by Megan Bryce
“I don’t see why not. I’m quite the catch.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.
“It’s true, and I’ve been told so by more than just your mother.”
“Have you forgotten that I’ve spent the last two weeks extolling your sins to your ex-fiancée and half the ton?”
He coughed. “Well, obviously I’m not the best catch for just any girl. But the right girl now...”
“You thought Clarice was the right girl only a few months ago.”
“And wasn’t it brilliant of me to realize she wasn’t before the wedding?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “We may want to run up to Gretna Green. I don’t seem to do well with a lot of time to think.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you said ‘drink’.”
He smiled at her engagingly and she frowned. “No. Let me put an end to this nonsense now. No. And I’ll be taking the rest of your drink with me. You have an upsetting habit of thinking you make sense.”
“See, this is why you would make me an excellent wife.”
Her eyes flashed for a moment. “But you, sir, would not make me an excellent husband. Now hand over your drink.”
“Yes, dear. Will this be a permanent situation, or will I be allowed the occasional treat?”
He rose, holding the glass out of her reach.
“Jameson.”
“There is one reason I would make you an excellent husband, my dear dragon.”
“I have my own money.”
He took one large step forward, trapping her against the sofa, and bent to whisper in her ear. “That wasn’t the reason I was thinking of.” He pressed the glass into her palm. “Promise me you’ll think of my proposal when you’re not quite sober.”
A small snort escaped her. “I believe ‘not quite sober’ would be the only way I would ever accept your ridiculous proposal.”
He smiled and kissed the indentation below her ear. “Ah.”
The next morning Amelia still refused to shiver, refused to feel the frisson his kiss had caused. It was Jameson, first of all. And second of all, it was Jameson.
She might still be unmarried, but it was impossible to reach six and twenty with her dowry without being wooed. She knew what he was doing.
Idiot! He’d always come up with the most dangerous play ideas when they’d been growing up. Dangerous and exciting. “No, not exciting.”
Her mother looked up from her ladies journal. “I’m sorry, my dear?”
Amelia shook her head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
And he had obviously not been thinking at all. Where had this come from? One moment they were fine friends and then he had to ruin it. A woman had to stay on her toes at all times around him but who could have foreseen this? He’d just got out of an engagement, the last thing he should be thinking about was getting into another one.
Amelia threw her needlepoint down with a sigh. Her mother peeked up again, then set her journal aside.
“Darling, what is the matter? You look quite ferocious.”
“Mama, did you sometimes want to kill Papa, or am I merely unlucky in the choice of men surrounding me?”
“Is someone unworthy pursuing you, Amelia? I know you handle most of these buffoons yourself but you are not alone. We would gladly help you.”
“I wasn’t talking about those men; I was referring to Jameson and Robin. Oh, all right—I was talking about Jameson. He is the most frustrating man, really. And I’m not even related to him. I’ve simply been stuck with him because of fate.”
Lady Beckham hid her smile. “You aren’t stuck with him because of fate. You’re stuck with him because you trailed him and Robin around incessantly when you were younger. You adopted him yourself.”
“If I was feeling less generous I would point out that you should have kept me away from him.”
“Yes, dear. I did try.”
“Well, he was so sad. Nobody else could make him laugh.”
Amelia remembered those dark days still so clearly. Her hero, her brother’s wild best friend, wild no longer. There’d been no more smiles, no more jokes. She’d done everything she could to get him to pull her hair again; she’d been outrageous and wild as he used to be. She’d pestered him and Robin had protected him, and they’d never stopped.
“Has he done something worse than breaking his engagement? You seemed to take that fairly well.”
Amelia looked at her mother sharply. “I didn’t enjoy it. I simply wasn’t that surprised about it.”
“Oh, I must admit I was. He is normally quite sensitive to the hurts of others.”
“Don’t you think it was better than making himself and poor Clarice miserable? I know, don’t answer that. He proposed, he should have gone through with it. It just seemed so silly from the beginning. Why in the world did he ask her to marry him? She’s just a little mouse; he would have eaten her for breakfast one morning and no one would have realized.”
Lady Beckham cleared her throat. “Well, that is behind us now. What has he done recently to raise your ire. I thought he’d been keeping home.”
Amelia looked out the window. She couldn’t tell her mother that he’d kissed her. That he’d asked her to marry him, and despite all attempts to dismiss it, he’d sounded serious. Two weeks after the fiasco with Clarice!
She continued to look out the window as she said, “He’s already looking to propose again.”
“Surprising.”
“Infuriating. I have spent considerable effort untangling his latest mess, and he wants to go out and do it again!”
Lady Beckham was silent as she poured more tea.
Amelia stood abruptly, giving in to the urge to pace. “Why this sudden fascination with marriage? He seems to think it will solve all his problems, yet I only see it adding a great many.”
“Does he have a specific girl in mind? That would not be kind to Miss Underwood. Perhaps you are right, Amelia. Haste in this instance would not be prudent.”
“Jameson and prudent are not on speaking terms, I fear. I must somehow get this idea out of his head before he makes a mess I can not undo.”
Her mother did not try to hide this smile when she said, “I can not think Jameson is capable of doing anything so horrible, my dear. You do have a specific talent.”
Amelia sat abruptly, boneless in her chair. “He taxes my abilities to exhaustion.”
Her mother laughed. “You thrive in such conditions, my dear. You are never happier than when moving your chess pieces around.”
Amelia sat slumped in the chair for a moment, then straightened her spine. “Yes, you’re right. I shall simply have to make him see reason. Shan’t be too difficult, as long as he stays sober.”
She picked up her needlepoint again, focusing on the task only through sheer force of will, and wondered how she was to get rid of all the liquor in England.
Jameson arrived early the next morning, his standing invitation to breakfast putting him in good stead.
“Good morning, Lady Beckham. You’re looking marvelous as always.”
“Thank you, Jameson. I haven’t seen you so early in the morning for ages. Robin won’t be around for breakfast for another hour or so.”
“I’ve actually come for the dra—, for Amelia. Is she awake?”
“Of course she’s awake. Are you escorting her somewhere this morning?”
“I thought she might like a stroll through the green.”
Lady Beckham eyed him. “Forgive me for saying so, Jameson, but would it be prudent to stroll through the green so soon after your, ah...”
Amelia pushed open the door and made her way to the breakfast dishes. “It would be idiotic, as I’m sure he’s well aware. What are you doing here?”
He smiled at her frown. “I’ve come to thank you for helping Miss Underwood get over her ill-advised engagement to me.”
Lady Beckham tsked. “Oh, Jameson. She would have been very happy married to you. As would any young woman.”
Amelia scoffed. “The devil wouldn’t be able to handle you.”
He smiled. “Well, certainly something with horns and fire could.”
Lady Beckham looked at the scowl on her daughter’s face. She looked at the focused smile on Jameson’s face.
Oh, dear. This would change a few things. Now she could see why Amelia had been so agitated yesterday.
Amelia filled her plate. “The green is too public. Let’s ease you, not dump you, back into society.”
“You’ll have to ease me back in quickly, my dear. I’ve already accepted an invitation to the Gratham’s ball.”
Amelia’s plate hit the table with a thud. “Jameson! Can you not consult me before you go haring off? We must orchestrate your entrance with Clarice. We don’t know if she is going and I was planning on keeping the two of you separated for a while.” She shook her head. “Gratham’s will be a madhouse. A ball!”
“Both Robin and you have told me that Miss Underwood is fine, that she’ll be finding herself married in no time.”
“That is true, but that doesn’t mean you can act like it never happened. Let people get used to you again, let the rumors die down.” She looked to her mother. “I don’t suppose he can cancel?”
Lady Beckham shook her head. “It will be all over London by now. Lady Gratham will have the hit of the year.”
Amelia glowered at Jameson. “You make my life very difficult. Please restrict yourself to a daily visit to your club; we shall simply have to make a grand entrance work. Do you think you can restrain yourself from any other grand gestures until then?”
He bowed. “Until then, my dear. And you know I would apologize if it weren’t true that you were getting as bored with hiding as I was. No stroll through the green then?”
Amelia refused to answer such a rhetorical question and began eating quickly.
“I must go and warn Clarice. If we have any luck at all she will not have accepted yet.” She glared at Jameson. “I am not counting on it.”
Amelia arrived quite early at the Underwood’s. Too early, in fact. But it was an emergency, and she informed the butler of that when he refused to show her in.
Amelia had already won against this opponent and she knew his weakness. “She’s learned of it already, I suppose. Crying? Hysterics? The whole household in an uproar? I am always too late. One of these times I hope to get here and prevent the hullabaloo in the first place. When there is a break, please inform Miss Underwood I was here.”
She was, unsurprisingly, shown in. She was left waiting longer than she expected, but not everyone was as early a riser as she.
Clarice looked apprehensive when she entered the drawing room. “Lady Amelia? What is the matter?”
“As always, it is Jameson making a muddle of things. I am sorry to come so early, but I had hoped to arrive before any invitations were accepted and dispatched. The Gratham’s ball?”
Clarice shook her head slowly. “We can not attend. Papa had already invited a small party to dinner for that night.”
Amelia slumped in her seat, a breath escaping her. Then she laughed and straightened. “I was so sure this was going to be a catastrophe. But luck has held!”
“Lady Amelia, I am lost. What is happening at the Gratham’s ball that would have been so disastrous?”
“Jameson accepted. He’s beginning to go out in society again but nowhere you would see each other. I had planned to keep him circulating on the fringes but he jumped in without consulting me. It’s really starting to become a problem.”
Clarice looked out the window a moment before nodding. “I am not ready to see him yet. I have felt confident knowing I wouldn’t run into him, but now... how do I act? I can’t give him the cut direct, he’s an earl!”
“I quite agree. But we needn’t worry about that yet. In a few months you will be engaged again and can acknowledge him with equanimity. Oh, I’m so relieved. And in the future I will make sure we coordinate events better between the two of you.”
“I was so upset that I couldn’t attend but perhaps Grandmama is right. Sometimes things do happen for the best.”
“That’s the way to look at it. Now, I shall leave you to your breakfast. I’ll call again at a more reasonable hour to see what events you are planning to attend. I’ll keep Jameson out of your hair for as long as needs be, my dear.”
Clarice nodded unhappily. “Lady Amelia?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“He will not be coming back, will he?”
A melancholy air surrounded the poor girl and Amelia took her hand. These last weeks she had been so focused on salvaging Clarice’s social standing that she had quite ignored the hurt and betrayal the poor girl must certainly be feeling. Amelia knew those feelings well, even if she too had been forced to hide them.
They sat quietly together until Amelia whispered, “Men are louts.”
Clarice gasped, then giggled. “It’s really too bad we must put up with them.”
Amelia smiled. “I’ve often thought that a nunnery must be so peaceful. Imagine, men locked out!”
They laughed, then Clarice sighed. “But perhaps it would be a bit boring.”
Amelia patted her hand and stood to leave. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Four
The next few weeks’ events were coordinated, and a promise wrung from Jameson that he would not accept any more invitations before consulting her. Amelia decided to enjoy the Gratham’s ball herself. It had been a stressful few weeks and she had no doubt Jameson would find more ways to inconvenience her. She had to take moments to herself when she could. Besides, it had been nearly two weeks since she had been subjected to a ridiculous proposal, if one didn’t count Jameson’s and she didn’t, and she found herself in need of entertainment. Perhaps tonight some young idiot would get drunk enough to propose.
Jameson, Robin, Amelia, and Lady Beckham arrived beyond fashionably late. They sat in the coach, arguing. Now that the moment was upon him, Jameson had realized that he had no idea how he would be received by the ton, and had tried to wheedle his way out. Unfortunately for him, Amelia was in no mood.
“I hope you do feel some disapproval, Jameson. You acted without thought and hurt Clarice terribly. I hope you get a few cuts.”
Robin scolded her. “You’re being very harsh tonight. He does not need disapproval from you; who knows what he’ll be subjected to in there.”
Jameson was quiet, sitting with his head back and his eyes half-closed.
Amelia sat forward. “It is not you who has picked up the pieces these last weeks. It is not you who has held Clarice’s hand while she cried, or when she finally accepted that Jameson never loved her. I did. I am still his friend, though he hardly deserves it. Perhaps it is vengeance on my part that I hope he feels a smidgen of the pain he has caused. Or perhaps it is simply that I never want to go through this again and a few good cuts would help him learn the lesson.”
Robin leaned forward, gesturing wildly at Jameson. “Do you honestly think he has not suffered? That he does not feel the shame and cowardice of what he’s done? Do you think he doesn’t know how horribly he treated the poor girl? He drinks himself to a stupor nearly every night.”
“Is that new? I couldn’t tell.”
Lady Beckham’s reason-filled voice interrupted the siblings feud. “Perhaps we are all too wound up to attend this evening. We can cry off, come up with some excuse.”
Amelia sat back with a huff. “No, we can’t. Just look at this madhouse. They all want to see him, let them see him.”
Jameson took a deep breath and knocked the top of the carriage with his cane. “Enough.”
The door was opened and he alighted. He held his hand out to assist Amelia. “My dear, if I could do it over and save Miss Underwood from all the pain I have caused I would marry her and be a miserable drunken sod for the rest of my days
. But I still think that she will be much happier without me. Let us go in and see what my punishment is to be. Whatever it is, I am sure we agree I deserve much more.”
Amelia took his hand, stepping down. She looked into his sad eyes and pushed her anger down; tonight reminded her too much of her own brush with scandal and she was finding it hard to keep her emotions calm. “No, you don’t. I am getting you mixed up with another drunken fool who shattered a young girl’s naiveté. Forgive me, my emotions are too close to the surface tonight.”
He bowed, kissing her gloved hand. “If Robin hadn’t beaten that shabbaroon to a pulp, I would have shot him. In the bollocks.”
Amelia gasped and looked to see if anyone was close enough to hear, then snapped her fan against his arm. “Jameson, really!” But she ascended the stairs in a much better mood.
Jameson and Lady Beckham entered first, followed by Robin and Amelia. The loud and boisterous crowd slowly quieted as they descended into the party, but they simply continued towards the Grathams.
The quiet rankled, but Amelia had walked this battlefield before, and with much higher consequences for failure. Oh, Jameson would feel the sting, but he was a man with a title. An unmarried man with a title and a fortune. Society would be more than willing to overlook his lapse in judgment, if only for the chance to throw their daughters at him again.
The Grathams welcomed all of them warmly, but the fawning was for Jameson. “Oh, Lord Nighting. You honor us with your presence tonight.”
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“Not at all, not at all. You remember my daughter, Lady Gertrude.”
“Of course. I hope you have room on your card, Lady Gertrude.”
Amelia smiled at Jameson and allowed Robin to lead her off. She was glad to know that unmarried men of title had their own punishments after all.
She circulated the room, listening for quiet voices behind fans, whispered giggles, contemptuous looks.
Clarice’s standing had always been in much graver danger than Jameson’s and Amelia had acted accordingly. The girl had no title, small fortune, and few connections—at least when compared to her former fiancé. It would have been natural for society to put themselves in the Earl’s corner and Amelia had worked hard to fight that.
