Reaching her cabin, Amelia reasoned away her fears. Her father’s insistence that she marry Jeffery was in order to preserve the inheritance. Perhaps there was some other legal means by which Amelia could waive rights to her portion of the estate. It was worth questioning her father. If he saw the sincerity of her desire to remain single, even to the point of giving up what her mother had planned to be rightfully hers, Amelia knew she’d have no qualms about doing exactly that.
“I would sooner marry Logan Reed.” The words suddenly came back to haunt her. At first she laughed at this prospect while unfastening the back buttons of her gown. What would married life be like with the likes of Logan Reed? She could see herself in a cold cabin, kneading bread and scrubbing clothes on a washboard. She didn’t even know how to cook and the thought of Logan laboring to choke down a meal prepared with her own two hands made Amelia laugh all the harder.
The gown slid down from her shoulders and fell in a heap on the floor. Absentmindedly Amelia ran her hands down her slender white arms. Laughter died in her throat as an image of Logan doing the same thing came to mind. She imagined staring deep into his green eyes and finding everything she’d ever searched for. Answers to all her questions would be revealed in his soul-searching gaze, including the truths of life that seemed to elude her. Shuddering in a sudden wake of emotion, Amelia quickly pulled on the mountain skirt.
“He means nothing to me,” she murmured defensively. “Logan Reed means nothing to me.”
Having dismissed himself from the dinner table on the excuse of bringing in wood for Mary, Logan had overheard most of the exchange between Jeffery and Amelia. At first he thought he might need to intercede on Amelia’s behalf when Jeffery seemed to get his nose a bit out of joint, but the declaration of Amelia preferring to marry Logan over Jeffery had stopped him in his tracks.
At first he was mildly amused. He admired the young woman’s spirit of defense and her ability to put the uppity Englishman in his place. He imagined with great pleasure the shock to Sir Chamberlain’s noble esteem when Amelia declared her thoughts on the matter of marriage. At least it gave him a better understanding of what was going on between the members of the party. He’d felt an underlying current of tension from the first time he’d met them, especially between the trio of Lord Amhurst, Jeffery, and Amelia. Now, it was clearly understood that the earl planned to see his daughter married to Jeffery, and it was even clearer that Amelia had no desire to comply with her father’s wishes. But why? Logan wondered. Why would it be so important for the earl to pass his daughter off to Chamberlain?
“I would sooner marry Logan Reed.” He remembered the words and felt a bit smug. He knew she’d intended it as an insult to Jeffery, but it didn’t matter. For reasons beyond his understanding, Logan felt as though he’d come one step closer to making Amelia his lady.
Chapter 9
In spite of her father’s desire to have Amelia seek out Logan’s assistance as her hiking guide, Amelia chose instead to hike alone. She was often up before any of the others and usually found herself in the kitchen of the lodge, learning the various culinary skills that Mary performed.
“You’re doing a fine job, Amelia,” Mary told her.
Amelia stared down at the dough rings as they floated and sizzled in a pool of lard. “And you call these doughnuts?” she questioned, careful to turn them before they burned on one side.
“Sure. Sure. Some folks call them oly koeks. The menfolk love ’em though. I could fix six dozen of these a day and have them gone by noon. Once the men learn doughnuts are on the table, I can’t get rid of them till they get rid of the doughnuts.”
Amelia laughed. They didn’t seem all that hard to make and she rather enjoyed the way they bobbed up and down in the fat. It reminded her of the life preservers on board the ship they’d use to cross the Atlantic. “I’ll remember that.”
“Sure, you’ll make a lot of friends if you fix these for your folks back in England,” Mary replied.
Amelia couldn’t begin to imagine the reaction of her “folks back in England” should they see her bent over a stove, laboring to bring doughnuts to the table. “I’m afraid,” she began, “that it would never be considered appropriate for me to do such a thing at home.”
“No?” Mary seemed surprised. “I betcha they’d get eaten.”
“Yes, I’d imagine after everyone recovered from the fits of apoplexy, they just might eat the doughnuts.” She pulled the rings from the grease and sprinkled them with sugar just as Mary had shown her to do. It was while she was engrossed in this task that Logan popped his head through the open doorway.
“Ummm, I don’t have to ask what you’re doing today, Mary.”
“Ain’t me, Logan. It’s Amelia. She’s turning into right handy kitchen help.”
Logan raised a brow of question in Amelia’s direction. “I don’t believe it. Let me taste one of those doughnuts.” He reached out before Amelia could stop him and popped half of the ring into his mouth. His expression changed as though he were considering a very weighty question. Without breaking his stoic expression he finished the doughnut and reached for another. “I’d better try again.” He ate this one in three bites instead of two and again the expression on his face remained rigidly set. “Mary, better pour me a cup of coffee. I’m going to have to try another one in order to figure out if they’re as good as yours or maybe, just maybe, a tiny sight better.”
Amelia flushed crimson and turned quickly to put more rings into the grease before Logan spoke again. “Now I know we’ll have to keep this one around.”
Mary laughed and brought him the coffee. “That’s what I keep tellin’her. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a summer visitor more. Most young ladies of her upbringin’ are a bit more uppity. They never want to learn kitchen work, that’s for sure.”
Amelia tried not to feel pride in the statement. She knew full well that Logan had once considered her one of those more uppity types and rightly so. For the past few weeks even Amelia couldn’t explain the change in her attitude and spirit. She found the countryside inspiring and provoking,and with each passing day she felt more and more a part of this land.
Not realizing it, she shook her head. I’m English, she thought and turned the doughnuts. I cannot possibly belong to this place. She looked up feeling a sense of guilt and found Logan’s gaze fixed on her. A surge of emotion raced through her. I cannot possibly belong to this man.
Swallowing hard, she took a nervous glance at her pocket watch. “Oh, my,” she declared, brushing off imaginary bits of flour and crumbs, “I must go. I promised I’d wake Margaret by seven.”
Mary nodded. “You go on now. I’ve had a good long rest.”
“Hardly that,” Amelia said and took off her apron. “I have been here three weeks and I have yet to see you rest at any time.”
“I saw it once,” Logan said conspiratorially, “but it was six years ago and Mary was down sick with a fever. She sat down for about ten minutes that day, but that was it.”
Amelia smiled in spite of herself. “I thought so. Thanks for the lesson, Mary. I’ll see you later.” She hurried from the room with a smile still brightening her face.
“Don’t forget,” Mary reminded, “you wanted to start quilting and this afternoon will be just fine for me.”
“All right. I should be free,” she replied over her shoulder.
“Hey, wait up a minute,” Logan called and joined her as she crossed from the lodge to the grassy cabin area.
Looking up, Amelia felt her pulse quicken. “What is it?”
“I was hoping you’d be interested in a hike with me. I thought you’d like to go on a real adventure.”
Amelia’s curiosity was piqued. “What did you have in mind?”
“Long’s Peak.”
“The mountain?”
Logan grinned. “The same. There’s quite a challenging climb up to the top. If you think you’re up to it, I could approach your father on the ma
tter.”
“He’d never agree to such a thing.”
Logan’s smile faded. “He wouldn’t agree, or you don’t agree?”
Amelia felt a twinge of defensiveness but ignored it. She found herself honestly wishing she could hike up Long’s Peak with Logan Reed and to argue now wouldn’t help her case one bit. “Without an appropriate chaperone, Logan,” she said his name hoping to prove her willingness, “it would never be allowed.”
Logan cheered at this. “So what does it take to have an appropriate chaperone?”
“Someone like Mary or Lady Gambett.”
Logan nodded. “I guess I can understand that. I’ll work on it and let you know.”
Amelia saw him turn to go and found a feeling of deep dissatisfaction engulfing her. “Logan, wait.”
He turned back and eyed her questioningly. “Yes?”
“I’ve collected quite a variety of vegetation and flower samples and I thought, well actually I hoped—” she paused seeing that she held his interest. “I was too hasty in rejecting your offer of help. My father wanted me to accept and so now I’m asking if you would assist me in identifying my samples.”
“What made you change your mind?” he asked softly coming to stand only inches away. His eyes were dark and imploring and Amelia felt totally swallowed up in their depths.
“I’m not sure,” Amelia said, feeling very small and very vulnerable.
Logan’s lopsided grin made his entire face light up. “It doesn’t matter.I’d be happy to help you. When do you want to start?”
“How would this morning work out for you? Say, after the others have gone about their business?”
“That sounds good to me. I’ll meet you at the lodge.”
Amelia smiled and gave a little nod. It had been a very agreeable conclusion to their conversation. She watched Logan go off in the direction of the lodge and thought her heart would burst from the happiness she felt. What was it? Why did she suddenly feel so light? For weeks she had fought against her nature and her better judgment regarding Logan Reed. Now, giving in and accepting Logan’s help seemed to free rather than burden her.
She approached the cabin she’d been sharing with her sisters and grew wary at the sound of voices inside.
“Amelia is simply awful. She gives no consideration to family, or to poor Papa’s social standing.” It was Penelope, and Margaret quickly picked up the challenge.
“Amelia has never cared for anyone but Amelia. I think she’s hateful and selfish. Just look at the gowns she has to choose from and you and I must suffer through with only five apiece. I’m quite beside myself.”
“And all because Papa is trying to see her married to poor Jeffery. Why he doesn’t even love Amelia, and she certainly doesn’t love him. I overheard Papa tell him that he would give him not only a substantial dowry, but one of the Scottish estates, if only Jeffery could convince Amelia to marry him before we returned to England.”
“She’ll never agree to it,” Margaret replied haughtily. “She doesn’t care one whit what happens to the rest of us. She never bothers to consider what might make others happy. If she hurts Papa this way and ruins my season in London, I’ll simply die.”
Amelia listened to the bitter words of her sisters and felt more alone than she’d ever felt before. Her entire family saw her only as an obligation and a threat to their happiness. Surely there is some way to convince them that I don’t care about the money. All I really want is a chance to fall in love and settle down with the right man. Instantly Logan Reed’s image filled her mind and Amelia had to smile. She would truly scandalize her family if she suggested marriage to Mr. Reed.
The conversation inside the cabin once again drew her attention when Penelope’s whining voice seemed to raise an octave in despair. “I hate her! I truly do. She’s forced us to live as barbarians and traipse about this horrid country, and for what? So that she can scorn Sir Jeffery, a man in good standing with the queen herself?”
Amelia felt the bite of her sister’s words. She’d never considered her siblings to be close and dear friends, but now it was apparent that even a pretense of affection was out of the question. Hot tears came unbidden to her eyes and suddenly years of pent up emotion would no longer be denied.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered, wiping desperately at her cheeks, “why did you leave me without love?” Gathering up her skirt, Amelia waited to hear no more. She ran for the coverage of the pines and aspens. She ran for the solitude of the mountainous haven that she’d grown to love.
Blinded by her own tears, Amelia fought her way through the underbrush of the landscape. She felt the biting sting of the branches as they slapped at her arms and face, but the pain they delivered was mild compared to the emptiness within her heart. Panting for air, Amelia collapsed beside a fallen spruce. Surrendering to her pain, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed long and hard.
It isn’t fair. It wasn’t right that she should have to bear such a thing alone. Her mother had been the only person to truly care about her and now she was forever beyond her reach. A thought came to Amelia. Perhaps a spiritualist could put her in touch with her mother’s spirit. Then just as quickly as the thought came, Amelia banished it. In spite of the fact that spiritualists were all the rage in Europe and America, she didn’t believe in such things. Life ended at the grave—didn’t it?
“I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” she muttered.
She was suddenly ashamed of herself and her life. She wasn’t really a snob, as Logan had presumed her to be. Her upbringing had demanded certain things of her, however. She didn’t have the same freedoms as women of lower classes. She wasn’t allowed to frolic about and laugh in public. She wasn’t allowed to speak her mind in mixed company, or to have her opinion considered with any real concern once it was spoken. Amelia found herself envying Mary and her simple but hard life here in the Rocky Mountains. The men around Mary genuinely revered and cared for her. Her husband had no reason to fear when he took a party out hunting, because everyone looked out for Mary.
I wish I could be more like her, Amelia thought, tears pouring anew from her eyes. She’d not cried this much since her mother’s passing. Mother was like Mary. Amelia could still see her mother working with her flowers in the garden wearing a large straw bonnet cocked to one side to shield her from the sun, and snug, mud-stained gloves kept her hands in ladylike fashion. Amelia traced the fingers of her own hands, realizing that she’d forgotten her gloves. Oh, Mama, what am I to do?
Looking up, Amelia was startled to find Logan sitting on a log not ten feet away. “What are you doing here?” she asked, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her skirt.
“I saw you run up here and got worried that something was wrong. Generally, folks around here don’t run like their house is on fire—unless it is.” He gave her only a hint of a smile.
Amelia offered him no explanation. It was too humiliating even to remember her sister’s words, much less bring them into being again by relating them to Logan.
Seeming to sense her distress, Logan leaned back and put his hands behind his head. He looked for all the world as though he’d simply come out for a quiet moment in the woods. “There’s an old Ute Indian saying that starts out, ‘I go to the mountain where I take myself to heal, the earthly wounds that people give to me.’ I guess you aren’t the first person to come seeking solace, eh?”
“I’m not seeking anything,” Amelia replied, feeling very vulnerable knowing that Logan had easily pegged her emotions.
“We’re all seeking something, Amelia,” Logan said without a hint of reprimand. “We’re all looking to find things to put inside to fill up the empty places. Some people look for it in a place, others in things, some in people.” His eyes pierced her soul and Amelia looked away as he continued. “Funny thing is, there’s only so much you can fill up with earthly things. There’s an empty place and a void inside that only God can fill and some folks never figure that out.”
“Yo
u forget, Mr. Reed,” she said in protected haughtiness, “I don’t believe in the existence of God.” The words sounded hollow even to Amelia.
Logan shrugged. “You’re sitting in the middle of all this beauty and you still question the existence of God?”
“I’ve been among many wonders of the world, Mr. Reed. I’ve traveled the Alps, as well as your Rockies, and found them to be extraordinarily beautiful as well. What I did not find was God. I find no proof of an almighty being in the wonders of the earth. They are simple, scientifically explained circumstances. They are nothing more than the visual representation of the geological forces at work in this universe. It certainly doesn’t prove the existence of God.” She paused to look at him quite seriously. “If it did, then I would have to counter with a question of my own.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, if the beauty of the earth proclaims the existence of God, then why doesn’t the savagery and horrors of the world do as much to denounce His existence? This God you are so fond of quoting and believing in must not amount to much if He stands idly by to watch the suffering of His supposed creation. I’ve seen the beauty of the world, Mr. Reed, but so, too, have I seen many of its tragedies and injustices. I’ve been in places where mothers murder their children rather than watch them starve to death slowly. I’ve seen old people put to death because they are no longer useful to their culture. I’ve beheld squalor and waste just as surely as I’ve seen tranquility and loveliness, and none of it rises up to assure me of God’s existence.”
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