Amara (Carlton House Cartel Book 2)

by Wendy Soliman

  Amara sighed, feeling cheated because she was destined never to be the recipient of such deep, abiding and reciprocal love. The future her father had planned for her would take a very different path.

  Cora’s deception had made Amara a sorry excuse for a guest, and she knew that her lack of contribution to the conversation had been noted by Mrs Kendal. Mr Harland, seated at her side, made efforts to draw her into their discussions, explaining who people were when they spoke of members of the prince’s court whom she could not recollect, but he too seemed preoccupied.

  When dinner was over, the ladies withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Amara felt she owed her hostess an apology.

  ‘I am sorry to be so dreary this evening, Mrs Kendal,’ she said. ‘It is unpardonable of me and I hope you will excuse my inattention.’

  ‘Firstly, if we are to be friends, you must call me Sabine and I shall address you informally, both of you, if you have no objections.’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ Eva replied for them both.

  ‘Excellent. That’s all settled then. And as to being dreary, Amara, you are no such thing. It must have taken a great deal of courage for you to defy your father’s wishes. I have had personal experience of the views that strict parents cling to, simply assuming that they know what is best for their offspring, even if the best just happens to coincide with their own interests.’

  Amara couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘You do understand,’ she said softly.

  ‘Better than you could possibly know.’ She looked away briefly, her eyes haunted, but when she returned her attention to Amara again she had her emotions under control and her expression gave nothing away about her feelings. ‘Anyway, you are enjoying your defiance and the experience of life here in England. I dare say you have always been dutiful, so it stands to reason that your pleasures will be stifled by a guilty conscience—so my advice, for what it’s worth, is to live for today and let tomorrow take care of itself.’

  ‘That is what I try to tell her,’ Eva said.

  ‘It is a little more complex than that.’ Amara explained about Cora’s duplicity.

  ‘Then I feel vindicated,’ Sabine replied, sitting up very straight and looking pleased with herself. ‘I took her in dislike the moment I set eyes on her. Sanctimonious females are frightfully dull, I find.’

  Eva laughed. ‘That description perfectly encapsulates Cora. Now I come to think of it, I don’t believe I have ever seen her smile.’

  ‘Well, I finally stood up to her tonight and took charge of matters, for now at least. I hate that I have always allowed her to speak her mind.’

  ‘Try not to think about her, my dear. She will not be permitted to get above herself in this household. I will have my maid, who is more of a friend really, keep an eye on her. She will not be permitted to send any messages; on that score you have my assurance.’

  ‘Mr Lykaios will find out where we are living fairly quickly, I expect,’ Amara said, sipping at her coffee and smiling at Ace, stretched full length in front of the fire with his paws pointing skywards. ‘He need only have someone follow us when we next leave the pavilion. He won’t be able to follow us all the way here without being seen, but once we are on this road, he will know where we are going and who we are staying with.’

  ‘Which won’t do him a blind bit of good, so stop fretting,’ Sabine chided.

  Amara promised that she would try. The gentlemen joined them at that moment and Amara attempted to seem less preoccupied.

  It quickly became clear that she was fooling no one when later in the evening, Mr Harland found an opportunity to draw her aside.

  ‘I was exploring earlier and found this delightful covered walkway in the lee of the wind. Would you care to join me for a stroll?’

  He proffered his arm but Amara hesitated to place her hand on it. She had never before walked alone with any man who was not a member of her family. Mr Harland smiled down at her and elevated one brow in a challenging fashion, as though provoking her to follow her instincts. Oh, if only she could!

  Despite the restrictions placed upon her, there was no one here to prevent her from walking with him, she concluded. Besides, she never could resist a challenge, as her brothers had discovered to their cost, and had a point to prove to her distractingly attentive escort.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, placing her hand on his sleeve and feeling very daring.

  They left the drawing room, apparently unnoticed by Eva, Sabine and Lord Jonas, who were enjoying a lively conversation and not paying them any attention. A chill sea wind touched Amara’s overheated skin, making her feel alive and reckless, and glad that she had gone with her instincts. She threw back her head and breathed in the tangy air, tasting salt on her lips, feeling abandonment in her soul.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked as they strolled and she felt far too conscious of his close proximity; of the mingled aroma of sandalwood soap and temptation. His masculinity, vital and disarming, unbalanced her. She could so easily be drawn to this most fascinating of men. She was drawn to him but knew it was hopeless and couldn’t decide if she was foolish to torture herself by prolonging the agony in such a manner.

  ‘Why should anything be amiss?’

  His chuckle was imbued with a wealth of confidence and she reacted to the deep, throaty sound all the way to the pit of her stomach. ‘You are perfectly safe with me,’ he assured her.

  Which was easy for him to say. Amara had never felt less secure and less free from temptation in her entire life. And yet she revelled in the heady experience as he gazed down at her, his smile heating the air between them, and decided that rebellion brought its own fleeting reward. She knew what fate awaited her when she returned home—a future she had been obliged to agree to in order to be allowed to sing in public—so she might as well make the most of her remaining liberty and build up memories that would comfort her into her old age.

  Amara knew that soon, far too soon, she would never be permitted to think for herself again, which added to her determination to do so now.

  ‘You are thinking of your home,’ he said, when she failed to respond to his remark. ‘I can always tell. Your expression closes down, you look forlorn and I feel as if I can no longer reach you.’

  ‘You do not know me, or anything about me.’ She tossed her head, thinking their conversation had become too personal. She didn’t want to waste this precious time alone with Mr Harland dwelling upon her own dreary future. ‘My life is very different to the liberal attitudes that prevail here in England, and I would much prefer to enjoy these new pleasures before…well, before thinking about anything else.’

  He directed her to a bench at one end of the walkway, waited for her to seat herself and then, swishing the tails of his coat aside, took the place beside her. Amara could feel the pressure of his thigh against her own since the bench was barely wide enough to accommodate them both. She ought to move but the sensations created deep within her core by the simple contact heightened her perceptions and stimulated her passion.

  Moving away was out of the question.

  ‘You regret your decision to accept the prince’s invitation?’ he asked.

  ‘What makes you suggest that?’

  His expression lost its distance as he focused his gaze on her profile. ‘You have been preoccupied the entire evening.’

  ‘Have I? Then my manners must be at fault.’

  ‘Amara!’

  He used her name for the first time. It sounded natural slipping from his lips, and she saw no point in objecting to his informality. The usual rules of conduct didn’t apply in the current circumstances.

  ‘Regret?’ She threw back her head as she considered his earlier question. ‘I don’t regret it, but my disobedience will anger and disappoint Papa and I will pay a heavy price for it. Besides, I know now that sometimes ignorance is bliss. One cannot miss what one has never experienced, don’t you agree, Mr Harland?’

  ‘Louis.’ He covered one of her hands with his own and gave
it a gentle squeeze. ‘My friends call me Louis.’

  ‘We can never be friends,’ she said with a sad little shake of her head. ‘It wouldn’t be permitted, even if our paths did happen to cross after I return home, which is unlikely. But I will call you Louis if that is what you would prefer.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me why you are so preoccupied.’

  ‘Even supposing that I am not simply overwhelmed by my new surroundings—’

  Louis laughed. ‘You sang for a prince and the cream of English society without showing any signs of being overwhelmed, so excuse me if I do not believe you.’

  She let out a long sigh. ‘Since you insist upon knowing my business, I have just discovered that my maid has been spying on me and reporting everything I do to Mr Lykaios.’

  Amara was startled when a few tears trickled down her cheeks. How could that be? She was angry, not upset. Louis arrested one with the tip of a finger, which he then sucked into his mouth. The gesture was both tender and provocative, but produced a very different reaction to the one he had perhaps intended. Instead of her tears drying up, the trickle turned into a flood, and before she knew it she was resting the side of her face against his shoulder as she sobbed her heart out.

  Louis was momentarily stunned by her reaction. Without a conscious thought he wrapped a protective arm around her slim shoulders while her body shook and she gave in to her sorrow. When he sensed that the worst of the storm had abated, he reached into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief.

  ‘Thank you.’ She hiccupped. ‘Please forgive me. I don’t know what came over me.’

  She raised her face from his shoulder and he reluctantly withdrew his arm, watching her as she mopped her eyes and blew her nose.

  ‘Do you feel better?’ he asked softly, thinking how inadequate his words sounded and wishing there was something practical he could do to help her. Wishing she would tell him everything. Wishing so many things. He had tried—really tried—to pull away from her that evening, but had as much chance of succeeding, he soon realised, as he would have had of pushing a boulder uphill.

  One glance at her distracted face now and he was lost to all reason, aware there was little he would not do to put the smile back on her face. For the first time in his recollection, his duty to the prince took a backseat.

  ‘No apologies are necessary. Your maid, one assumes, is a trusted member of your father’s household.’

  ‘Yes, she is a distant relation and has been in service with our family since I was a small child, which she seems to think gives her the right to make decisions on my behalf. I didn’t realise it before, I suppose, because I never had occasion to…well, make my own decisions.’

  ‘She doesn’t approve of your remaining in England, or dispensing with Lykaios’s services, one assumes, but she can do no further harm.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  Louis allowed a short silence and then made his next suggestion with a heavy heart. ‘I can see that you are conflicted. I understand all too well the pressures of duty, being a younger son. Thankfully my elder brother is married with two strapping sons, so the future of the earldom is secure and I am now free to make my own way. It cannot be easy for you, especially since different expectations are placed upon the shoulders of daughters.’ He paused, forcing the next words past rigid lips. ‘Perhaps you should consider returning to Greece.’

  She had continued to look away from him but that suggestion caused her head to sharply swivel back in his direction as she pinioned him with a look of dark betrayal. ‘Have I become too much of a burden already?’ she asked curtly.

  He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers, holding it so tightly that she couldn’t extract it from his grasp despite her best efforts. ‘The very opposite is true,’ he said in a softly seductive drawl. ‘You must know that. But we are none of us masters of our own destinies. There are larger considerations at play…’

  ‘Ah, your precious prince.’ She managed eventually to snatch her hand back, sniffing disdainfully. ‘Of course he is your only concern.’

  ‘You are being petulant,’ he told her, aware that he had handled the situation badly and made the situation ten times worse.

  ‘I am glad to know that you consider me to be a child.’

  ‘Amara, look at me!’ He grasped her shoulders and forced her to turn her torso in his direction. ‘Is this the face of a man addressing a child?’

  ‘I am well aware of the political unrest between Greece and England, it might surprise you to learn.’ The accusation had left her tone and been replaced with pathos. ‘I believe the prince thought that he could mend bridges by inviting me to sing at his summer court, but it is already evident to me that he misunderstands the situation. All he has managed to do is give my father further fuel for resentment. Be that as it may, the damage is done, so I might as well stay.’

  ‘I had no idea you understood George’s bumbling attempts to rectify matters.’

  ‘I am not stupid.’

  Louis chuckled. ‘No, my fiery little siren, you certainly are not.’ His voice dipped to a seductive register. ‘You are clever, brave, talented, heartbreakingly beautiful and a touch vulnerable. Your courage and your defiance of all that is familiar to you is as courageous as it is admirable—and always know, my sweet, that I hold you above every other woman of my acquaintance.’

  She swallowed. ‘You do?’ Her voice was a little above a whisper and she looked endearingly unsure of herself. How could she possibly lack confidence, Louis wondered? Was her father really so strict that he had suppressed her spirit and made her doubt herself?

  ‘I really do.’

  He reclaimed her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. She gasped, watching him through widened eyes that were smouldering and luminescent, probably confused and conflicted by his behaviour, a reaction that was entirely reasonable in the circumstances.

  This lovely young woman had probably never received the adulation she deserved, as she would have been too well chaperoned for any man ever to get close enough to her. He was being unfair to himself too. He had decided to convince her to return to Greece, hoping that he would be able to put his infatuation behind him once they were permanently separated, after which he would only see her nightly in his dreams. But being alone with her now, with a half-moon scudding in and out between shower clouds to illuminate their position and the nocturnal sounds of the countryside dulled by the noise of the sea crashing against the shore, it was beyond Louis’s dwindling ability to put duty before pleasure.

  His allegiance to George had never felt more arduous.

  ‘I want you to be happy,’ he said softly.

  ‘Happy?’ She rolled the word off her tongue, as though unsure of its meaning. ‘Greek women don’t get to decide what makes them happy.’

  ‘That is what I feared.’

  ‘You really advise me to go home?’

  Louis shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to.’

  ‘Even so, I am making matters worse for everyone simply by being here?’

  Louis sighed, aware that she had accurately identified his problem. ‘You cannot go home for at least another month in any event, and beyond that point I am not prepared to speculate.’

  She looked up at him, suddenly appearing self-confident. ‘You don’t want me to go.’ It wasn’t a question, merely a reiteration of his own words, and she sent him a glittering smile.

  ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he agreed, running his knuckles down the curve of her face. ‘But when he arrives, your father will learn—if word has not already reached him—how you have been occupying your time, and then—’

  ‘And then I will be made to pay.’ She stood up, the mood broken. ‘But I already know what fate is in store for me, and nothing Papa does to punish me for disobeying him could make matters any worse.’

  Louis wanted to seek clarification but sensed that she wouldn’t answer him. On a whim he pulled her to him, and her body fell willingly against
his as he circled her waist with his arms.

  ‘My love,’ he said softly, covering her lips with his own for a brief, subliminal moment and then releasing her again before instinct could trump common sense. ‘Come, we had best rejoin the others before they wonder what has become of us.’

  He took her hand and smiled at her look of incomprehension. Her lips parted in a smile of her own and she placed her hand back on his sleeve. He winked at her as they re-entered the drawing room and he left her in the care of her aunt.

  Louis then took his leave, agreeing to return the following afternoon, at Sabine’s request, and to bring Robert Sterling with him.

  Chapter Eight

  Amara slept better than she had since she’d arrived in Brighton. Feeling safe and secure in this welcoming household prevented thoughts of the future her father had mapped out for her from intruding upon her dreams. Cora had peppered Amara with questions about her evening when she helped her to disrobe as though nothing had changed between them. Amara answered her in monosyllables. The trust between them, such as it had been, was gone.

  ‘It wouldn’t do to get too intimate with Mrs Kendal,’ Cora said as she brushed out Amara’s hair. ‘Lord Jonas isn’t her husband. Your father won’t like the thought of you living beneath the roof of such a wicked woman.’

  ‘Lord Jonas has no designs upon me, Cora. It has nothing to do with my father and I won’t hear another word on the subject. That will be all. Goodnight.’

  Cora sent Amara a disapproving look. ‘They are already influencing you,’ she said, sniffing as she left the room.

  Amara woke early, feeling refreshed, and was able to sit up in bed and watch the dawn break over the grounds through the partially open curtains. The patter of falling rain that had woken her briefly in the early hours had cleared away. She could hear the sea crashing against the cliffs in the distance, and the tree branches in the woodland at the edge of the garden were being blown about by a strong wind. Regardless, Amara was overcome by a need to explore.

  She threw back the covers but didn’t ring for Cora. Her maid’s mood would not have improved overnight—when was she ever happy? —and Amara preferred to recollect the time she had spent alone with Louis the previous evening without any distractions. She recalled every word he had spoken to her, every nuance and change in his expression. She particularly recalled the manner in which his gaze had softened and his eyes had darkened to the deepest blue that put her in mind of the Aegean whenever he sent her one of his probing glances.