by Cheryl Holt
Barbara was assessing Amelia with a keen eye, as if considering her for a whole new purpose. Suddenly, she smiled and said, “I have the most marvelous idea.”
“What is it?”
“First, tell me what Lord Sidwell offered you as an enticement to wed.”
“An estate in Surrey with a good income.”
“So...he’d like Lucas to be a gentleman farmer?”
“Well...yes.”
“I can’t see it, can you?”
“No.”
“But I suppose anything is possible.”
“I suppose,” Amelia concurred, not thinking so at all.
“To own such a property, it would be a huge boon for you, wouldn’t it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even if you wed Lucas, and he trotted off and left you, you’d have an excellent home. You could remain in the country where you’d be stable and safe.”
“That’s not much of an inducement to me. I couldn’t bear to have a philandering husband.”
“Yes, but would you like to have your own home?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Trust me, I’ve struggled in my life to keep a roof over my head, and you shouldn’t discount such a gift.”
“If it comes with a scoundrel like Lucas Drake as part of the package,” Amelia responded, “it might be a Trojan-horse kind of gift. There might be no benefit to receiving it.”
“Or you might get lucky. You might make Lucas fall in love with you. He might become so smitten that he would never leave.”
Amelia laughed. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I’m not.” Barbara assessed Amelia again, and her gaze was shrewd and cunning. “This is what I propose.”
“What?”
“I’ve been so bored. I could use a new project.”
“What project?”
“We should scheme on Lucas Drake and coerce him into marrying you.”
“I thought you wanted a project, not a miracle.”
“You’d be surprised what conclusions I can arrange,” Barbara boasted. “You asked my advice about your predicament, and here it is: You need to convince Lucas Drake to wed you so you can force Lord Sidwell to sign over the estate he promised.”
“I don’t know, Barbara.” Amelia sighed. “It sounds too fantastic, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“It’s a grand idea. I’m much older and more experienced than you, and I’ve learned the hard way what you must do to protect yourself and secure your future. And that is what we shall do. We shall get you protected. After you’re situated, Lucas can jump off a cliff for all I care.”
“How would we even start?”
“I’ll take you under my wing. We’ll begin by removing you from Lord Sidwell’s custody and control.”
“Where would I go?”
“You’ll stay with me.”
“You’re mad. I couldn’t impose on you.”
“You’re not imposing. I’ve invited you, haven’t I? You’re also forgetting that your brother is a friend of mine, so it’s all very proper. Don’t whine.”
“All right, I won’t.”
“You can settle in, then we’ll work on your wardrobe and your feminine wiles.”
“My feminine wiles?” Amelia asked. “I don’t believe I have any.”
“I’ll give you some of mine.” Barbara winked. “I have plenty, so I’m happy to share. By the time I’m through with you, Lucas Drake will be begging you to wed.
“Begging?” Amelia skeptically asked.
“Yes, down-on-one-knee, pleading, anxious, begging for your hand. He won’t know what hit him.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“Don’t be. You look fabulous.”
Amelia smiled a tremulous smile at her new friend and benefactress, Barbara Middleton.
It was amazing how a chance meeting on a garden bench could render such swift and head-spinning changes.
Barbara had whisked her out of Lord Sidwell’s house, and he’d scarcely argued about it—as if he’d been relieved to have her take charge of Amelia. She’d been transported to Barbara’s home and ensconced in a comfortable bedchamber. Then Barbara had begun the task of altering Amelia into someone she really wasn’t.
For the prior three days, Amelia had been plucked and massaged and measured and trimmed. Seamstresses had arrived to modify some of Barbara’s old clothes. She and Amelia were close in height, but Barbara was more voluptuous, so there’d been extensive snipping and tucking.
Amelia wasn’t certain how she felt about the whole affair. Her circumstances were no more settled than they had been. She was living with another stranger, although Barbara was much more pleasant than Lord Sidwell, but Amelia was being treated like a pet, as if groomed to prance about on the end of a leash.
Lord Sidwell had extracted Amelia’s promise that she’d spend a month trying to entice Mr. Drake, and she would honor that vow. But after the month had passed, what would become of her? Though Barbara had been kind and generous, Amelia scarcely knew her, so she was in no position to overstay her welcome.
Amelia was coasting on Barbara’s charity and pretending there was no deadline looming. What she would do when that deadline arrived was anybody’s guess.
She’d written to Rose and Evangeline, telling them what had happened, but she hadn’t heard back from either one. They appeared to have vanished, and she wondered how she’d ever contact them again. She’d hoped they might provide assistance later on, after Barbara was through with her, but if Amelia couldn’t locate them, she’d be in even deeper trouble.
So what was Amelia thinking? She’d always viewed herself as smart and pragmatic, but she was making wild, irrational decisions, flitting from one idea to the next without pausing to ponder what was best.
After all their extensive preparation, Barbara had declared Amelia ready for a public entrance. They were riding in a carriage, and it rumbled to a halt. The footmen were lowering the step as Amelia tugged on the curtain and peeked out at the large mansion towering over them.
“Are you sure Mr. Drake will be here?” Amelia asked.
“I ordered my son, John, to include him on the guest list.”
“He can be so obstinate. Will he show up?”
“I expect he will. John and Lucas’s brother, Aaron, were school chums, and Lucas is always broke. He’ll come just to eat the food and drink the liquor.”
“What a sad comment on the state of his life.”
“It’s common enough for men of his station. I survived for years by letting other people feed me.”
Barbara was a notorious figure in London. As a young bride and mother, she’d deserted her husband and baby, had fled to the Continent with a lover who’d promptly abandoned her. Then she’d engaged in a series of infamous affairs, moving from country to country and making a spectacle of herself wherever she went.
Finally, after nearly three decades of wandering, she’d traveled back to England, and after a rough patch, had been welcomed by her son, John Middleton, Lord Penworth. She probably wasn’t the most appropriate person to introduce Amelia into London society, but then again, Barbara was shameless and brazen, and she was teaching those traits to Amelia so Amelia could use them on poor, unsuspecting Lucas Drake.
She supposed she should have shunned Barbara, and in saner times, she would have. In saner times, they would never have crossed paths. Yet Barbara had offered to help, and Amelia was desperate. Her only other option was to return to Lord Sidwell’s home, to stagger around after him for a month, but that hardly seemed the way to accomplish any goal.
The carriage door swung open, and as they climbed down, Amelia surreptitiously pulled at the neckline of her gown. It was a luxurious garment, like nothing she could ever have imagined owning. Bright red in color, it shimmered when she walked so she glowed. She looked rich and beautiful in it, but it exposed a significant portion of flesh, and
she was suffering from a constant urge to find a shawl and cover herself.
Barbara noticed her fussing with the fabric and scolded, “Stop worrying about your bodice. Your breasts are your best attributes, Amelia. You shouldn’t hide them.”
“I feel undressed.”
“Don’t think about it. Think instead about how Lucas’s jaw will drop when he realizes it’s you.”
Amelia was curious if he’d recognize her. With her hair elaborately styled, and her gown highlighting her curves and valleys, there was very little about her that resembled the mousy, prim schoolteacher he’d met at Sidwell Manor.
“I have a surprise for you,” Barbara mentioned once they were on the stairs leading into the mansion.
“What is it?”
“I believe I’ve located your brother.”
“Oh, Barbara, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in years.”
“He should visit us tomorrow.”
“I’m so thrilled to hear it.”
Amelia was overwhelmed with gladness and—right in the middle of the majestic foyer—she hugged Barbara with all her might.
“Thank you—for everything.”
“You’re welcome. And quit thanking me. It’s getting annoying. Besides, I’m having the time of my life. I haven’t been this amused since I schemed on my son so he’d marry my daughter-in-law, Lily.”
They were being swept along with the crowd toward the ballroom. Orchestra music wafted out, and Amelia struggled to affect a jaded demeanor, to not gawk at the opulent surroundings.
It was interesting how a fancy garment could change her status. No one ordered her to fetch any champagne! People were staring at Barbara—their host’s scandalous mother—but they were also trying to figure out the identity of Barbara’s companion. Amelia’s expression was blank and bored, but she definitely noted how men’s eyes gleamed with approval.
Their admiration imbued her with a confidence she hadn’t previously possessed. This was her father’s world, the one that had been denied to her. Why shouldn’t she make a grand entrance? Why shouldn’t she be welcomed by her father’s peers?
She and Barbara were announced, and heads turned, a sea of faces gazing up at them. Many lifted their glasses in toast to Barbara. She took it all in as her due—as if she were the queen rather than a disgraced vixen. Amelia watched Barbara carefully, hoping some of her aplomb would rub off.
They’d reached the ballroom floor, and Barbara leaned in and whispered, “Don’t forget what I told you about your fan. Look mysterious. Keep your wrist flexible.”
“I will.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Barbara beamed. “Have fun, darling.”
“I plan on it.”
Amelia was escorted about, introduced, asked to dance, asked to dine, asked to share a glass of punch. She accepted every offer, particularly the dancing. At Miss Peabody’s school, she’d been taught all the steps, but had had scant opportunity to ever perform them.
She was having a perfect time, feeling like Cinderella, but hours had passed, and there was no sign of Mr. Drake.
After a brisk set of dancing, she slipped away and went out onto the rear verandah. Far down from the main party, a parlor was lit, the windows open to let in the cool evening air.
She wandered down, and to her surprise, Mr. Drake was there, seated at a harpsichord and singing a very raucous, very risqué tune. There was a small group gathered around—Nanette Nipton among them—and they were very merry, laughing, joining in on the choruses. Mrs. Nipton was very proprietary toward Mr. Drake, standing close, whispering in his ear and occasionally resting a palm on his shoulder.
On seeing him exhibit such a marvelous keyboardist’s skill, Amelia was flabbergasted. She’d viewed him as an obstinate, rude dunce but, apparently, he had a positive quality, that being a very fine musical talent.
She couldn’t imagine how he’d ever focused long enough to acquire it, and for a lengthy interval she observed him. Ultimately, he finished with a flamboyant whisk of his fingers across the keys and declared himself parched and ready to imbibe. His audience had been gaily entertained, and they clapped their appreciation. He stood and bowed with a flourish.
Clearly, there were facets to his personality she hadn’t considered. Maybe he wasn’t a complete wretch. Maybe he had a few attributes that might make him worth knowing.
She wandered away, ambling down the verandah to return to the party. Before she reached the door, a man emerged, and she was unnerved to discover it was Mr. Drake. He was alone, Mrs. Nipton nowhere in sight.
He walked to the stairs as if he would proceed down into the garden. His path took him directly by her, and she braced, recognizing that this was the exact sort of encounter for which Barbara had been preparing her.
Amelia flicked her wrist, her fan whipping open precisely on cue. She waved it slowly, then started toward him. He nodded a greeting, not really seeing her, and she murmured, “Hello, Mr. Drake. Fancy meeting you here.”
He frowned, stumbled to a halt, and whirled around. He appeared greatly confused.
“Miss...Hubbard?”
“Yes?”
Evidently, she’d rendered him speechless. He searched for something to say, but couldn’t decide what it should be. Eventually, almost in accusation, he snarled, “What happened to you?”
“What happened?” she innocently replied. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play games with me, Miss Hubbard. You’re wearing a very expensive gown, and your hair is...” He was at a loss to describe her intricate coif, so he simply pointed at it. “What have you done to yourself?”
“I’m attending Lord Penworth’s ball, Mr. Drake. I could hardly come looking like a pauper.”
“You are a pauper, and I know my father. He’s much too miserly to have bought you any clothes.”
She chuckled and cooled her face with the fan. “No, he definitely didn’t buy me any clothes.”
“So where did you get them?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business. We’re not affianced. In fact, we’re not connected in any way at all, so you have no right to inquire, and you certainly have no duty to worry.”
“Are you still my father’s guest?”
“No.”
She moved away as if she’d continue on, but to her delight and amazement, he rested a hand on her arm to stop her.
“Where are you staying then?”
“With a...friend.”
“What friend?”
“Again, Mr. Drake, it really isn’t any of your business.”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed, “but you’re so naïve and unsophisticated.”
“If you keep complimenting me like that, I’ll get a big head.”
“You’re strolling around by yourself. You’re a lamb among the wolves.”
“Yes,” she grinned, “and I’ve met some very handsome, very rich wolves too. I’m having the night of my life.”
“Husband hunting, are you?”
“Absolutely,” she concurred, and she wasn’t lying. He was the husband she was hunting. He just didn’t realize it.
He pulled her nearer, and it was thrilling to stand next to him. He exuded a stimulating energy that charged the air—as if sparks might ignite.
“Where are you staying?” he demanded again, his voice low and urgent. “Who is this new...friend of yours?”
“Lord Penworth’s mother. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
He actually gasped. “You’re staying with Barbara Middleton?”
“Yes, and she’s teaching me everything she knows.”
His jaw dropped, as Barbara had hoped it would, and if Amelia hadn’t been working so diligently to seem calm and unaffected, she’d have laughed at his reaction.
“You can’t associate her!” he hissed.
“Why not?”
“She’s notorious. You’ll ruin your reputation.”
“Well, it’s mine to ruin, isn’t it? You declined our enga
gement, so it’s not as if I have any prospects.”
“But Barbara Middleton! Are you insane?”
“No. I’m having quite an enormous amount of fun.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Miss Hubbard.”
“Don’t say anything. It’s none of your affair if I have friends of whom you don’t approve.”
“You’re racing down a very bad road.”
“Yes, and I expect I’ll crash before it’s all through.”
He studied her, assessing her dress, his hot attention focused on her bared bosom.
“What happened to the schoolteacher you were last week?” he asked.
“She was too boring. I buried her.”
“I believe, Miss Hubbard, that you’ve gone stark raving mad.”
“Yes. Isn’t it grand?”
She stepped in even closer so the front of her body was pressed to his for the briefest second. The charged air surrounding them sizzled with a heated intensity.
“It was lovely to see you,” she said, “but I’m very busy, and I must be off.”
She sauntered away, but she could feel his eyes locked on her bottom, and she bit down another grin. Barbara insisted men were thick creatures, and she was right. Amelia had simply exposed too much flesh, and Mr. Drake was bumbling like an idiot.
“Miss Hubbard!” he snapped from behind her.
“What?” She threw him a lazy look over her shoulder.
“You haven’t heard the end of this.”
“The end of what?”
“You have no father to guide you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“So...as your prior fiancé, I must warn you of the dangers you’re facing in befriending Barbara.”
“I understand the dangers, Mr. Drake,” she blithely quipped. “Barbara explained them all, so you needn’t fret about me. I’m fine.”
She swept inside without glancing back.
* * * *
“Is she at home?”
“Yes, Mr. Drake, she’s at home.”
