An Unexpected Gentleman

by Laura Beers

  Looking back at Belmont Manor in the distance, Amelia decided it was time to say goodbye.

  A lone rider came up over the hill. Amelia immediately recognized the blue riding coat that was perfectly tailored to Lord Harrington’s broad shoulders. He looked magnificent as his horse drew near, and she wished that things had turned out differently. However, she was finished arguing with this man, this so-called English “gentleman”.

  By the scowl on Lord Harrington’s face, he was not pleased to see her, either. Without a word, he approached her, reined in his horse, and effortlessly dismounted. As he strode up to Amelia, he said, “Miss Wright, why…”

  His scowl reignited her indignation. Fuming, the young American took a step closer to him, and he stopped speaking. “I will not mince words with you, Lord Harrington,” she declared. She took another step, looking up at him. “Yes, I am opinionated and sarcastic. I apologize for that.” Maintaining her gaze, she added, “But you have no right to speak to me as you have.”

  Lord Harrington shifted the reins in his hands, looking unsure of himself. “You ignore social etiquette, Miss Wright, and you are much too bold in your manner of speech.”

  “That is fair, but you, my lord, are rude and arrogant.” She took a deep breath and began fidgeting with her bonnet strings. “Sometimes I see glimpses of a good, kind person, but then you become guarded, and I don’t know what to make of you. Those two sides of you confuse and frustrate me. That fuels my own tendency to boldness. Again, I apologize.”

  He watched her silently, his eyes revealing nothing.

  “I do wish you luck with Marian,” she continued earnestly. “She is such a sweet, bright girl, but I think it’s best that we part ways now.” She lowered her hands and stood straighter. “Goodbye, Lord Harrington.” She curtsied, silently praising herself for not losing her balance.

  As she started to walk away, Amelia was pleased with herself. However, Harrington’s next words caused her to stop in her tracks. “I seem to lose coherent thoughts around you!” he proclaimed. “And if I were honest with myself, I would admit that I am rather intimidated by you.”

  Turning around, she asked incredulously, “Intimidated? By me?”

  “Yes,” he answered, stepping closer to her. “You speak as freely as you laugh.”

  She smiled. “Did you just compliment me, or was that another thinly-disguised British insult?”

  Chuckling, he replied, “It was a compliment.” He took another step closer to her. “May I offer you another compliment?”

  “By all means,” she encouraged.

  His blue eyes seemed to capture hers as he said, “I hope my daughter grows up to be a confident woman like you.”

  “I hope so, too,” she murmured, knowing that Lady Marian would never be afforded the same opportunities that Amelia had. “In the place where I live, my lord, women are truly valued for their intellect.”

  A silence descended over them as they stared at each other, neither willing to make the first move to leave the field. Finally, Amelia found the courage to inquire, “Do you recall a woman named Charlotte Wright?”

  Lord Harrington’s eyes sparked in recognition. “I haven’t heard that name in almost eight years.”

  “Do you remember her?”

  “I will never forget her,” he whispered, almost reverently. “Are you a relation?”

  “In a way,” she answered, not willing to share her connection yet.

  “I owe her my life.” His words were filled with anguish.

  With compassion in her heart, Amelia had an intense desire to put her arms around Lord Harrington to offer comfort, but knew she had no right to do so. Instead, she asked, “Will you share with me what happened?” She wanted to further understand her mother’s connection to this enigmatic earl.

  He shifted his gaze towards the horizon and didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, he said, “After my wife died, I became inconsolable. To clear my mind, I used to walk to a large boulder that overlooked the River Thames and stare out into the water. The way the moonlight danced on the waves soothed me. How peacefully they moved and flowed! It was as though they could wash away my loneliness.”

  Amelia recalled the story her mother had told her of the day she’d met Adam Baxter, the Earl of Harrington. Mum hadn’t been delusional after all!

  “I was standing alone, knee-deep in the water, when a lovely woman dismounted her horse and entered the river beside me.” His mouth twisted into a small smile. “Her dress was soaking up water, but she stood in the waves next to me for nigh onto an hour, almost as if she had the power to absorb a portion of my grief. We stood in silence until, at last, I came to myself and perceived that she was shivering with cold. I marveled that she made no complaint. When I helped her out of the water…” he paused, his voice hitching with emotions, “I felt… lighter, somehow.”

  Amelia thought about her mother and the gift of compassion that she shared so freely with others. “Lottie’s greatest gift is her kind and loving nature.”

  “We met at that boulder every day for the next three weeks,” Lord Harrington shared. “She gave me the strength to move on.”

  “Grief can be all-consuming, and sometimes it takes a friend to see you through,” Amelia murmured softly.

  Lord Harrington’s watchful eyes were on her. “Are you and Lottie close?”

  Amelia’s emotions were stretched thin. All at once, it became too much for her, and her brave façade fell away. Unable to stifle her sob, she let the tears flow freely down her cheeks; tears that she had been holding in for months. “Yes! Lottie is dying, and all I can do is watch her suffer.”

  Harrington gently produced a monogrammed handkerchief for her to wipe her tears.

  “I don’t know what I am going to do when she dies. She is the last of my family. When she dies, I will be… alone!”

  Not knowing what else to do, Amelia turned and walked swiftly away from him, toward Twickenham Manor.

  “Wait!” Harrington called after her.

  “I apologize, my lord. Please excuse me,” she cried over her shoulder. Amelia hurried on, then stumbled over the uneven ground and her long skirts.

  Dropping the reins, the earl ran after her. It took only a moment to overtake her, so he was able to catch her elbow before she fell. She took a few steps back, attempting to distance herself both emotionally and physically from him.

  He started to step forward, then stopped. “I no more judge you for your tears than I judge myself for consoling you. You need not fear me.”

  To her surprise, he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. Almost of their own accord, her arms slid around him, and she buried her face upon the lapels of his coat.

  As she allowed her head to remain on his chest, his heartbeat soothed her soul. Closing her eyes, she took in his smell of musk and leather, knowing this moment was fleeting. They were still from two different worlds, and nothing about their circumstances could change that.

  When she was calmer, she stepped out of his arms and wiped her cheeks once more with his handkerchief.

  “Thank you, Lord Harrington,” she said, her eyes finally dried of tears. “I… I was wrong about you. You are a good man.” She turned to walk away but was stopped by a gentle nudge on her shoulder. Peering over her shoulder, she was surprised to see the earl’s horse following close behind her. The chestnut gelding nickered and nudged her softly again.

  Amelia couldn’t help but smile as she reached out to rub the horse’s nose.

  Harrington chuckled. “It seems Hamilton doesn’t want you to walk alone.” He reached for the reins, then bowed to her formally. “Miss Wright, will you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you home?”

  Amelia hesitated. Then, tilting her head, she replied, “Yes, I will. Thank you, my lord.”

  And with those words, she felt something shift between them.

  Sitting at his desk, Lord Harrington had spent all morning reviewing the ledgers, and he found he needed to
rest his eyes and stretch his legs. A dozen chimes from the floor clock alerted him to the time. It was noon, and time for Aunt Nellie’s picnic.

  Miss Wright had invited him to attend the picnic when he’d escorted her back to Twickenham Manor, but as was his custom, he had declined. He hadn’t been to a social gathering since his wife had died. He saw no reason to mingle with other gentlemen and simpering ladies, discussing the weather and avoiding any type of serious talk. No, he definitely did not want to go to that picnic.

  However, an unbidden image of the impetuous young guest came to his mind. Harrington pictured her laughing at something another gentleman might say, her eyes twinkling intelligently. His hands subconsciously balled into fists. What if said gentlemen discovered what a truly remarkable woman she was? After all, it was only a matter of time.

  Why did Harrington find Miss Wright so alluring? She defied convention, she mocked his title, and yet… he was drawn to her. Confounded woman! Why did she disrupt his thoughts in such an unrelenting fashion?

  Making a quick decision, he shouted from his chair, “Blake!”

  “Yes, milord,” his butler replied, appearing quickly at the door to his study.

  “Has an invitation recently arrived from Twickenham Manor?”

  “Invitations arrive from Twickenham Manor on a weekly basis, but I dispose of them as per your instructions,” Mr. Blake intoned, his stoic face giving nothing away.

  “What are the invitations for?”

  “Balls, soirees, social gatherings… events of that nature,” Mr. Blake listed.

  Harrington turned his head to look out the window. “Was I invited to a picnic today?”

  Mr. Blake nodded. “Yes, on the east lawn.”

  Making his decision, the earl closed the ledger in front of him. “Have the groom ready my horse. I wish to attend.”

  “You wish to attend a picnic?” his butler asked with confusion in his voice.

  “Yes, Blake.” He rose from his seat and buttoned his coat. Moving around his desk, he was annoyed that his butler had not already left to do his bidding. “You are dismissed.”

  “As you wish, milord,” Mr. Blake acknowledged before he slipped out of the room.

  Stepping out into the hall, Harrington watched as his daughter ran down the stairs and headed straight towards him. “Is Miss Wright coming over today?” she asked breathlessly, stopping short in front of him.

  “It is most unlikely, Marian.”

  She gave him a sad smile and looked down at her kid leather shoes. “I understand, Father.”

  Crouching down low, he met the child’s gaze. “When I get home, would you like to play that game,” he paused, searching for the words, “what did Miss Wright call it? Hide and go seek?”

  She brightened at once and nodded energetically.

  With a tender smile, the earl took a moment to look at his daughter. She had become such a lovely girl and looked just like her mother. “Perhaps I can persuade your delightful Miss Wright to join us.”

  A wide smile broke out on her face. “Do you promise?”

  He chuckled, rising. “I cannot speak for Miss Wright, but I will make every effort to convince her to join us.”

  Reaching for his hand, Marian started leading him towards the door. “Off you go, Father. Off you go.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, you little imp?” he teased, relishing this moment with his daughter.

  Marian gave him a sheepish smile. “The sooner you go see Miss Wright, the sooner you can convince her to come back.”

  As they arrived at the imposing front door, Blake extended his master’s top hat and riding gloves, causing Harrington to release his daughter’s hand. “Would you like an escort to join you, milord?”

  “No, thank you, Blake, I am perfectly able to ride to Twickenham Manor alone,” he assured, putting on his gloves.

  Marian tugged at his green velvet coat. “Don’t forget to be polite to Miss Wright.”

  He chuckled softly. “I will try.”

  A short ride later, Harrington came up over the small hill towards Twickenham Manor. The extravagant white estate was a beautiful backdrop for the large crowd milling about. Long tables were spread out along the east lawn, and shaded by colorful, striped tents. Servants were standing near the tables, ensuring there was enough food and drink for all.

  A groomsman walked up to him and politely waited for him to dismount his horse. As soon as he handed off the horse, Aunt Nellie broke through the crowds to greet him.

  “Lord Harrington,” she exclaimed in a welcoming tone, “I am so happy to see you!”

  “When did you start calling me Lord Harrington in private?” he teased. “Dear family friends don’t make use of titles.”

  His gray-haired neighbor floated up to him and kissed his cheek. As she leaned back, her face held a warm smile, making him feel immediately at ease. “Adam, it has been entirely too long.”

  “Yes, it has, Aunt Nellie.” Returning her smile, he was surprised at the lump in his throat. It felt divine to be welcomed in such a fashion.

  Her eyes were filled with kindness. “How is Lady Marian?”

  “She is well.”

  “You must bring her to Twickenham Manor for a visit.”

  “I will,” he assured her, knowing that her invitation was in earnest.

  Taking a fond look at his closest neighbor, Harrington was eternally surprised by Aunt Nellie’s youthfulness. Even when he was younger, he never could get an accurate idea of how old she was, because she never seemed to age. She was a striking woman who had always showered him with an enormous amount of kindness and affection.

  Aunt Nellie tucked her arm through his and led him towards the large crowd. “I truly am so pleased that you came to my intimate picnic.”

  “Intimate?” He chuckled. “My dear lady, this is a crush.”

  Pointing towards a long table, Aunt Nellie said, “If you are interested, my chef has prepared a delicious assortment of food. There is chicken pudding, and onion pie on that table.” She pointed towards another table. “And that table has all types of delicious assortments of desserts, including your favorite, lavender cheesecake.”

  “Were you expecting me?” he jested.

  “I knew you would come.” Aunt Nellie gave him a secretive smile.

  Before he could respond, his tall, broad-shouldered friend, Lord Wessex approached him with a gorgeous brunette woman on his arm. “Am I dreaming? Is my reclusive friend, Lord Harrington, actually attending a picnic?”

  Adam smiled at his childhood chum. “After reviewing ledgers all morning, it seemed time for a much-needed distraction.”

  Lord Wessex tilted his head towards his companion. “Miss Peyton Turner, may I introduce you to Lord Harrington, who was my roommate at Eton and Oxford.”

  Amelia’s fellow traveler removed her arm from Lord Wessex and curtsied. “Lord Harrington.”

  Harrington executed a bow. “Miss Turner.” As he rose, he said, “You are American.”

  “I am.”

  He noticed her shoulders tighten and her jaw tense. Nevertheless, he pressed her, attempting to be subtle. “Did you arrive with Miss Wright?” Harrington knew very little about his daughter’s favorite lady, and he realized he wanted to learn more about her.

  Miss Turner shook her head, causing the thick brown curls that framed her face to swish back and forth. “No, she arrived earlier than I.”

  Curiosity won out, and he asked, “And when exactly did you arrive?”

  “The night of the full moon, Lord Harrington,” she replied, dismissively. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen.”

  As he watched Miss Turner walk swiftly away, her pale blue gown swaying back and forth, he was not prepared for his friend’s annoyed question. “Why did you scare her off?”

  “I did nothing of the sort, John,” he defended. “Am I to understand that her Christian name is Peyton?”

  “It is unusual, I will give you that.” Wessex shrugged. “Perhaps i
t’s a family name.”

  Lord Harrington scanned the crowd covertly, searching for Miss Wright. Where was she? He decided he needed to attempt to be social. “How did you come to be at this picnic, Wessex? Shouldn’t you be out protecting English interests?” he asked, knowing that his friend worked for the home office.

  Lord Wessex’s blue eyes grew serious. “That is precisely what I am doing here.” He stepped closer. “Two days ago, I was at a ball, and I met Miss Peyton Turner. When I heard she was American, I grew… interested.”

  “Do you take issue with her being an American?”

  Wessex pursed his lips. “No, but I take issue if she is a spy for those colonial blackguards.”

  “Miss Turner does not look like a spy.”

  “That is precisely the point.” He shifted his eyes back to the crowd. “Have you had a chance to meet her friend, Miss Amelia Wright?”

  A surge of protectiveness welled up inside of his heart, baffling him. “I have, and I can confirm that she is not a spy.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Before he answered, Harrington saw Miss Wright suddenly separate herself from the clutch of picnickers, and she swiftly walked down a windy path towards the Thames. “When we first met, I thought she was applying for the position as my daughter’s governess. She effectively informed me of my mistake,” he revealed. He didn’t bother to wait for a response as he turned to follow her.

  Due to Amelia’s purposeful stride, he found that he was a little out of breath when he found her. She was tucked into a cluster of birch trees, hidden from the prying eyes of the guests at the picnic. Her primrose gown billowed around her legs as she stared blankly out towards the river.

  Not wanting to startle her, he spoke softly. “I beg your pardon, Miss Wright.”

  The lady whirled towards him, as if preparing for battle. When she saw him, she visibly relaxed. “Lord Harrington, how relieved I am to see you!”

  Despite feeling pleasantly unsettled by her comment, he inquired, “What has upset you so?”

  “Some of the men behind me were talking about how much they despise Americans. I understand their hostility towards my countrymen, I truly do, but I was not prepared for such vicious personal attacks.”