The Duke’s Daughter - Lady Amelia Atherton: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 3)

by Isabella Thorne

  The actual footman was a young man she didn’t know. He stood nervously as they approached, looking from one to the other.

  Samuel hurried to catch up. “You are a most provoking woman,” he said.

  “And you are a vain and thoughtless man,” Amelia retorted. “Now, what is it you have learned?” She was anxious to find any further clue to the books and cyphers.

  “Very little,” he said. “We have only just arrived in London.”

  Her breath caught for just a moment, and then she turned on the street and said. “We were supposed to be finding out the truth to this business. At any time my uncle could decide I must come home. We cannot dally.”

  “I am aware,” he said.

  “Must I do everything myself?” she asked.

  He laid a hand on her gloved one, aware that she was as tense as he was, perhaps more so with the threat of her uncle over her head. He leaned close and said, “I told you. It is not safe. I would not take you any further if…”

  This was something she could be angry about. She jerked away from him. “I am the one who found the rest of the cypher. Without me you would have been stuck fast,” she hissed under her breath.

  “Hush,” he said softly taking her arm and pulling her close so he could whisper in her ear. “Gossips are everywhere on London streets. Would you shout at me like a common fish wife?”

  The footman helped her into the carriage a little awkwardly and Samuel followed.

  “Thank you Carlton,” Samuel said as he sat down beside her, tapping the roof of the carriage to signal the driver onward. The driver did not at once move, and Samuel tapped again a bit harder.

  “Remember,” he said to her, “We are a young betrothed couple, and if we are to have people believe it is a love match, you must stop looking daggers at me. What is wrong?”

  “You were late,” she said. Lady Amelia Atherton had never in her life waited upon a suitor. They waited upon her: all of them. It irked her pride that he did not. Of course he wasn’t really a suitor.

  “It was unavoidable,” Samuel said without explanation.

  She lifted her chin, and pasted an utterly insincere smile on her face. It was just the sort of bored haughty look she had bestowed on her other suitors when he had interrupted them at the ball. It felt like a kick in the gut.

  Her coolness was grating on him, and more than anything, he wanted to see her smile again. More than that, too much danger was following them for them to be at odds. He directed the driver to the first house of the day.

  “You could have sat across from me,” Amelia groused, trying to edge away from him. She did not try too hard, because his arm was warm against her side and she could smell the soap he had used that morning. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was shining and dark, combed back neatly as she had requested. He had clearly made an effort, which was a surprise.

  “But we are betrothed,” said Samuel, looking over at her. “We can be intimate now.”

  “We can be no such thing,” said Amelia. “We are not truly betrothed and even if we were, decency is still required of us. You are just being deliberately vulgar to upset me, I know it. Why do you say such things?”

  “To see you blush,” said Samuel, simply.

  Amelia did not reply but sat in stony silence When the carriage stopped, the footman Carlton, opened the door to hand them out. She did not recognize the street.

  “I thought we were going to the docks,” she said.

  “No,” he said simply. “We have to look at townhouses while we are out, just so we have something to talk about when we return to your Aunt’s house,” said Samuel. “She would think it odd if we were only gone a few short hours, or if we had nothing to say when we returned.”

  Amelia nodded suddenly uncomfortable. Actually looking at houses together felt entirely too intimate. She felt him watching her assessing her reaction. She fixed her eyes on the townhouse. There were steps up through an archway to the front door, which had stained glass window above it. A quaint balcony with an iron railing graced the second floor. It was not as garish as Charity’s father’s townhouse, but not as plain as Aunt Ebba’s and Uncle Edward’s. It was smaller than Aunt Ebba’s, but it did have a certain charm. It was on a popular street, and Patience’s father’s was not far from here which would be convenient for visiting. It was all a ruse, she reminded herself

  “It is quaint,” she said.

  “A beauty,” he said his eyes locked on her and she gave him her coolest stare. Then he gestured to the house. “Shall we go inside? What do you think?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Think?” she said.

  “Yes. Would you like to live here? I know it is not large, but I think it is quite cozy.” Samuel continued, telling her about the house, and she suddenly wanted to bolt. Thoughts tumbled over one another as she thought of coming home to this house…with him. No. She would not even think such things. He was a common seaman. She was Lady Amelia Atherton. She would not.

  “I think not,” she said tersely. She turned to get back into the carriage and the footman floundered to help her given her sudden change of direction. What should have been done in the cool morning hours was now commencing at midday. The sun was beaming down and the carriage was warm and humid. She snapped out her fan and began waving it vigorously in effort to cool herself.

  The utter domesticity of the task was causing her some distress. Samuel, as usual seemed unaffected. When she got back into the carriage, she put down the fan and tugged at the ties of her bonnet, putting her fingers between her chin and the ribbons to loosen it. Tugging, she realized she had put it into a knot. She struggled with it under her chin where she could not see it. Suddenly it felt very close in the carriage with Samuel beside her.

  “I pity the woman who does marry you, Commander Beresford,” she said. You take nothing seriously. Let us remember that this trip is not to frolic around London looking at houses; it is to find proof of my father’s murder,” Amelia replied, turning her head away from him and staring out the window at the passing scene while she continued to fret with the ribbons.

  Once she cleared her father’s name and found out what had caused his demise, she could go back to the life she loved….to the life of men buzzing around her like bees. She could choose any of them. Her fingers stilled on the ribbons as she thought, And which would be the equal of Commander Samuel Beresford? Who would spar with her instead of running after her like a milksop, begging for crumbs? Who would excite her and fill her thoughts? Who would she find so enjoyable to be with? Who would kiss her like… She shoved that dangerous thought away.

  “I take plenty of things seriously,” Samuel was saying, “But this is a ruse, a game, and I am doing it for entertainment, not for profit. Therefore, I will treat it accordingly.”

  “And me, as well?” She began to work again with the ribbon. It was nigh and truly stuck now.

  “What?”

  “You will treat me as a part of this game?” said Amelia, spinning around to look at him.

  “Well,” said Samuel, one side of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Yes. You are a part of the game. A bit of fun.”

  She started to turn yanking viciously at the hat when his warm hand covered hers, stilling her frantic movement at the ribbons. His fingers found the ribbon at her throat, with careful patience picked at the knot until it was untied. Then he tugged her bonnet completely off and tossed it on the seat beside them.

  “Sir!” she said.

  His face was so close to hers she could see the darkening of his eyes, smell the scent of his cologne. But instead of kissing her, he pressed his lips against the top of her head, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her hair.

  “I have never understood why women insist on wearing extravagant head pieces that cover up one of their most attractive features,” he said.

  “Excuse me, Commander Beresford, that is an expensive hat that you have just tossed off! My hair must be a mess beneath it,” Amelia continued, bringing her h
and up to smooth the strands down. “Unbelievable,” said Amelia, shaking her head. “Are you are going to pretend that our… encounters had no real effect on you? That it was just a part of the ruse? For what purpose? No one was present, but you and I.”

  “Pray tell. Which encounter are you speaking of?” he asked thinking of the several stolen kisses they had shared.

  “Oh you are a cad,” she snapped, swatting him with her fan.

  He snatched at the fan, catching it mid-swing, with lightening quick reflexes, his hand was warm, his face inches from her own. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted, startled or in anticipation, he was not sure. “Do you not think kissing is fun. Oh, you definitely need a reminder,” he said.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and then almost as if she realized what she had said, she scooted as far from him as she could, wedging herself in the corner of the coach. If he kissed her here, in the enclosed carriage, she was not sure she would keep her composure. “I do not believe you. Not for a second.”

  “The Lady has moved,” he said softly. “I think she is not as unaffected by my kisses as she would have me believe.”

  Amelia looked at him wide eyed. How it was that he knew her so well? “I?” she said. “You are the one who walked from the music room.” He was mocking her. She had to remember this was only a ruse. “You are laughing at me now.”

  “Never, Lady Amelia. I would never laugh at you. You are elegance and passion in equal measure, surely you do not think me one to pass up such a ripe opportunity, to kiss a beautiful woman,” he said his lips so close to hers she could almost taste them, and yet he did not kiss her.

  He had called her beautiful, and elegant, and passionate. Her heart did a little flip flop, and kept racing wildly. But it was a ruse. He had never truly offered for her. It was just a lark. “Pray do not be so provoking,” she said jutting her chin out and daring him to challenge her.

  “How so?”

  “Our encounters meant nothing to you,” She said.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked.

  “You are so flippant,” she said.

  “You are the one who could not keep your mind on the kiss…spouting off about books and cyphers.”

  “Oh, what folly has entered my mind? You were only teasing me.”

  “A folly we share,” he said.

  “I only wished to speak of the books….” She started to pull away, and he caught her hand again.

  “See,” he said. “Keep your mind on the matter at hand.”

  “Which matter?”

  “The kissing.”

  “I was not aware that kissing took any great intellect.”

  “On the contrary,” Samuel said again leaning into her. “Anything done well, takes attention.”

  “It doesn’t,” she whispered.

  “You are wrong, Milady; you are so wrong,” His hand tightened on hers and his breath was hot against her lips.

  Amelia gave up fighting him. If he thought her straggling hair becoming, she would not disillusion him. He tipped her face to his. He did kiss her then, and she thought of nothing but his lips on hers. Heat fluttered through her. This was madness, she thought. This was folly for she feared Commander Samuel Beresford had taken her fancy to an alarming degree.

  When the carriage rolled to a stop, she searched futilely for her discarded bonnet. Samuel found it and placed it on her rumpled curls, tying it gently beneath her chin.

  Samuel adjusted the bow, just so, to the side of her face, as carefully as a serving maid would do, and she had the sudden feeling that he had tied another girl’s bonnet after kissing her. Anger filled her. She had no right to be angry, she told herself.

  They were not truly engaged, but he keeps kissing me, she thought. And you keep letting him, the contrary voice of her conscience said. “I am Lady Amelia Atherton,” she told herself. “I am not some common woman he can toy with. I have to find my dignity. I have to pull myself together and stop letting his kisses affect me so. I shall at this very moment. How dare he think he can just kiss me whenever he likes! She summoned a sense of outrage and held on to it.

  Commander Beresford let go of her hand, straightened his jacket and stood. He jumped out of the carriage and held out a hand to help her descend. When she had recovered herself, she took his hand. She wished she could stomp away, but if she fell in the mud in the street she could not be very convincingly angry.

  She found that her heart was fluttering and she had trouble concentrating on disembarking. She nearly lost her footing, but his strong arms held her steady as the footman came forward somewhat belatedly to attend the carriage door.

  “Concentrate, Lady Amelia, on the task at hand,” he quipped, once again glib.

  How could he be so intense one moment and back to levity the next? At last Amelia was beginning to understand. In the past weeks she had gained some insight into the mind of Commander Beresford, and she saw that he viewed life as a game but his flippancy was the ruse. He rarely showed his true feelings. She found she recognized the sensation; until recently she had done the same. She had been called cold. It had caused those she cared about to doubt her affections.

  His gaze fixed on her, unwavering, as she exited the carriage, as if his face was nothing more than a mask set in place. It was the still visage of the Commander that allowed his men to read nothing of his heart, like the surface of the ocean, hiding the depths, only she now saw the truth.

  She smiled sweetly at him as he held her hand. “You want the world to think you are a heartless rake, Commander Beresford, but I think, you are also ….not unmoved.”

  He was looked at her then, as none of the foppish men in her circle had looked at her. Samuel Beresford truly saw her. She found she could not still her racing heart as she alighted from the carriage.

  Samuel took her hand and tucked it possessively around his elbow. They stepped out onto a quiet street. The houses were modestly sized but quite attractive. A four storied house, the stucco a pale shade of pink, caught her eye.

  “Well, this one is charming,” said Amelia, gazing up at it. There were small balconies fenced in with wrought iron on the second level, and a quaint motif above the door. It was no less respectable than Aunt Ebba’s townhouse, just scaled down a bit. “What do you think of it?”

  “Garish. How do you like that one?” Samuel gestured to a house two doors over from the pink stucco. It was a muted shade of grey, with none of the decorative elements that made the other one so lovely.

  Amelia shook her head. “Boring. Do you not have an ounce of style, Commander Beresford? You will not want to come home to that. It does not say welcome like this one does. Imagine it, returning from a long naval campaign. Halfway down the street you could see this house, windows aglow, and know that you were home.”

  She was still gazing up at the house as she spoke, but when she glanced over at Samuel and saw him studying her with an intense look on his face, her cheeks heated. Where had that come from, asking him to imagine their life together? Their engagement was still a pretense. Amelia dropped her gaze to the uneven paving stones. He stepped up behind her and took her hand, waiting until she looked up at him to speak.

  “I can imagine it, Lady Amelia Atherton. Can you?” he said, voice husky with emotion.

  Amelia’s throat was dry, her palms sweating beneath her kid-skin gloves. She looked to Samuel, then back at the house.

  “I can,” she said, barely more than a whisper.

  Samuel grinned. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Not at this house, of course. Ugly thing,” he said with a dramatic flair as they walked arm in arm to the carriage.

  They had to wait a moment while the tardy footman jumped forward to open the door for them.

  She shook off the domestic feeling as the carriage pulled away from the townhouse. It’s only a ruse, she told herself. She was getting caught up in the fiction of their affair. She had to remember why she was in London. “Why did we not go to the docks?” she
asked. “I thought we were only viewing townhouses as an artifice? What about my father?”

  “I am already investigating it,” he said enigmatically.

  “I don’t see it,” she countered. “You thought there would be some contraband. It is all well and good, to make an excuse for our carriage ride today, but we are not in truth purchasing a townhouse.” She wondered why saying those words aloud caused a tremor in her soul. “It’s only a pretense,” she said, trying to convince herself.

  “We cannot go to the docks,” he said. “It is not a section of town a lady would frequent. You would have vapors.”

  “I do not have vapors,” she said.

  “Then I suppose I merely imagined your fainting; perhaps I simply dreamed of you in my arms.” His eyes were twinkling in jest.

  So it was Samuel who carried her to her room after she fainted in her Father’s study. The thought made her blush. “Pray, do not tease me further,” she said.

  “I shall not; I certainly can see the cause of your distress, but we would not buy a house there,” he argued. “There is no reason for us to go down by the docks.”

  “Then we shall have to pretend to be lost.”

  “I do not get lost,” he said.

  “You are a sailor,” Amelia said sweetly. “Would you not like a home close to the port?”

  “I would not live there,” he said coolly. “Certainly you would not. It’s a warehouse district. The houses there are barely more than hovels. We would be mad to look for accommodation there, and as many things as the Ton may think of us, no one would think us mad.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “And yet, people will believe you are stretching your funds beyond their limits to keep your new bride happy,” said Amelia. “Is that not mad?”

  He looked at her suddenly serious. “Is that the sort of thing you would require? The nicest house on the nicest street and the most expensive furnishings? Grandiose parties every night?” he asked. “Would that be necessary to your happiness?”