They would need to go to London. Aunt Ebba would help; Amelia was sure of it. It would be difficult to go to London now, with her current financial problems and her uncle dogging her every farthing, but she would persevere. Her uncle would not allow it, especially if she was a woman alone, and she could not take Patience into danger…but… A plan began to take form in her mind. Her uncle need not be the man responsible for her in London, if Samuel would agree.
~.~
Chapter Five
Amelia slept fitfully and awoke early. Thankfully, Aunt Ebba was still asleep. She had dodged all of Aunt Ebba’s attempts to pin her down about the time she was spending with Commander Beresford. She could not miss the knowing looks Aunt Ebba threw her way whenever Amelia was speaking to him. Her aunt was reading far too much into the situation, but perhaps that too would be useful. Samuel was but a means to ferret out the mystery surrounding her father’s debts and death. He was not a suitor. He was nothing more than a lighthearted distraction, something Amelia had been desperate for since her father had passed away: a distraction and now, a way to find answers. A niggling voice in the back of her mind reminded her of those stolen kisses, but Samuel had been unaffected by them, she would do no less. She would concentrate on her father.
She went to the music room, but Samuel was nowhere in sight. She had begun to enjoy their early morning conversations, and felt disappointed that he was not there going over his maps. She wanted to share her theory with him.
She consoled herself with music. She concentrated on the piano, on the music. Music was solid. Music settled both her mind and her heart. She played one of father’s favorite concertos by rote, letting her mind wander; remembering when she had thought her father was invincible.
She stopped playing when she finished the piece. She had yet to break her fast, and she heard voices in the morning room: Her aunt, and Patience. She heard a male voice as well, but it was Lord Beresford, not Samuel. Amelia went to join them.
The morning dragged on, and Amelia was still uncertain what to do. She wanted to talk to Samuel and endeavor to convince him to take her to London or at least share with him her work on solving the cypher, but Commander Beresford had not appeared at breakfast. She expected that she could find him, but not with Aunt Ebba and Patience at her side. Finally, Aunt Ebba, Patience, and Lord Beresford had gone out to visit the stable; Amelia begged off.
“You know how horses and hay make me sneeze,” she said. “I will stay in and practice my piano.”
“Amelia,” her aunt began, but Patience laid a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “We will speak later,” Aunt Ebba said giving Amelia a solid stare.
Amelia immediately planned to use the opportunity of privacy to ferret out Samuel’s hiding place and ambush him. She found him, strangely enough, in the music room. She gave him the numbers she had worked out the night before and although he said little, she thought he recognized these numbers as well as the others.
“It is a longitude, is it not?” she asked. “With both latitude and longitude we can go to London and find the culprits that killed my father.”
“You are jumping to conclusions,” Samuel protested.
“You cannot think my father was involved in these machinations by choice!” she said incredulously.
“Keep your voice down,” he warned. “Your aunt will hear you, and wonder what mischief I have done.”
“She is at the stables chaperoning Lord Beresford and Patience.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Her chaperoning skills may be misplaced,” he said.
She blushed prettily and sat at the piano. She ran her fingers lightly over the keys. “I’m sure you will be the perfect gentleman,” she said.
“Whatever have I done to give you that impression,” he asked.
She faltered and hit an off note. Amelia played the piano as she talked, hoping it would muffle the sound of their voices so the servants who may be nearby could not be privy to their conversation. “You know what we must do in order to make this work, I hope?”
Samuel ignored her question. Actually, he enjoyed her playing. In some way the music reminded him of the sea, rising and falling with soothing waves. He was listening. He had his elbows on the desk, head bent, studying a chart.
“Is that the map?” she asked, moving to look annoyingly over his shoulder. “Will it tell us how to find the villains involved?”
“No,” he said dryly. “It is just some promising bit of sea.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “The ships that pass through here are loaded down with valuables, silks and spices and gold.”
“Pirate!” she said and he grinned. She was close enough to kiss. Dare he steal another?
He tapped his fingers on a point on the map, holding his place, and looked up. “Shall we dress all in black then?”
“You mock me, sir,” she said petulantly.
“Never! We should only disguise our faces?” he teased. “Be incognito,” he said, his voice a low purr.
The double meaning of incognito, meaning disguised, and incognita, a lady of loose virtue, made her blush. “You presume too much, sir,” she said haughtily, but she could feel the flame of her face, and looked away. “You are no gentleman,” she said as she went back to the safety of her piano.
He followed her. “Perhaps you guessed my true identity the first time,” he said.
“I do not understand.”
“Perhaps I am a pirate,” he whispered, “seeking to steal this treasure.” He tilted her head back to kiss her. Her hands froze on the keyboard, and she could think of nothing but the kiss, the gentle warmth of him and the movement of his lips on hers. I am captured, she thought.
He released her lips and she could not pick up the threads of their previous conversation. Her fingers automatically moved on the keyboard, picking up the melody of the song she had been composing for the sea… the song for him. In a few moments she could breathe normally again.
At last she remembered what she wanted to say to him. “About the numbers,” she began. “Is it in London?”
“I believe so.”
“In order for us to go to London together…we must be…be…” She struggled to say the words. She had this all planned out last night. It seemed like such a good idea. Why could she not say the words?
“Be circumspect?” Samuel asked.
Amelia shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She could not believe she was the only one to have thought of it, nor that she had to say it aloud. She was a woman. She could not travel to London alone with a man not her relative or her betrothed. He knew that. At least she did not have to look at him as she said it. She looked at the keyboard. Although she rarely had to glance at the keys when she played, she concentrated mightily now.
“We must pretend to be betrothed,” Amelia said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Her face flamed red again. The heat of it felt like a winter hearth against her cheeks. She took a breath and peered at him.
Samuel’s face had gone sheet white, so obvious she could see it from the corner of her eye. She focused even more forcefully down at her fingers, moving over the keys, though she had not the need to look as she played for over ten years now she watched the ivory as if she were a novice.
“Why in heaven’s name should we do such a thing?” He stood and paced away from her. He was incredulous, a note of strain in his voice she had never heard before, as if the idea were beyond his wildest dreams. Or, more likely in his case, nightmares. “Absolutely not. I will not.”
Amelia sighed and paused in her playing. She turned earnestly to him. It was no different than being with Charity and Patience and having to explain every detail of her plans in order for them to make sense to their lesser intellects, only with the girls, she felt much more in control. Now, she felt as if she were walking along one of his ships in a storm. She took the sail in hand and plunged forward.
“I cannot be seen cavorting about London with a bachelor. I have a reputation to maintain, Commander Beresford, and
with the recent… drama surrounding me, people will only be ever more interested in my behavior. We must be betrothed, and perhaps on the pretense of looking for a townhouse in London,” said Amelia, the plan coming together in her mind. “You will propose to me and I will accept, and then we will put out an announcement. Shortly after that, no one will bat an eye when we arrive in London, except to gossip that I have settled sorely below my station.”
Samuel’s mouth was opening and closing, but no words were coming out. If it had not been the idea of marrying her that had struck him dumb, Amelia would have found it amusing. As it was, she was growing offended. Really, all the other men in the world would be jumping for joy at the news and here he was, a mere naval commander, acting as if she had requested he cut off a limb. She went back to playing, her fingers rather aggressively attacking the keys.
“It will be a charade, of course,” said Amelia, practicing playing fortissimo. Her fingers pounded the keys now, taking some of her anger with the sound. “The moment we have our answers, I will call off the engagement.”
“A moment then,” said Samuel, finding his tongue again. He laid his hand on hers. A jolt passed through her. “Why should you be the one to call it off?”
“It would be far more believable if I were to do it. No one will ever believe you, a commander and a second son, would really back out of a marriage to a Duke’s daughter,” said Amelia, hardly believing she had to explain this to him.
“Do not pretend your status has not diminished of late,” said Samuel, crossing his arms over chest. “It makes more sense if I back out because you are too difficult or demanding or full of yourself. Anyone who has ever met you will believe that.”
“Do you say hurtful things without realizing it, or do you do so intentionally?” Amelia asked, stung. She was none of those things. Maybe a little demanding, but she knew that it was the only way to go through life. Being soft gained little. One could see that by looking at Patience…at least that is what she had always told herself.
“I could ask you the same question, but I expect your answer is the same as mine; a little of both,” said Samuel.
Amelia was doubly offended, because it was true, and because he had said so to her face. She lifted her chin.
“It does not matter which one of us breaks it off,” said Amelia, though it was the furthest thing from the truth. “We can work out the details later. I cannot be married while mourning my father in any case. So we need not be rushed, but there is so much to do between that time and now if we would find my father’s killer.”
“You truly think he was killed?”
“I do,” she said. “When should we leave for London?
“Now you are just assuming I will go along with this plan and propose,” said Samuel.
“Is there any other way to do what we need to do? Please, tell me if you know of one, as the last thing I would ever wish for is to be betrothed to you,” said Amelia. “But if there is something in the books which can resolve this mystery and absolve father, I must find it. Surely you see that.”
Samuel looked at her for a moment. He could think of one simple way to solve this problem. He could go to London alone, find out what this business was, and then tell her or not as it suited him, but the pink flush still visible on her face intrigued him. How far was she willing to take this charade? The thought amused him.
Samuel sighed, feigning compliance. “Very well. Should I do it while your aunt is here? And what of your uncle?”
“My uncle?” Amelia said.
“The current Duke of Ely?” he reminded her.
Addressing him so brought a lump to her throat, but she had thought of him, reluctantly, but she had thought of him. “We will have to speak to him while we are in London. I am sure he will have no objections as marrying me off means he has one less issue to deal with. He said as much. As for Aunt Ebba…” Amelia bit her lip. There was no way around it; Aunt Ebba had to be deceived just like everyone else. “We should do it before I return home. Then, we will make the journey to London together.”
Samuel’s impish grin gave tell to the sort of hellion he must have been as a child. “Now that I have warmed to the idea, I think this will be a fine bit of fun before I return to life at sea. Dupe all of London and stir up a scandal? Percival will never forgive me,” he said, with glee.
His wholehearted acceptance of the plan filled Amelia with new doubts. “Please remember the purpose of this charade,” she said. “Do not get carried away.”
Samuel grinned. Oh he had every intention of being carried away, he thought. He crossed the room with his long stride and knelt suddenly by her side. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing it softly. “My heart, my love, it is too late for caution. Your beauty is like an ocean, and I have fallen, surely to drown,” said Samuel, his lips quirked, but somehow he managed to keep a straight face.
Amelia pulled her hand free, her pulse jumping in her throat. The warmth of his lips lingered on her ungloved skin. She could feel the roughened skin of his hand under hers and the touch of his hand was somehow even more sensual than the kiss on her lips.
“It must be believable,” Amelia said, pulling her hand out of his and folding her hands in her lap. “No one would believe that sort of behavior from you.”
Samuel put one hand on the bench Amelia was sitting on and leaned toward her until his mouth was beside her ear. The tickle of his breath made her shiver. “Is this not believable, Amelia? Are you not wooed?”
Amelia’s body was melting toward him, even as her mind attempted to snap her back to her senses. She bolted upright, upsetting the bench with a clatter. Samuel rose smoothly to his feet, his impish grin gone straight to devilish, but she was gratified to see, from the rise and fall of his chest, that he was not entirely immune to his own tricks.
“Announce it tonight,” Amelia said, backing away an extra step, putting a little more space between them so she was not tempted to strike him… Or throw herself into his arms again. “At dinner,” she said again, an edge of steel coming into her voice.
Samuel bowed at the waist. It was a perfect imitation of a polite bow, but filled with mockery, and his eyes never left Amelia’s face. “As you wish, my dear Amelia,” said Samuel purposely dropping her title.
Amelia shook her head at him. “I have not given you leave to use my given name,” she said primly.
“If we are engaged, I think we should be on a first name basis, Melly my dear,” he argued.
No one had called her Melly since she was a child, but scolding him would only let him know that he had gotten to her. “Very well,” she said. “You may call me Amelia when you propose. And comb your hair before you do so, or no one will believe me when I accept.”
She forced herself to walk calmly from the room, but the heat of his gaze on her back made her want to run. Her stomach was filled with fluttering butterflies and she could not stop trembling. What had she done?
~.~
~Part 4 ~
London Reprise
Chapter One
Lady Amelia Atherton outfitted herself in the finest dress she had brought to the Beresford country estate, and wished it was something a little more grand. She had not been expecting an occasion like this, a proposal. Even though she knew it was false, her nerves jittered and her heart raced. The dress was worn over a sarnet slip still black but, gauzy and sheer, and embroidered with black on black flowers at the hem. Puffed sleeves left her arms bare until her gloves began at the elbow. A maid fixed her tortoiseshell comb atop her head, before the mass of curls, and clasped a simple pendant of jet around her neck. There. It was the best Amelia could do as she was still in mourning after the death of her father.
“You look marvelous Amelia,” said Lady Patience, her closest friend, who was also dressed for dinner with the Beresford brothers.
“Thank you, Patience,” said Amelia, turning away from the mirror and taking a deep breath. “As do you. Lord Beresford will be besotted, if he i
s not already so. How goes your flirtation with him? You two have seemed quite taken with each other.”
Patience tugged at her glove and then worried over her hair, which was a bright red with riotous curls. “I do not wish to get my hopes up. He is the son of an Earl. It still seems so… wondrous, that a man like him would ever desire me.”
Amelia patted Patience’s shoulder. “Only because you do not see yourself properly. You are kind and well-bred. Any man would be happy to have you. Come along now, or we will be late to dinner.”
Amelia knew if she did not go down those stairs right that minute she was going to lose her nerve, throw herself down on her bed, and refuse to move. Lord Percival Beresford, eldest son of the Earl of Blackburn and his brother Commander Samuel Beresford were already downstairs in the parlor. Her Aunt Ebba was with them, laughing over something one of them had said. All eyes turned toward Patience and Amelia when they entered the room. If Amelia had not been watching Samuel so carefully, she might have missed the way his eyes widened when he saw her, and the way he had to swallow before he spoke his greeting. He held out his arm to escort her to supper. Patience sat beside her next to Lord Beresford, who had the head of the table. Amelia sat across from Commander Beresford and Patience almost immediately engaged Aunt Ebba in conversation. They had apparently brought in some rose cuttings and were admiring one another’s arrangement of the flowers. The table was indeed impressive with a fine array of dishes.
“The flowers are quite lovely,” Amelia demurred. “I shan’t have the patience to grow such beautiful blooms I am sure,” she said as the footman ladled the artichoke soup.
Patience entreated her to come to her home and practice so that she might cultivate a fine garden.
Amelia was noncommittal. She felt nothing but nerves and exchanged a glance with Commander Beresford who had the temerity to grin at her across the table. She applied herself to cutting her venison into tiny bites, which she pushed around her plate.
The Duke’s Daughter - Lady Amelia Atherton: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 3) Page 13
