she walked down the steps and joined her husband. Merseyside took her hand, giving it a kiss, before helping her into the carriage. Then he touched his forelock in Derby’s direction and jumped into the carriage, shutting the door behind him.
Derby watched as the carriage trundled away, heading down the drive. At least that was one thing dealt with. His sister was now someone else’s problem. Much as Derby loved Sarah, it was a relief that he didn’t have to worry about her too much.
He headed inside, back towards his study. His valet, Stuart Dobson, was setting out various papers on his desk. The older man raised his head as Derby entered the study, closing the door with a heavy sigh behind him.
“That’s the last of the guests,” He declared, “And the married couple are on their way.”
Dobson grinned.
“You make all this sound like a real burden.”
“My sister got married, and I’m pleased for her. Merseyside is a good choice, and he’ll look after Sarah.” Derby pushed off the door and approached the desk, unbuttoning his jacket. “I just wish I didn’t have to deal with the huge parties that go with a wedding. They make me wish I was somewhere else.”
“Wedding receptions aren’t that bad, are they?”
“They are. How did you not notice?”
Dobson shrugged.
“I suppose it’s because you gave me the evening off. You told me to make the most of it, so I did.”
Derby groaned. He had forgotten about that. But Dobson had missed his evening off the day before helping his master get everything ready for the wedding, so Derby had agreed to let him have his time off that next night. Just when he was wanted.
He shrugged out of his jacket and put it on the back of his chair.
“Is everything ready for the day?”
“Just about, my lord.” Dobson stepped back, folding his hands behind his back. “How was Lady Merseyside when you saw her off?”
“Nervous, but she’ll be fine. It’s to be expected.” Derby sat down, stretching out his legs. The chair felt like it was getting far too hard. He was going to need to change it. “Merseyside knows he’s in trouble if he hurts her.”
“The Marquis is just as nervous as his wife. He’s just not one to show it publicly.” Dobson paused. “Is everything well with you, my lord?”
Derby looked up.
“Of course, everything’s well. What makes you think it isn’t?”
“You’re not yourself.”
“I’ve just had to deal with a big wedding and lots of people under my roof, which I’m surprised hasn’t caved in after practically bursting at the seams. Nobody would be themselves after that.”
But Dobson was shaking his head.
“That’s not it, my lord.”
There were times when Derby wished his valet wasn’t so shrewd. As a younger man, he had served Derby’s father as a footman. When Derby came to inherit the title and his own valet had ended up leaving to care for his ailing parents, Dobson was the obvious choice for him. Pushing forty years of age, the man was a calming, stable influence. Derby often turned to Dobson for advice. The man had a very good head for figures, much better than Derby’s extensive knowledge. Derby had no idea how he would have managed without the other man’s help.
But he was too smart, and that was annoying. Derby sat back and frowned at his valet.
“Do I not give you enough work to do, Stuart?”
Dobson’s mouth twitched in a slight smile.
“My job is to serve you, my lord. And I need to know when something’s not right with my employer if I’m to serve him correctly.” Then he bowed his head. “But you must forgive me for speaking out of turn, my lord. It’s just my observation.”
Derby knew he should have dismissed the man and got on with his work. The accounts wouldn’t add up on their own, but he needed someone to talk to. Dobson was a good ear to use when needed. Derby had certainly done that many times in the past as a younger man.
“I’m just concerned, Dobson, that’s all.”
“You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to, my lord.”
“You were pushing for it.” Derby pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “And who else am I going to talk to? I can’t exactly talk about this with Sarah, even if she was here.”
Dobson was silent for a moment.
“Is it something to do with Miss Hartley?”
“What?” Derby shot up. “What makes you think that?”
“I saw her at the wedding before I left for the evening. She looked like she was about to faint, and she barely left Lady Merseyside’s side.”
Dobson was far too observant. Derby didn’t want to think how many times he had been watching when Amy Hartley was around, and Derby approached her. He had to have thought something was going on with the way Derby treated her.
“She was tired and scared, that’s all. Social events aren’t her favorite past-time.”
“That sounds like a feminine version of you, my lord.”
“That’s not funny, Dobson.”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”
Derby shook his head. He was beginning to feel like a fool discussing his emotions with a servant. It wasn’t done, but Derby had a habit of doing things that weren’t exactly conventional.
“She has something else on her mind right now, and it was affecting h
er more than her fear of socializing when I approached her last night. But she wouldn’t talk to me about it.”
“Did you expect her to talk to you, my lord?”
“I...I don’t know. She did talk to me often before, when we were younger.” Derby rubbed his hand over his face. “And she left very abruptly as well.”
