by Laura Beers
“But that does not explain how we arrived,” Amelia pointed out.
The Duke of Albany laughed. “Oh, my dear, innocent child. Once we endorse you, no one will harass you again, or I will ensure they are given the cut direct.”
Peyton whispered to Aunt Nellie, “Does that work?”
“It does,” the duchess answered for her. “Trust us. You will have a wonderful Regency Immersion Experience, I can promise you that.”
“Perhaps you will fall in love,” the duke said, winking impertinently, “and decide to stay.”
Both women protested vigorously before Peyton explained, “I am an English teacher back home.”
“I’m an obstetrician,” Amelia added. At the duke’s puzzled expression, she clarified, “A doctor for childbearing women.”
The duke lifted his brow. “A female doctor. What’s next, a female barrister?”
“Ignore my husband, my dears. I do all the time,” she teased, swatting playfully at her husband.
Amelia bit her lower lip as she debated asking her question. Finally, finding the nerve, she asked the duchess, “Your Grace, why would you give up all that you had, and all of your comforts, to stay in this time?”
The duchess’s face softened as she looked lovingly over at her husband. “To me, I gave up nothing and gained everything.”
Leaning over, the aging duke kissed his wife, whispering something in her ear that caused her cheeks to turn pink. Standing up, the duke pulled down his red, paisley waistcoat and asked the group, “Shall we?”
The duchess reached for her husband’s arm. “You must plan to call on us before you return home on the next full moon. I am curious what happens in the future.”
Walking into the ballroom, the Duke and Duchess of Albany were announced, and the whole room grew silent as they entered. She was surprised when the duke and duchess stopped in the center of the room and turned back towards them, smiling.
The duchess leaned over to kiss her cheek, and whispered, “Smile. Remember, we are dear friends.” After the duchess kissed Peyton’s cheek, she assured them, “Go enjoy yourselves. You will find the patrons in this room will be much more accommodating towards you.”
As the duke and duchess glided off, Aunt Nellie stood next to them and looked at each in turn. “Are you girls prepared to be the belles of the ball?”
Without warning, gentlemen swarmed around them like bees to honey, requesting dances. With a gleam in her eye, Amelia whispered to Peyton, “What a pleasant change.”
Chapter 10
“Blazes,” Lord Harrington mumbled as he brought the flute of champagne to his lips.
Lord Wessex chuckled next to him. “Miss Wright and Miss Turner don’t seem to lack for dance partners this evening.”
An unfamiliar surge of jealousy washed over him as he watched Miss Wright danced the quadrille. He wondered why she was smiling at her partner. For the past hour, he had observed gentlemen leading her out to the dance floor, and he was becoming progressively more agitated as the night wore on.
“You are grinding your teeth,” Wessex informed him.
Harrington tossed back the remainder of his drink and placed the flute onto the tray of a servant passing by. “I don’t know what bloody well happened,” he grumbled. “When did she become so well received by the ton?”
“If you aren’t in love with her, then why are you so jealous?”
“I most certainly am not in love…” He stopped speaking as he recognized the music for the quadrille was beginning to wind down. Immediately, he started striding towards Amelia, ignoring the anger building up when he saw her partner lead her off the dance floor.
Stopping at the edge of the crowd, he watched Miss Wright approach. She was dressed in a rose gown that showed her figure to perfection. Her brown hair was piled high on her head, with satin ribbons woven throughout, drawing his attention to the long, elegant curvature of her neck. Good gracious, she’s beautiful, he thought.
Then, the realization hit him. He was in love with Miss Wright. How was that possible? He didn’t have time to pursue that line of thought, however. All thoughts disappeared when he saw the lady notice him for the first time. Her eyes lit up, reflecting happiness, as she dropped her partner’s arm and moved towards him.
Not acknowledging any other gentlemen, she stopped in front of him with a hopeful smile on her face. “I have missed you, Lord Harrington.”
He smiled broadly. “I have missed you as well, Miss Wright.”
“Where have you been?”
Mindful of prying eyes, he offered his arm while asking, “Would you care to dance?”
She curtsied. “I would be honored, my lord.”
When Amelia placed her gloved hand onto his arm, Harrington felt alive, as if a frisson had passed through him. Feigning indifference, he led her out to the dance floor. Once they stopped, he heard the first strains of the waltz. Feeling her tremble at the touch of his hand on her back, he was touched by the trust in her face as she smiled up at him. He found that she molded perfectly into his arms, and he suddenly had no intention of ever letting her go.
“Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Wright?” he asked politely.
Her fingers tightened around his shoulder. “I am. It is all so unreal,” she breathed. “I am dancing the waltz in a duke’s ballroom.”
Pulling her closer, he said, “The vote in Parliament took longer than anticipated, and I rushed over thinking you would be a wallflower.”
As their arms rose during the dance, their faces were mere inches from each other, and he was rewarded to see a blush on Amelia’s cheeks. She lowered her gaze before sharing, “The Duke and Duchess of Albany have endorsed us. Miss Turner and me, I mean.”
“Did they now?”
She brought her beautiful green eyes up, and he admired the yellow flecks in them. “They did. Which is why we have been inundated with dance partners.”
Adam gave her an impish grin. “I believe there is another reason.”
“You do?” she asked with a puckering of her brow.
He waited till they lifted their arms again, before revealing, “The ton has finally recognized what a remarkable woman you are.”
She smiled coyly. “Careful, my lord, it almost sounds as if you are flirting with me.”
Leaning closer, he whispered next to her ear, “I believe you are correct, Miss Wright.”
“In that case, I would prefer that you address me by my given name,” she said lightly, eyebrows raised.
Harrington straightened and smiled. “Amelia, then. And I would rather you call me Adam.”
“Adam,” she repeated. “I find that name has a considerably better ring to it than Lord Ninnyhammer.”
“I agree.”
Their steps slowed as the music came to an end, but Adam was not ready to relinquish Amelia just yet. “Would you mind terribly if we took a walk on the veranda?”
She beamed up at him. “Not at all.”
He offered his arm, and she accepted it. “I apologize for being so busy these past few days, Amelia.”
“Marian has missed you,” she murmured.
“Just Marian?”
Amelia barely nudged him with her shoulder, a treat that he found delightful. “I believe I already admitted that I have.”
Leading her onto the veranda, Adam found a quiet corner, tucked away from the light of the ballroom. He stopped in front of an iron railing and dropped his arm, shifting towards her. “You look lovely tonight, Amelia.”
She lowered her gaze, but even the dark night could not hide her flushed cheeks. It appeared that she wasn’t completely immune to his charms. This boded well for him.
Amelia regarded him with curious wonder, drinking in the features of his face. “You seem different tonight, Adam.”
“I’m starting to see clearly for the first time in ages,” he revealed, locking his gaze with hers.
“Oh? What do you see clearly?” she asked demurely, her eyes dropping to his lips.
He cleared his throat, wishing they were somewhere more private. “I believe I am ready to start courting again.”
Amelia stared back at him, blinking rapidly, and he detected vulnerability in her eyes. After a long pause had passed between them, she gave him a tight smile. “That’s great news,” she exclaimed in what seemed to be an insincerely cheerful voice.
“Is it?” he replied suddenly suspicious.
Placing her hand on his sleeve, Amelia nodded. “Yes, I think it is brilliant. You need a wife, and Marian needs a mother.”
Adam pressed his lips together, puzzled at her attitude. “Precisely what I was thinking.”
“Why didn’t I think of this?” she declared, withdrawing her hand. “A wife will make you happy.”
He attempted to reach for her right hand so he could declare his intentions, but Amelia stepped away from him. Not only did she seem oblivious to his attempt, but she started pacing back and forth. “What attributes are you looking for in a suitable wife?” she asked.
“Attributes?” He wondered what in the blazes she was talking about.
She stopped pacing and asked, “Do you want a witty wife, or do you prefer a more docile woman?”
Adam closed his eyes in mortification. Amelia thought she was going to help him find a wife. What she failed to recognize was that he already had chosen her to be his wife. Turning his back to her, he put his hands on the iron railing and sighed, slumping his shoulders. Their conversation had begun so well. How had it so quickly turned sour?
While Adam was mustering up the courage to try again, he heard Lord Wessex say, “Pardon the interruption. I was hoping for an introduction to the lovely Miss Wright.”
Turning back around, he quickly made the introductions. “Miss Amelia Wright, may I introduce my childhood friend, Lord Jonathan Wessex?”
Wessex reached for her hand, bringing it up to his lips. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Wright.”
“Thank you, Lord Wessex,” she murmured, her eyes fixated on him.
Closing the distance between them, Adam placed his hand on the small of Amelia’s back. “You may release Miss Wright’s hand now.”
Lord Wessex winked before complying. “I apologize for my possessive friend, Miss Wright. He has never done well at allowing others to play with his toys.”
With his hand on her back, Adam felt Amelia stiffen at his friend’s comment. “Are you implying that I am his plaything?”
The smile slipped from Wessex’s face as he realized his error. “My apologies for my insensitive comment. I was merely taking the opportunity to tease my friend.”
“Of course,” Amelia murmured, turning her attention back to Adam. “Shall we go back inside?”
Lord Wessex held out his hand. “If you will just give me a moment of your time, Miss Wright. I had previously asked Lord Harrington to arrange a meeting so I could ask you a few questions.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Amelia frowned, casting confused glances between the two men.
“Why did you come to England?” Lord Wessex asked bluntly.
“For an adventure,” she answered with an unassuming smile.
Lord Wessex watched her carefully. “And when did you arrive?”
“On the last full moon,” she revealed.
“How did you arrive on English soil, Miss Wright?” John asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Her body tensed, and her expression grew guarded. “Why should it matter to you how I arrived, Lord Wessex?”
“Because no British warship is authorized to carry civilian passengers, and no American merchant ships can pass in British waters without being boarded. So,” he paused, “I will ask you again. How did you arrive in England?” Lord Wessex ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
“I don’t believe that is what you truly want to ask. Go ahead; ask me what you really want to know,” she insisted, tilting her chin up defiantly, her eyes flashing.
With a glimmer of respect, Wessex demanded, “Are you spying for the Americans?”
She laughed lightly as if his words were meant as a joke. “You think I’m a spy?”
Lord Wessex nodded with a serious expression.
All humor left her face as she declared, “No, my lord. I am not a spy.”
“Then why, pray tell, are you really here?”
Amelia squared her shoulders. “I am only here to help a friend.”
Stepping closer to her, Wessex inquired, “And whom would that friend be?”
“I came to England to help Adam.”
Her interrogator’s brow lifted in disbelief, his eyes darting between them. “Adam, is it?”
Crossing her arms over her chest defiantly, Amelia retorted, “I have a few questions for you, Lord Wessex. Why would I spy for the Americans? Based upon my limited contact with the English people, what would I hope to gain by their friendship?”
Wessex’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he took another step to hover over her. “Most likely, you are assigned to befriend lonely lords, using your womanly wiles, in hopes of gaining favors from them. Eventually you will find an official with high enough rank to seduce to achieve your nefarious purpose.”
Livid, Amelia dropped her ladylike demeanor. “’Lonely lords’? ‘Womanly wiles?’” she sputtered. “How’s this for a ‘nefarious purpose’, you swine!” Amelia’s fist landed squarely in Wessex’s face, toppling him to the ground.
“How dare you!” she exclaimed, standing over him, trembling with fury.
Amelia then turned her venomous gaze towards Adam. “How dare both of you!” She took a step back, putting distance between them. At first, Adam saw the outrage and then the hurt crossing her face as her eyes filled with tears. “I grew up reading stories about English gentlemen, and I always dreamed that I would one day meet one. And now, I find myself with two supposed gentlemen, and I realize there is no such thing. It was all a lie!”
“Amelia, wait!” Adam pleaded, taking a step closer to her.
Amelia’s arm shot out, and her words were shaky. “Don’t come any closer, Lord Harrington.”
“Please, Amelia, it’s Adam,” he urged in a hushed voice.
Her bottom lip trembled. “No, my lord. You have taught me tonight, once and for all, that we are not friends. Please say goodbye to Marian for me.”
Turning on her heel, Amelia marched back towards the ballroom, her back straight, her head held high. Harrington stood still, momentarily frozen in shock, while she disappeared through the glass doors. He had just taken his first step to follow her when a stone-faced Aunt Nellie stepped out onto the veranda.
“Gentlemen. Did you have your fun out here?” she asked icily.
Lord Wessex rose but kept his hand over his reddened left eye. “I was required to ask Miss Wright a few questions.”
“Oh, were you?” Aunt Nellie probed, her hands clasped in front of her like a barrier to all her good will. “Did you think of asking me? After all, by accusing Miss Wright of being a spy, you must also believe that I could be capable of harboring a spy.”
Before either of them could respond, a very serious Duke of Albany joined them on the veranda and stood beside Aunt Nellie. “Lord Wessex,” he boomed, his words slow and deliberate. “Would you care to explain why my wife’s dear friend returned to the ballroom in such a delicate state?”
Adam watched as his friend’s resolve shrank, but Wessex managed to answer the duke’s question directly. “I was simply inquiring about her association with the Americans during this time of war, Your Grace.”
The duke’s jaw clenched tightly. “I hope that you did not just imply that my wife and I would ever associate with an American spy?”
“Most emphatically not, Your Grace!” Wessex replied hastily.
“That is an appropriate answer, Wessex, because I will vouch for Miss Wright,” the duke proclaimed, leaving no room for discussion.
Bowing, Wessex confirmed, “The matter will be dropped at onc
e, Your Grace.”
“See that it is,” the duke growled. “And I’d better not hear of anyone harassing Miss Wright again, is that clear?” His words were firm, and the warning in his tone spoke volumes.
Turning his disapproving glare towards Adam, he grunted. “How could you stand by and not defend her honor?”
“I, too, stand most humbly corrected, Your Grace,” Adam admitted, also bowing.
“I have eyes, Harrington,” the duke said, his words softening just a touch. “It is clear that you hold Miss Wright in high regard, but you disappointed her tonight.” With a shake of his head, the duke turned back towards the ballroom and disappeared through the open door.
Aunt Nellie, too, shook her head regretfully. “Goodnight, gentlemen.” She hesitated. “And I use that term lightly.”
Adam watched miserably as Aunt Nellie returned to the ballroom, and he dropped his head in shame. What had just transpired? One moment he was about to declare his intentions to Amelia, and the next he was being dismissed from the ball by the Duke of Albany and Aunt Nellie.
“I say, that went rather poorly, Harrington. I do apologize for ruining the evening,” John mumbled as his hand gently probed his eye. “However, we now know that Miss Wright isn’t a spy.”
Unable to resist, Adam punched his friend in the other eye.
Chapter 11
Standing at the bay window in his study, Adam stared out towards the east lawn. During the past four days, his mood had soured at the mere thought of what had transpired on that veranda. Remembering the look of betrayal on Amelia’s face, he slammed the palm of his hand against the window sill.
Despite sending hundreds of flowers along with apology notes to Twickenham Manor, Amelia still refused to see him when he came to call. It had been four days. Four long days without even a glimpse of her. Why had he taken her smile or laugh for granted?
Turning back to his desk, he moved to his chair and slumped down. Would Amelia ever forgive him? For that matter, would he ever see her again?
Mr. Blake walked into the room with a stack of papers in his hand. “Your quarterly reports, milord.” He approached the desk and extended the papers towards his master. “Your horse has been readied, per your request.”
