by Megan Bryce
But the opposite held just as true. He knew all her faults, her eccentricities, her bad tempers. He even knew how to get her out of them.
She smiled again. Then frowned. Then smiled.
There was a happy little place in her heart that she didn’t want to look at too closely. To know that someone knew her that well and still liked her, knew all the dark recesses that were hidden from public view and still chose her? Not her money, not her connections, but her.
And she knew his. All his dark secrets, all his fears. And she still chose him day after day. Perhaps not as a husband, because the idea was just silly, but she still had chosen him as her friend through more drama than either of them would care to admit. He was right, it was heady knowing someone knew you and still loved you.
She had always loved Jameson. She had grown up trailing him and Robin around and couldn’t remember a time without him. But for the first time she felt that just maybe there could be something more than brotherly love. The thought of marrying him was not quite so distasteful this morning.
Yesterday she had seen a future with a man who knew her so well he took her to a cattle market and let her scream at him.
A cattle market!
Wasn’t that just the most imbecilic thing she had ever heard of.
But the damn smile just would not go away and she spent the day in as good a mood as she’d ever been.
After a full day to herself, she felt sufficiently recovered to resume her normal activities. Her throat and her mood had so improved that she happily received callers and she greeted the brothers Underwood with a smile. In the few short weeks since the fiasco, she had become the problem solver for their little family. She had become quite used to giving opinions and advice on varying subjects and had enjoyed being listened to so intently. The brothers Underwood were quite happy not to have any decision at all to worry about; it went without saying that Amelia enjoyed her role just as much.
And while they might have come to harangue her over Jameson’s proposal and what it meant for Clarice, she doubted it. They weren’t emotionally sophisticated enough for that.
Amelia invited them to sit but they shook heads in unison.
“Lady Amelia, we have something to ask you.”
“Something that might surprise you.”
“But we hope you will not be too surprised.”
“Did anyone bring smelling salts?”
Amelia chuckled. “I can not imagine you have anything so surprising to ask I will require smelling salts. You did come to me with a question about breeding dogs.”
They nodded. “She does have an iron stomach.”
“Can’t ask for much more in a wife.”
“Well, don’t just blurt it out!”
“You’ve got to ask first!”
Amelia sat back. This was a surprise. She’d had no proposals in weeks and had hardly expected one to come from this corner. She watched in fascination as they began.
“Lady Amelia, we know that your exalted station is far above ours.”
“Yet we hope that the warm feelings we hold for you makes that irrelevant.”
“We can provide a respectable home, and you may be assured that all our efforts will go toward your happiness.”
“We most humbly ask for your hand in marriage.” And they all bowed to her.
Amelia silently looked from one brother to another, wrapping her brain around this new development, then said, “I just want to be clear, which one of you is proposing?”
They all blinked as if coming out of a trance, then looked between themselves. “That’s a good question.”
“Hadn’t thought of it before.”
“There is only one of her, and four of us.”
“She seems like more.”
They looked back at Amelia, perhaps making sure there was indeed only one, then huddled together.
“Well, which one of us?”
“Maybe the eldest?”
One of the boys held a hand to his chest and looked quite startled. Amelia could only assume he was the eldest.
“What if we draw straws?”
“I second the straws!”
They turned to her in unison.
“You wouldn’t have four straws of varying lengths available, would you?”
“Or pencils, sticks, bits of something?”
“Dice?”
“Dice could work.”
Amelia had always thought her proposals had been the byproduct of too much drink and a lucky throw of the dice. Perhaps she had been flattering herself and it had always been an unlucky throw of the dice that landed her prospective bridegrooms at her feet. It was perhaps even more entertaining watching it play out in front of her. It was also slightly more insulting.
But it had always been her policy to let each proposal play itself out; one never knew the direction it would go and she had rarely been disappointed at the absurdity.
She wasn’t sure any proposal could ever top this one.
She rose, heading to a small writing desk. “I shall cut paper into varying degrees of lengths. Will that work?”
Four blonde heads nodded. “Capital, capital.”
“Quite sporting of you.”
“Don’t know why they call you the dragon, really. I don’t feel as if my life is in the balance.”
“No, me neither. Perhaps we’ve tamed the dragon, eh?”
Amelia turned at the last and found them nodding between themselves, looking surprised and self-satisfied at the same time.
She couldn’t quite decide if she thought this funny or exhausting. They were right, though. She was going much too easy on them.
But she had spent so much time in their company since the fiasco she couldn’t find it in herself to play rough. They were just quite too amusing and simple to really make it an adventure.
She sighed. “Gentlemen. I have no intention of marrying any or all of you. We may continue with the game or you may leave now, the only suitors to not feel my burn or bite. I leave it to your discretion.”
They looked between themselves. “Not going to marry us?”
“Not any of us? I thought with four our odds would have been better.”
“Were we playing a game? Straws, was it?”
“I was looking forward to telling everyone we had tamed the dragon. What a coup that would have been, eh?”
Amelia found her fighting spirit rise on the last statement and she stared down the boy as only an earl’s daughter could. It took a moment for him to notice she had singled him out, but he took a step back and the color drained from his face when he saw her full attention focused on him.
“Would it have been? Would you have liked to have gone to your club as heroes, collected on the bet, been patted on the back by greater men than yourselves?” She walked slowly around them and they all turned to follow, not wanting her to get behind them.
“And my dowry? What a grand time you would have had spending my money on waistcoats, to be sure. Do you think I would gladly hand over my money to you four? Do you think you could have spent it with no input from me?”
She placed her face inches from one pale, sweaty face. She said softly, “Do you think it likely I would turn into a sweet, biddable wife after the magic wedding ceremony? Or do you think instead that months down the road you would find you had indeed made a deal with the devil? Think carefully. Do you really want to tame me? Do you really think you could?”
The poor boy opened his mouth and a squeak fell out. The others shifted toward him, their hands reaching out to comfort him, perhaps catch him if he fainted. At least they were not leaving the one she had singled-out to hang. They were all in this together.
They took a collective step back and she let them. She stared into the boy’s eyes, not blinking. It was rather like staring down a dog, showing who was in charge, who had the power. Who had the biggest teeth. In this case, there was no contest, and both players knew it. He seemed to shrink in on himself and the others supported h
im as they continued to take slow steps backward.
They fumbled at the door but still said not a word as she continued to stare down the poor boy. When they finally made it out and line of sight was broken, she continued to stare at the spot he had been.
She could not find any amusement in this proposal. No laughter bubbled out of her, no triumph filled her from beating a worthy opponent. She felt tired.
Nine years ago she’d been targeted by a fortune hunter. And every proposal since, she had imagined it was him she was beating into dust. He was now nameless, placeless. To threaten an earl’s daughter was stupidity itself. She doubted he would ever set foot in England again. And still she hated him.
But the brother Underwood she had just shaken had been nothing like him. No small part of him had the meanness she despised. Oh, he was selfish, no doubt. But not mean.
No, she felt no triumph in this victory.
She felt drained. She felt beaten.
She walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. And even though the sun still shone, she went to her room, laying wearily on the bed, and slept until morning.
Seven
Jameson and Robin arrived for dinner the next night. Jameson gave her ear a small sniff going in. “Just seeing if you’ve recovered yet from our little escapade.”
She sniffed. “Yes, although it was not without some loss of dignity. And you?”
He held his arms wide. “You’re welcome to test me.”
She gave him an arch look. “And your valet? Has he recovered?”
“Should he eventually recover, I think it unlikely he will ever forgive me. I’ve been forced to order an obscene amount of clothing to placate him.”
“An expensive outing.”
“You’ve no idea. However, to see your smiling face is all the thanks I need.” He smiled charmingly at her.
She looked at him, surprised. “Am I smiling?”
“My dear, any expression less murderous than what you were previously directing at me I will consider happy and carefree.”
She laughed. “Then you may consider it successful; kindly do not upset me quite so violently again. I have no desire to revisit the Smithfield cattle market ever again.”
He looked crestfallen, then rallied. “I thought it unlikely I could ever get you there again. I shall have to find another destination; that will be easier than keeping you happy.”
She pursed her lips and turned toward her dinner. “You mean easier than restricting yourself to socially acceptable behavior.”
“That, too.”
It took only a whispered word from Jameson to her mother to clear the room after dinner. Lady Beckham absconded with Robin and Amelia was left alone with the reprobate.
She nodded at his offer of a drink and he turned to fill their glasses. “My mother is on your side, I see.”
“I can’t decide if she thinks me a good candidate for son-in-law, or if she thinks it unlikely you will ever accept so why not play along, or if at this point any bachelor would get her help in getting you married. In any case, I will accept any assistance from her. Or anyone, really.”
“I did wonder at cook’s choices for this evening. All my favorite dishes. Was that to put me in a good mood?”
He threw a smile over his shoulder. “Noticed, did you? I can’t even take the credit. Your mother did that on her own.”
“Hmm. I don’t like this collusion between you two. At least Robin is not in on it.”
“I don’t know what you did to the boy but he will not hear a word about it. And I, his closest friend.”
He handed her a drink and she nodded her thanks. “I had to make it clear early on that he was not to interfere in such matters. It would have become too much for either of us.”
“Well, he is heeding your word. I’m surprised your mother was able to get him to quit the room so easily. Don’t give him too much grief for it.”
She smiled slightly. “No. He has always been the dutiful son; mother could get him to do anything. It is lucky for me she does not abuse the power.”
“Lucky for him, I suspect. Was your mother anymore like you, poor Robin would be trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.”
She laughed self-reproachfully. “And this is what you wish to marry? Perhaps you should put this fanciful notion out of your head and consider yourself lucky I did not accept.”
“My dear, I would be the luckiest of men if you accepted my proposal, despite your sharp tongue. I wish you would reconsider it. You would keep me in line and I would keep you entertained. What more are you looking for?”
“I don’t know what I am looking for. I had thought I would recognize it when I saw it.”
“I recognize what I want, what I need. I need a woman I could never disgrace. My dear, the shabbaroon tried with all fervor and could not succeed. His actions would have toppled other women and you did not even flinch. I could never humiliate you unwittingly as my father did my mother. Among other things, I would be too scared to.”
“You are very unflattering, Jameson.”
He knelt at her feet, his hands resting on her knees. “That was a most sincere compliment, my dear. You have such fire, such passion. It tires me to even think of living as determined as you do. No one would ever harm you, you wouldn’t allow it.” He rested his head where his hands had lain. “You would burn away my fear.”
Amelia ignored the tumult in her stomach at his closeness. And she tried to ignore his pretty words and the sadness behind it.
She had always been his friend, and as such had always done what was best for him, no matter if it was what he wanted or what the cost would be.
She had always loved him; it would be no hardship for her to marry him. He cared for her. They were familiar and comfortable with each other. That was more than most marriages had.
She sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “I’m tired of the game, Jameson. We’re both tired of being chased. You for your title, fortune, and pretty face—never mind your bad habits. And me for my fortune, family, and the challenge—never mind my reputation.”
“You exaggerate your reputation, my dear.”
She lifted his head and looked him directly in the eye, a hint of temper peeking through. “I know about the bet at White’s. I’ve known for years.”
Jameson shook his head. “Some woman is going to have to tame that mouth of your brother’s one of these days. But even with that bet no man would shackle himself for life without some bit of optimism.”
“You wound me. I know what optimism they carry for me. I’m only a great catch on paper.”
“As am I.”
“Well, you do have your face to recommend you as well.”
“And you are too hard on yourself. I personally like sharp teeth and smoke coming out of the nostrils.”
“Is this your idea of wooing? I’m surprised you found any girl to marry you at all.”
“My dear, would you like for me to play the besotted beau? I hadn’t thought you enjoyed that overmuch.”
She shook her head. “No. But I’m thinking you have the right of it.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Your stupid idea, while still stupid, might work to both our advantages.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not quite following you.”
“I’ll marry you.”
“Oh, that stupid idea. Well, thank you, my dear. I accept your acceptance.”
“Don’t make me change my mind again.”
He sat for a moment at her feet. “I didn’t just imagine that, did I?”
She laughed. “No.”
He jumped to his feet and rushed out the door. “I need witnesses! Come quick before she changes her mind!”
Amelia laughed and rose to follow him. She could be sure of only one thing by marrying Jameson—boredom would never be her companion.
Her mother had been quite unsurprised by their impending nuptials, only kissed them both and wished them a happy
congratulations. Robin had stared at them blankly before patting Jameson on the shoulder and taking a long drink. Which he’d coughed back out when Jameson had said, “Can I tell her now, old chap, that I have your ble—”
He’d spent the next few minutes thumping Robin on the back and Amelia had let it pass. Her brother looked sufficiently befuddled that any blessing wrung from him must have been under duress. And obviously with the assumption that she would never accept Jameson’s hand. Since she’d felt the same until only recently, she merely gave his wild-eyed look a small smile and offered him another drink.
He’d only looked more horrified, which had made her smile even more, which had made him even more horrified, and it went on and on until Jameson had rolled his eyes and said, “Amelia, really.”
She thought it highly unfair that it was he who was ending her fun. But he’d only laughed when she glared at him. He’d said, “I am highly immune to that look, my lovely, blushing bride. Do you have anything else in your repertoire?”
But that had been yesterday and today she insisted on negotiating her marriage contract. Had anyone really thought she would leave it all to the men?
Oh, the money would be taken care of. Robin was extremely conservative and would make sure she was well-provided for. Not to mention Jameson had merely waved him off with a “I’ve taken your advice on financial matters for years, old chap; just give me the thing to sign. And make sure you bugger me in favor of Amelia. I do not want to start this marriage worrying about a knife in my back.”
Amelia had thought it quite prudent of him.
But there were other matters that needed attending to that wouldn’t be in the legal papers.
“I think it highly unlikely I will be able to either obey or serve you, and we should both go into this thing accepting that.”
Jameson snorted. “Agreed. Next.”
“I also think it highly unlikely you will be able to forsake all others as long as we both shall live. I do know that most, if not all, men keep a mistress. As long as you are discreet I won’t question you.”
“No.”
He looked furious. Gravely insulted, and to tell the truth, a little murderous.
“Not all men, Amelia. I won’t be one of them. I’d think we’d both know the consequences of that.”
