by Laura Beers
“Thank you, Blake.” Lord Harrington accepted the papers and dropped them onto the pile of correspondence. “I suppose I should be off then,” he stated, knowing it was a foolhardy thing to attempt to call on Amelia for the second time today.
With a concerned glance, Mr. Blake asked, “Are you feeling well, milord?”
“That will be all, Blake,” the earl responded in his usual gruff voice.
Mr. Blake nodded thoughtfully as he started towards the open door. Suddenly, he stopped and retraced his steps. “If I may say,” he began slowly, “I cannot help but comment on how the staff misses Miss Wright.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Adam put his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together, his fingers forming a steeple. “There is nothing I can do on that matter, and frankly, it is neither their business, nor yours.”
“Very well, milord,” Mr. Blake said, straightening to his full height. “It’s just that… Miss Wright brought joy and laughter back to this estate, and we are loathe to see…”
“To see what, Blake?” Harrington asked dryly.
“To see the dark depression return, milord,” Mr. Blake expressed. “I have worked for this estate since you were a child, and we all experienced hardships when Lady Harrington died.”
He frowned. “Yes, and…?”
Mr. Blake took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Forgive me, milord, but you have managed to let it define you.”
“How dare you presume…”
Mr. Blake cut him off, shocking him into silence. “This may cost me my position, but I will say what I have come to say, and I insist that you listen! I have always hoped that the love of your daughter would break your unhappy cycle. It pains me to admit that I was wrong. You shut her away in the nursery and had the nursemaids raise her.” He took a step and leaned towards Adam paternally. “Then Miss Wright arrived, and Miss Marian befriended her. Can you not imagine, milord, what joy it is at last to hear a child’s sweet laughter echoing throughout these lonely halls?”
White-lipped but silent, Adam waited for Blake to finish his thought like a prisoner awaiting the fall of a guillotine.
His faithful and normally stoic servant continued, “Now, I see glimpses of the father that you were meant to be; the father that Lady Harrington would have wanted you to be. And Miss Wright did that. She has matched you wit for wit and made you a better person.”
Dropping his arms, Adam sighed, deflated. “I know all of this, Blake. But Miss Wright is refusing to see me.”
Mr. Blake huffed impatiently. “You would give her up that easily then?”
“I am not giving up!” Adam shouted, jumping to his feet so forcefully that he overturned his chair.
Mr. Blake came towards the desk and held his master’s irate gaze with dignity. “Miss Wright may refuse to see you, but she rides out every day around this time to check on Mrs. Stevens.”
“She does? How do you know this, Blake?”
The butler gave a short nod and pronounced, “It is my duty to be aware of all the comings and goings on this estate, milord. I have never before met a lady quite like Miss Wright. She is bold, fearless, and has a tender heart for the less fortunate. In addition, she is blessed with a keen eye, a quick wit…”
“And a strong right hook.” Adam grinned. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Now that’s more like it! That’s the stuff! I strongly urge you to go to her, milord; go and claim your lovely lady,” Mr. Blake encouraged. “The cook has prepared a basket for you to deliver to Mrs. Stevens.” He gave Adam an exaggerated wink. “After all, Miss Wright won’t refuse your company if she believes you are going to call on the Stevens family.”
With new resolve, Lord Harrington quickly buttoned his coat and straightened his cravat. “Before I go, Blake, answer me this: are my servants conspiring for me to wed Miss Wright?”
Mr. Blake cleared his throat before replying, “To be frank, milord, I believe the whole staff may quit if Miss Wright does not become the mistress of Belmont Manor.”
Adam furrowed his brow. “I do hope you’re not serious.”
In response, Mr. Blake raised an eyebrow, gave him a knowing smile, and walked out of the study.
Shortly, Lord Harrington was galloping his chestnut gelding down the road towards Bexmore. As he came around the bend, he saw a single female rider trotting along the side of the road. Even though the woman was wearing a bonnet, he immediately recognized Amelia.
Slowing his horse’s gait, he approached her and started riding side-by-side. “Good afternoon, Miss Wright,” he declared in a cheerful voice.
“What are you doing here, Lord Harrington?” she inquired, not looking at him.
“I am off to visit the Stevenses.”
She turned her head towards him, eyeing him in suspicion. “You are? Why?”
He held up the basket in his left hand. “To deliver a basket of food my cook prepared.”
“That is kind of you,” she murmured.
He smiled at her, ignoring her look of blatant annoyance. “And where are you riding this fine morning?” he questioned innocently.
“To the Stevens’s, as well,” she replied, reluctantly.
The persistent earl hooked the basket to the pommel of his saddle. “Then I propose we ride together since we have the same destination.”
“I would rather not, my lord,” she stated through clenched teeth.
Pretending he didn’t hear her, Harrington pressed forward. “This will give me adequate time to apologize for what happened at the duke’s ball.”
Amelia kicked her horse to increase its speed, but his horse easily matched hers. “Go away, Lord Harrington!” she demanded, barely sparing him a glance.
“I could,” he started, “but I would rather stay and enjoy your company.”
Amelia pulled her horse to a stop and turned to face him. “I have no wish to speak to you ever again. You sat back and allowed Lord Wessex to disrespect me most horrendously.”
Reining back his horse, he recited his rehearsed explanation, “Wessex started an investigation when he discovered that two beautiful American women had suddenly showed up in England, with no explanation. We are, after all, in a skirmish with America.”
“’Beautiful American women’?”
“Anyone with eyes can see how truly exquisite you are.” He gave her a roguish smile. “And I, for one, could understand why he thought you were a spy.”
Amelia tensed. “And why is that?”
“Because you have managed to bewitch me from our very first encounter,” he confessed.
“And now?” she asked hesitantly. “Do you still think I am capable of being a spy?”
“No,” he shared, gazing into her gold-flecked eyes, “and Wessex does not either.”
“Aunt Nellie told me that the duke caused Lord Wessex to shake in his boots.” She giggled and brought her gloved hand up to cover her mouth.
“He did,” Adam replied, savoring the sound of her laughter, “and he made it clear that under no circumstances were you and Miss Turner to be bothered again.”
“How does the duke wield so much power?”
Adam ran his hand down his horse’s neck. “The Duke of Albany has both vast wealth and great favor with the Prince Regent. His word is law around here.”
Kicking her horse back into a trot, Amelia started back down the road. “I will have to thank him when I meet with the duchess.”
“You are meeting with the Duchess of Albany?” he asked in disbelief.
“She invited Miss Turner and me over for tea,” she shared casually.
Impressed, Adam whistled as he reached into his basket and pulled out a biscuit. “That is a high honor,” he expressed before he took a bite of the delicious treat.
“What are you doing?” Amelia admonished. “That food is for the Stevenses.”
Plopping the rest of the biscuit into his mouth, he reached into the basket and pulled out another one. He extended it towards her as
he explained, “My cook supplied extra biscuits in hopes that it would entice you to speak to me.”
Reaching her hand out with a wry smile, she accepted the biscuit and quickly took a bite. Her eyes widened with pleasure.
“This cookie is fantastic!”
“Cookie?”
“My apologies, I meant biscuit,” she corrected as she finished the treat.
“Does accepting the biscuit mean you accept my apology for being a ninnyhammer, Miss Wright?” he asked hopefully.
Wiping crumbs from her gloves, she remarked primly, “Well… I never actually heard an apology, Lord Harrington.”
Bringing his horse closer, he reached for her reins and stopped their horses in the road. “Miss Wright,” he hesitated, as his eyes implored hers, “please accept my most humble apology for not protecting you when you needed it most.”
He watched as her eyes softened, making them so irresistibly beautiful.
An impish smile widened her lips before she said, “I suppose I must, because Twickenham Manor cannot possibly handle any more influxes of flowers.”
Adam chuckled. “Does this also mean you will call me Adam again?”
“I will,” she paused, lifting her brow, “under one condition.”
“Whatever you desire,” he breathed, knowing he would do anything to hear his name on her lips again.
Amelia’s eyes shifted towards the basket. “Will you please give me another of those amazing biscuits… Adam?”
He laughed. “Agreed.”
Reaching into the basket, he pulled out another biscuit and handed it to her. Only this time, his gloved hand gently traced her fingers, and he was pleased to hear the sharp intake of her breath. Releasing the biscuit, he leaned back and encouraged his horse to resume its walk.
The courtship of Miss Amelia Wright had just begun.
As they walked along the road towards Bexmore, it appeared that neither Amelia nor Adam was in a hurry to arrive at their destination.
Listening to Adam’s adventures while at Eton, Amelia found herself laughing at his boyhood antics. After he shared how he brought a frog into his class, she asked, “And let me guess, your headmaster caned you?”
Adam nodded. “My classmates and I were caned on a regular basis.”
“How awful it must have been for you to be away from your parents at such a young age,” she murmured.
“Not particularly,” he replied. “Most sons of the peerage are sent away to boarding school when they turn thirteen.” He adjusted the reins in his hands. “Tell me about America.”
Amelia sighed. He was asking about how America was in 1813 and not two hundred years in the future. She decided to tell him the partial truth. “It is the land of opportunity,” she started. “Women are treated as equals with men, and we are free to pursue our educational interests.”
“And men allow their wives to work?” Adam asked.
Amelia let out a soft chuckle. “Women are free to see to their own lives as necessary. Some women even choose not to marry and maintain full control over their lives.”
“Why would a woman want to remain a spinster?”
“We don’t use that term where I am from,” she shared. “And for some women, their careers are more important than family.”
Adam frowned. “You don’t think that way, do you?”
“No,” she admitted softly. “My parents were not only devoted and kind, but they were deeply in love with each other.” She gave him a weak smile. “It always warmed my heart to see the way they looked at each other. It was always filled with such longing.”
“And do you wish to marry?”
“I do, but only when I find the right person,” she revealed. “I want a man that will love me more than anything else.”
Watching her with an intensity that she did not understand, Adam replied softly, “Any man would be a fool not to treasure you above all else.”
She chuckled. “You say that, but I have been on some pretty bad dates.”
“Dates?” he asked.
“Um… courting,” she corrected in a rush.
“If men have attempted to court you, then why are you still unwed at the age of seven and twenty?” Adam inquired with frank but respectful curiosity.
“That is not too old where I am from,” she defended in a huff. “Besides, I suppose I have been too busy studying to become a doctor to have time to focus on my personal life.”
Adam shifted his gaze towards the road. “I still find it an odd choice for a woman to even want to become a doctor.”
“And I find it odd that gentlemen don’t assist in raising their children here,” she challenged with an uplifted brow.
With a decisive nod, he brought his gaze back towards her. “I agree. I am going to start taking a more active role in Marian’s life.”
“Really? That pleases me.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes holding her captive. “I would also like permission to start courting you.”
Amelia just gaped at him for a moment before pulling back on the reins, hoping he was not in earnest. “You can’t possibly be serious, Adam.”
“I am.” He followed her lead and stopped his horse. “I have grown to care for you, and I hope to win your favor.”
She shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly have grown to care for me to such a degree so quickly. Isn’t that like a marriage contract in England?”
“If you agree to the courtship, then it is akin to an engagement,” he revealed.
“My answer is absolutely no,” she stated.
He smiled at her. “We shall see.”
“You must understand that I am leaving on the night of the next full moon,” she reminded him. “I have no intention of staying in England.”
“What if I gave you a reason to stay?” he asked intently.
Shifting her gaze over his shoulder at the countryside, she replied, “My life is back in America. Regardless of my feelings for you, I need to go home.”
“You have feelings for me?” he probed with a devilish gleam in his eyes.
Drat! “I care for you as well,” she admitted, “but that does not translate to courting. It takes years for people to fall in love.”
“I disagree.”
“What specifically do you disagree about?”
“I believe a person can fall in love in a moment, and it can last for a lifetime.”
“Was it love at first sight with Agnes?” she asked.
“It was,” he responded, his eyes growing reflective. “Recently, I have come to believe a heart can learn to love more than one person.”
Up ahead was the Stevens’s cottage, and she could see Mr. Stevens outside chopping wood. Kicking her horse into a run, Amelia decided she was finished with this ridiculous conversation. What was Adam thinking by asking permission to court her? He was ruining everything. They were only friends.
Despite him being ruggedly handsome, clever, witty, and the most interesting man she had ever met, she refused to encourage him. She was going home to her time. There was no way that she would ever choose to remain living in an era that didn’t have indoor plumbing.
Sinking the ax into the chopping block with a mighty heave, Henry raised his hand in greeting as they approached. At some point, Adam caught up with her.
Once they reined in their horses, Adam dismounted effortlessly and came around his horse towards her. He put his hands on her waist and smiled as she stiffened. “Please allow me to assist you in dismounting your horse.”
“But I don’t need assistance, Adam,” she murmured, attempting to ignore the tingles cascading through her body at his touch.
“Amelia,” he persisted gently, not relinquishing his hold on her waist, “do allow me the honor of assisting you.”
The way her name rolled off his lips made her feel precious. “As you wish, my lord.”
Placing her hands on his shoulders, he ever so gently assisted her off her horse and didn’t release his hold until she was firml
y on the ground.
“Thank you, Amelia. It brings me great joy to be so close to you,” he murmured softly.
Unable to speak through the sudden rush of emotion coursing through her, Amelia took a deep breath and brushed past, carefully negotiating the woodchips on her way.
She regained her composure as she approached the blacksmith and inquired, “How is your wife faring today, Mr. Stevens?”
“Please, come inside, Miss Wright, Milord ‘Arrington,” Mr. Stevens said eagerly, ushering them inside his cottage.
The proud father stepped aside, grinning widely. Amelia observed that Amy was sitting up on the round stool with her back leaning against the wall. The sleeping baby lay swaddled in a simple wooden cradle beside her. The new mother was knitting a stocking, but she lowered it to her lap and smiled when she saw them. “You are spoilin’ us with your daily visits, Miss Wright, an’ that’s the truth of it.”
Standing up gingerly, Amy placed her knitting back onto the stool as Adam ducked through the door. Her eyes grew wide as her gaze shifted over Amelia’s shoulder. “Lord ‘Arrington, milord,” she said respectfully as she curtsied awkwardly. “Welcome to our modest ‘ome.”
Adam nodded his acknowledgement, extending the basket towards Amy. “My cook sent a basket over with some victuals.”
“A thousand thanks to ye an’ your cook, milord,” Amy replied, placing the basket onto the table. “Er… this is the second basket sent from your estate today.”
“It is?” the earl’s voice rose nearly an octave, and his eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead.
Henry gave his wife a nervous glance. “Mr. Blake’s orders, milord. A footman has delivered a basket ‘ere every day since my wife’s… uh… surgery.”
To Amelia’s surprise, Adam smiled. “That is wonderful news. I must thank Mr. Blake for his due diligence.”
Amy breathed a sigh of relief. “Them baskets been nothin’ short of a godsend, milord, since I’ve been unable to do me usual chores.”
Admiring the sleeping infant, Amelia asked, “May I hold her?”
