Undoing One's Enemy

by Camille Oster

  “I couldn’t possibly impose.”

  “It would be no imposition at all,” she said. “Since my father’s passing I rarely get to attend dances anymore.” I was true with a stretch; although there was dancing at some of these events, it was not the same and she was trying not to indulge anymore since Lord Eldridge forced her hand. Thinking of him seemed to make him materialize; she could feel a change in the atmosphere of the room and knew he’d arrived. She was adamant on ignoring him, but his presence was distracting her. As much as she hated it, she couldn’t keep her eyes from roaming over to him. She had to force herself to keep her attention on her present company, but her heart nearly skipped a beat every time it looking like he was even close to looking in her direction.

  She stayed in the company of the man soon to be a reverend. She needed to stop getting distracted; a man like this was to be her future, not the one who would melt her into a puddle on the floor with just a look. Her new interest was a good man, he was drinking modestly and Amelia felt it was another tick in his favor. His lips were not awful, she noted—she could kiss him. She was fairly sure he was not used to female attention, and she also didn’t really have a grasp on how to get from recently introduce to the point of kissing. It seemed a large and awkward step, perhaps something that needed to be led up to over several encounters like with Henry. Maybe she could just ask him, but that would be awfully forward.

  He went to get her a drink and Amelia was left on her own for a bit. She turned around and was surprised by a wall of well-dressed man. He’d snuck up on her and she hadn’t noticed. How in the world could that have happened?

  “You scared me,” she said with anger.

  “I see you have your claws out—ready to get your hooks into some unsuspecting man.”

  “My intentions are honorable, unlike yours.”

  “Honorable? Do you intend to tell him that you seduce men for your amusement? Oh I’m sorry, what was your excuse, a learning experience, I believe.” Amelia pursed her lips in annoyance. She actually was planning to seduce the reverend into kissing her and no further, but there was no way she was having this conversation with her biggest detractor. “Nice quiet life in some small vicarage.” Amelia still refused to bite, she kept her head high.

  “Have you sought me out to have another go at me? If that is the case, I will bid you goodbye now. It was lovely to see you this evening, but I must move along,” she said with sickly sweet politeness. The politeness had a certain use keeping distance and propriety. Their discussions were never within the bounds of propriety. She could almost hear a low growl of annoyance coming from him. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see if my friend.” She stepped around him with her head held high. She knew he struggled to put aside his gentlemanly duties; she would play on that if she had to. He grabbed her by the elbow as she walked past.

  “I actually meant to apologize for my behavior the other night. It was … beneath me,” he said awkwardly. He stood stiffly looking past her over her head. His apology took her by complete surprise, and she didn’t know how to respond, she could only nod. “You have a knack for bringing out the worst in me.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she excused herself.

  He watched her go and unclenched his hand. He had apologized like he’d planned. It had taken all of his resolve to do it, particularly as he found her here batting her eyes at that pathetic young clergyman. His jealousy was tearing holes in his insides and he was ashamed of it. Jealousy was a weakness and he hated the hold it had over him. He’d felt it seep into him as he saw her talking to the whelp. Truthfully he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Seeing her married to such an inconsequential man should not be a concern to him, it would fit into a scenario of relative ruination quite nicely. It’s not like he didn’t want her to starve on the streets, but there was something in him that begrudged her the fate she sought.

  He needed a drink. It was something he could do with himself at the moment. He spotted a suitably well aged bottle of whiskey and decided to stake a claim.

  “She is a headstrong girl,” a feminine voice said behind him. He turned to see the courtesan friend and he groaned inwardly. He refused to participate in the conversation. “Not set to compromise.”

  “She chases fairy tales,” he said finally.

  “Perhaps, but she is a vivacious young woman, sooner or later she will find someone who is devastated by her.” He closed his eyes at the sinking feeling and snorted. He knew she was capable of sheer destruction; he had been at the mercy of it himself. “That young man seems quite taken,” she continued. It was bad enough watching the country clergyman returned to her side, this woman didn’t have to torture him with it. The young man had spots of red on his cheeks indicating that just speaking to her made him flush. He had to turn away from the sickening sight.

  “I suppose it is natural for the young and stupid to eventually find each other,” he said and straightened out his jacket.

  “She believes a kiss will tell her if she had found the right man,” she continued. He looked at the older woman like she was insane. It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “There is a certain chemistry in a kiss, she apparently knows what she’s looking for.” He was pretty sure he may just have discovered the source of Amelia Hessworth’s more demented beliefs. The girl had no chance of seeing reason if this woman was whispering such nonsense in her ear. He’d had enough and walked away.

  It really was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. A surge of anger washed through him at the thought of the whelp putting his wet naïve lips on her.

  He should leave, but he refused to admit defeat. Defeat was not something he accepted, which was probably the reason that Miss Hessworth still had a claim on his mind. The problem was that he hadn’t exactly defined what victory looked like; he just felt that he hadn’t achieved it. He had always believed that just throwing her out of his familial property had been enough, but things hadn’t worked out that way.

  “I see your girl has moved onto a new target,” Lord Hariston said with not entirely well-meaning mirth. “What a shame; although not for the rest of us. It seems she is still quite wilful. I guess she just hasn’t found the right one to tame her. She is certainly looking in the wrong place with that one,” he said nodded to the young man deep in discussion with her.

  He wanted to lay claim to her somehow, but he would look ridiculous if he did while she was flirting with another man mere yards away.

  “I don’t think she is to your tastes,” he finally said as a means of putting him off.

  “I have broad tastes,” Lord Hariston said with a lurid smile. Richard had learnt that the statement was true; Lord Hariston was much more jaded than he’d first thought. Actually he had never cared to find out entirely how broad, but his character had revealed itself more and more. He had no particular objection to jaded men, they were a constant component of society, he just didn’t like it targeted at her. She truly did not have the mechanisms to deal with it. Her naivety was truly breath-taking. Naivety and stubbornness was a dangerous combination. He considered warning the courtesan of Lord Hariston’s interest, but it wasn’t his place. Surely the woman is experienced enough to spot people like Lord Hariston. He was pretty sure that woman had experienced everything this company would produce. Amelia Hessworth was not his business, he’d ended up taking care of her enough as it was, and he really shouldn’t volunteer further because she was doing him no good.

  He decided that he’d had enough and left for home. Part of him wanted to stay and keep an eye on her, but he also knew that it would do him no good to watch her sneak behind a pillar with her new interest, or whatever it was she had in mind. The house was dark and empty when he got home. The staff had all gone to bed, except Granson who let him in and bid goodnight after he’d been dismissed.

  Richard went upstairs to his bedchamber. He felt exhausted, but unable to sleep. He hated being there at that moment, but he hated being at the party as well. At the rat
e he was going, he was getting no peace anywhere. The only thing that distracted him was the investment proposals and subsequent negotiations; it took him out of his own mind and the restlessness within.

  He could not return to the rounds of the marriage market, it was too much to bear. He had grown weary of society, and the station he had worked so desperately to attain. He had grown equally weary of Lord Hariston’s ilk and their relentless pursuit of entertainment and purpose. At his darkest hours he’d started contemplating returning to the West Indies—there he’d had a purpose, he’d strived to achieve and he’d been comfortable in his own skin. All anchors he felt were now missing. He’d thought a wife would settle him, but he couldn’t tolerate the women presented to him. He had found something when Amelia Hessworth had found her way to his room, but she’d taken it back as soon as she’d offered it. He couldn’t define what it was, but he felt its absence keenly.

  He should have another drink, but he couldn’t be bothered going downstairs to get one. Maybe he would ask Granson to install a bar in his bedroom, like the aged invalids that installed all their comforts in their bed chambers.

  Amelia didn’t find the right time to kiss the young clergyman, but she had invited him to call the next day; an invitation that he had enthusiastically accepted. All in all, it was a pleasant evening, with some rather disturbing and distressing exceptions.

  “Lord Eldridge seemed bothered by your new acquaintance,” Celeste said as they got home.

  “He is uniformly bothered by everything I do. He finds me disagreeable in every respect.”

  “Yet he travels in the same circles as you.”

  “Only so he can make his hatred known as often as humanly possible.” She didn’t want to mention the apology and she had no idea why. Maybe it was something she didn’t want to acknowledge in her own head, because it would mean something if she did.

  “If you say so, my dear. I shall retire,” Celeste said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Men are funny creatures. They react in odd ways when pressured.”

  “Well, I wish he would just react somewhere else.”

  “Maybe he wouldn’t react at all somewhere else, perhaps that is his problem.” Celeste turned and left. Amelia dismissed the comment and sought out her room. She’d had her fill thinking about Lord Eldridge and his oddness. She’d decided that she should not think of him at all. He just seemed to pop up again whenever she had more or less succeeded in wiping him from her mind.

  The next few days were surprisingly busy. They were invited to dine with Anton, which was really an excuse for him to invite the Russian girl without scaring her off. She was an oddly direct creature, but she had a sense of humor even if her English was murderous. Her French was better, so they spent most of the evening conversing in French. Anton was besotted.

  “I will bet you a pound that Anton will take her to Paris in a few months,” Celeste whispered.

  “I am certainly not going to bet against you, I think you are right.” Well, at least someone was having success in finding love, not that the girl’s feelings were yet known, but she was here which was a good sign—as opposed to her clergy man, who’s gone on a retreat for a week.

  “I’m not sure the Reverend is the man for you,” Celeste said reading her mind.

  “He seems like a lovely man,” Amelia said, hoping Celeste was wrong.

  “Perhaps I am wrong,” Celeste said picking some escaped crumbs off her dress. “I just suspect he is not the passionate man you were hoping for.”

  “Maybe passion is over-rated,” Amelia said furtively. She was actually quoting back the sentiment that Henry had told her once. She felt exhausted by the unwanted feelings she’d had with Lord Eldridge, which technically could be described as passion due to their intensity.

  “Only for those too weak to bear it, and that is not you.”

  Amelia considered Celeste’s words. She’d been having doubts lately—maybe love just wouldn’t come for her. It didn’t come for many people, and maybe she should prepare herself for such a future. She wondered what she was going to do if it didn’t. She acknowledged that she didn’t want to be in a loveless marriage, being shackled to a man and under his control without any recourse. Celeste’s view on marriage was rubbing off on her. Perhaps entering trade would be an alternative, that way she could be the mistress of her own destiny and she would succeed or fail on her own account. She had sufficient money from her inheritance to start a small enterprise and there were trades that men were generally less suited for—she could attempt something in that direction. If all else failed, she could be a governess—resigning to that bleak existence. She wasn’t ready to give up yet; she was just a bit weary.

  An evening at Lord Hariston was on the cards. Amelia wasn’t going to go, but for the sole reason of refusing to be harried away by Lord Eldridge. She had some pride and she needed to prove to herself that she was in charge of her own destiny, not him. Lord Hariston was one of his friends, but she refused to adjust her schedule to suit him.

  She had steeled her resolve when she got there, but it proved unnecessary as he was not in attendance. She had come prepared for a fight, but need not have bothered. It didn’t matter; she was determined to enjoy the evening, even if there wasn’t anyone of interest there. Celeste’s interest seemed to be with a particular man—a man from America. Amelia didn’t involve herself in that side of Celeste’s dealings.

  Instead she wandered around the room and found conversations to join.

  “You look ravishing tonight,” said Lord Hariston, “but then you always do.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She had no problem taking that compliment as she doubted the sincerity of it. It was something they had to say and she took it as such. “It is such a lovely evening tonight.”

  “Yes, we had to open the doors to the garden to let some air in. I do have a lovely garden; you should take a look at it while you’re here.”

  “That is a generous offer, Lord Hariston. If I am in need of air tonight, I shall,” she said with a smile. She already knew that was not going to happen. She was not going to be caught alone anywhere tonight; she didn’t entirely trust the company. “If you could be so kind to direct me to the powder room,” she said quietly to the host.

  “Of course, down the hall there and the third door to the left,” he said. She thanked him and dismissed herself. She walked across the room to the hall he had indicated, wondering if she could leave after she sorted some of her immediate needs. She had proven her point of not being chased away and there was little here she found diverting.

  She found the third door and stepped inside. It wasn’t a water closet at all, it was a study. She must have gotten the wrong door. She turned to leave but was instead shoved inside by Lord Hariston.

  “I seem to have taken a wrong turn,” she said.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said with a grin.

  “I’m sorry, I was looking for the water closet.”

  “That can wait.”

  “I’m afraid the need is rather dire,” she said in a strong voice.

  “I think we can have a little chat first,” he said and reached up to touch her upper arm. She backed away and it only gave him room to close the door behind him. He locked it and put the key in his pocket.

  “Please step aside, Lord Hariston,” she said with her most commanding voice.

  “In a little bit, dear. I knew your father.”

  “You have told me once before.”

  “An interesting man.”

  “Yes,” she said. He grabbed her close and she shouted with indignation. “Let me go this instance.”

  “Or you will do what?”

  “I will scream.”

  “These walls are thick and the music is loud—no one will hear you. My, you are a wilful creature,” he said licking his lips. Amelia wanted to throw up. She knew being alone with someone here was a bad idea, she had expressly forbid herself being caught in this situation, but she’d been tricked and sh
e suspected she’d been misdirected on purpose.

  “I do not want this,” she said forcefully.

  “Well, I do. I have been thinking about this for quite a while now, and now that you are no longer associated with Lord Eldridge, I see no reason not to.”

  “Except I am unwilling.”

  “Which makes no difference; it almost makes this sweeter.”

  “You are vile, let me go at once.” Amelia started to panic, but he held her so tight. Her panic only grew when he forced a rope around her wrist and pulled it tight. He manhandled her toward the desk while she did her best to struggle. He was deceptively strong and she was unable to compete with his strength. She did manage to scratch his face, which would have given her a sense of accomplishment if her panic hadn’t overridden everything. He threaded the rope around one of the legs and pulled her arm down until she couldn’t move.

  “There now, can’t have you scratching me to pieces,” he said and forced the robe around her other wrist. Amelia was starting to hyperventilate. Both of her wrists were now pinned to the desk. “Now let’s see,” he said and slowly began to lift her dress up. She tried to kick him, but it only made him more excited. Her stomach was churning with nausea; she was going to throw up. She couldn’t believe this was happening, it was revolting and she started to cry, having run out of ideas.

  A great splintering of the door distracted him and she took the opportunity to place a kick into his groin from which he moaned and doubled over in pain. Amelia was too distraught to thoroughly understand what was going on, but he was there, Lord Eldridge was there. She wasn’t entirely sure at first as her tears were obscuring her view, but she knew when he started undoing the painful ties on her wrists and then lifted her up. She clung to him for safety. He had saved her, she repeated in her head. She felt safe and she wished he’d never let her go. She hid her face in his shoulder as he took her away from that awful man. The next thing she knew, she was in a carriage. She could hear the hooves of the horse and felt relief as she was getting away from that horrid house and the even worse situation that had been forced on her. She couldn’t stop crying. He kept her in his lap and held her while she cried.