by Cheryl Holt
Amelia felt weary and irresponsible and imprudent in her choices and decisions. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d still be atoning for her sins.
“I have to pose a very delicate, very personal question.” Amelia’s cheeks flushed bright red.
“Anything. What is it?”
“You mentioned that you’re...ah...increasing.”
“I am.” Rose grinned. “James is accursedly virile.”
“How did you know James had planted a babe?”
“I didn’t right away. I was having dizzy spells, and then, I started to be ill with nausea in the mornings. He pointed out what was wrong. Before then, I simply figured I was suffering from too much stress.”
“I see.” Amelia peered down at her lap, not certain how to learn what she was desperate to discover.
Rose perceived her embarrassment. “Why are you asking me, Amelia? What are you trying to determine?”
“Well...I’ve heard that when a woman misses her monthlies, it’s an early sign that there’s a babe caught in her womb.”
“It is,” Rose slowly and carefully replied. “What are you saying, Amelia? Are you saying what I think you are?”
Amelia couldn’t look at Rose, could barely utter the words, but she forced herself to spit it out. “Can it happen from just one time? Mr. Drake insisted it couldn’t, but I’m not sure that’s true.”
“It can happen immediately.”
“Oh, no...” Amelia breathed.
“Oh, no...” Rose said too.
“I’m guessing I might need a bit more assistance from you than I assumed.”
“Now you have to marry him, Amelia!” Rose vehemently stated. “You have to, and I won’t listen to any of your nonsense.”
“I could move to a small village,” Amelia countered. “I could pretend to be a widow and that my husband was a soldier who was killed in Spain.”
“You could, but why lie about it? Make him behave as he ought. Please!”
“I can’t, Rose. I can’t! Don’t demand it of me. If I had to beg him to wed me, and he refused after all that transpired—which I’m positive he would—I’d die of shame.”
They stared and stared, lost in misery, awash with regret.
Finally, Rose shook her head. “I’m disgusted that he’s my cousin.”
“You can always claim he’s not,” Amelia lightly said.
“Unfortunately, that’s no longer an option. He has claimed me. He tells people wherever he goes.”
“Poor you.”
“Yes, poor me.”
They stared again, eager to devise a solution that didn’t involve bastardry and illicit fornication, but Amelia’s base conduct guaranteed that this was the only path available to her.
“Will you help me, Rose?” she implored. “It’s awful of me to ask, but I don’t have anywhere to turn.”
“Amelia, as if you have to plead with me! Of course I’ll help. I’ll keep you safe. I swear it.”
“Thank you.”
“What do you need?”
Amelia sighed with relief. For the first time since she’d overheard Mr. Drake with Mrs. Nipton, she felt that things might eventually get better.
“Here’s what I was thinking,” she said. “Here is my plan.”
* * * *
“Mrs. Nipton, this is a surprise.”
“Why would it be? We have business to conclude.”
Claudia Cummings gave an obnoxious smirk, and Nan yearned to walk over and slap it off her face.
“You and I have business?” Mrs. Cummings frowned. “I can’t imagine why you’d assume so.”
“Can’t you?”
“No. You and I are hardly acquainted. Why would we fraternize?”
Nan had been searching for Mrs. Cummings for days, but the woman had proved to be incredibly elusive. Nan’s frustration had reached extreme levels when, luckily, she’d been riding in her carriage and had glanced out the window. Mrs. Cummings had been exiting a dressmaker’s shop.
Nan had rapped for her driver to stop, had jumped down and marched over to accost the blasted shrew. Mrs. Cummings was a paragon of stellar manners, but Nan didn’t mind making a public scene. The street was busy, and they were surrounded by people, many of whom knew Nan and Mrs. Cummings very well.
“Miss Hubbard has fled London,” Nan said.
“Has she?”
“From the moment we initially discussed the issue, it took me a little over an hour to send her packing.”
“Really? How...interesting.”
“I’m told she’s gone for good.”
“Bully for her.”
“I gave you the ending you requested, and I barely had to lift a finger.”
“Why are you sharing such a bizarre tale?”
“I wrote you,” Nan loudly announced. “I provided the name of the person you should contact at the Stevens brothers’ club. I just went there, and no payment has been tendered by you.”
“A payment to the Stevens brothers?”
“We had a deal Mrs. Cummings. I would ruin Lucas Drake’s betrothal to Amelia Hubbard, and you would pay off my gambling debt.”
Mrs. Cummings’s frown deepened. “First, Mrs. Nipton, I’m completely confused as to what you refer. And second, I would never engage in such unsavory behavior—particularly not with regard to a man who is about to become a member of my family.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“No. You’re being absurd.”
“Is that what you’re claiming? That we had no agreement? That you’re such a saint you wouldn’t scheme against Lucas with me?”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m claiming. Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I see my carriage. Good day.”
Mrs. Cummings stepped as if she’d stomp off in a huff, and Nan blocked her way. They were the same height, and they glared, Mrs. Cummings trying to intimidate Nan with her superior position and greater age, but Nan couldn’t be intimidated by anyone.
“You lying witch,” Nan accused, her voice carrying and passersby slowing to listen. “We had a deal.”
“We most certainly did not.”
“Can you presume I’ll remain silent about this?”
“You may shout your falsehoods to the heavens,” Mrs. Cummings caustically seethed, “for your reputation precedes you, Mrs. Nipton. You won’t be believed.”
“Won’t I? Are you willing to take that chance?”
“Most definitely.”
“I’ll tell Lucas.”
A flare of panic flashed in Mrs. Cummings’s eyes, but it was quickly quashed. “Speak to Lucas as you wish. Or don’t speak with him. It’s of no consequence to me.”
“Seriously? You can’t see the danger to yourself?”
“No, for as I mentioned, we are hardly the pair to be conspirators, and should you spew any stories to Lucas, I’ll be able to counter them. No sane person could envision my conferring with you on any topic, let alone our plotting together.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate me, Mrs. Cummings.”
“I don’t have to. We’re all aware of your shortcomings, Mrs. Nipton. Even Lucas.”
Mrs. Cummings smirked again, then walked on, and Nan fumed as the older woman climbed into her vehicle. As it rumbled away, Nan’s mind was already racing, sorting through the best methods for getting even.
She’d been wary of scheming with Claudia Cummings, but Freddie hated wagering, and he constantly nagged about it. Nan had been desperate to shut him up, and Claudia’s offer had sounded intoxicatingly wonderful.
When Nan had lured Lucas out of Westwood’s mansion, she’d known Miss Hubbard was lurking on the verandah and staring in the window. The poor ninny was so in love with Lucas! It had been almost painful to watch her, but Nan had no conscience and had no duty or loyalty to Miss Hubbard.
It had been simple to prance into the music room, to convince Lucas to leave. But after they’d arrived at Nan’s house, he’d proved that Miss Hubbard’s sentiment was reciprocated—at leas
t to some degree—and for once, she was feeling a tad guilty.
Lucas was a friend, and they’d been close for years. Should Nan have wrecked things for him? She couldn’t decide and, obviously, she shouldn’t have trusted Mrs. Cummings. If Mrs. Cummings expected she could double cross Nan, then Nan could do the same.
She would start by visiting Lucas, perhaps Miss Hubbard too. Nan wasn’t big on confessing her sins, but maybe in this instance, she would. Wasn’t that a novel notion?
She spun away, and as she rounded the corner, she was thrilled to run into Lucas’s brother, Aaron Drake. He was with his snooty fiancée, Priscilla Cummings.
Tit for tat, Nan mused. Mrs. Cummings had betrayed Nan, and Nan was happy to return the favor.
“Hello, Aaron.” She liked to use his Christian name, because it irked him so much.
“Mrs. Nipton,” he grudgingly responded.
Priscilla ignored Nan and was fit to be tied that Nan had dared to approach them. Nan ignored her too and said to Aaron, “I just spoke with Priscilla’s mother.”
Priscilla huffed, “You don’t have my permission to address me so familiarly.”
“You’ll get over it.” Nan didn’t glance at Priscilla. Her gaze was locked on Aaron. “I plotted with Mrs. Cummings against your brother.”
“What?” Aaron muttered, as Priscilla turned a fascinating shade of puce.
“She wanted to wreck Lucas’s betrothal to Miss Hubbard. She and I hurt Miss Hubbard so she’d leave London and Lucas could be shed of her.”
Aaron scowled, his confusion clear. “What are you talking about?”
“Ask your precious, Priscilla, to explain it,” Nan replied. “Or better yet, ask Claudia. She can tell you all about it. And make certain that harridan knows I won’t be silent until she coughs up the money she owes me.”
Nan had always been a verbal archer, and she deemed it a precisely shot arrow. She smiled a cunning smile and continued on. When Aaron called to her, begging her to clarify and expound, she kept going.
* * * *
“What happened to your eye?”
“I ran into a very angry brother who cold-cocked me before I saw it coming.”
“By any chance, was this the brother of a woman with whom you wrongly trifled?”
“Yes.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Rose glared at Lucas, studying his blackened eye, and he shrugged and grinned.
She thought she detested him, but then, whenever she was in his company, she was reluctantly charmed. He was such an unrepentant rogue, and he was never sorry for any of the havoc he wreaked.
But he was her cousin and the only member of her tiny family with whom she had any connection. He liked her and had tried valiantly to persuade her to like him in return. He was so determined to establish a bond, and she had few in her life, so it was difficult to maintain her rancor.
“Who was the woman?” she innocently asked. “Who was the brother? Is it anyone I know?”
“Yes, actually. It’s Amelia Hubbard.”
“And the irate brother was Chase?”
“Yes.”
“I find that to be very interesting. Chase Hubbard reminds me very much of you. I can’t picture him being driven to outrage by anything.”
“Trust me. He was furious.”
His shoulders sagged, and he came over and sat down across from her. They were on the rear verandah, with Rose lounging at a table in the sun and enjoying a quiet afternoon. With her official wedding swiftly approaching, her schedule had been hectic. James was gone for several hours, and she’d been shocked when the butler had interrupted to announce Lucas’s arrival.
He looked weary and sad, which amazed her. She hadn’t imagined him capable of negative emotion. In the time she’d been acquainted with him, he’d been all laughter and levity and rude jests. He was never serious about any topic. It was the trait she’d most loathed about him—his frivolity and lack of focus.
In many ways, his condition resembled Amelia’s, miserable, dejected, beaten down by events.
“What did you do to Amelia?” she inquired.
She’d already heard the gory details, but she couldn’t wait for him to spin the story to his own advantage. Yet to her astonishment, he actually appeared contrite.
“When I tell you, you’ll be angrier than Chase Hubbard was.”
“Probably. I’m sure you acted horridly.”
“You’re aware that my father engaged me to Amelia.”
“Yes, and I warned her away from you.”
“I’m too wonderful,” he chuckled. “She couldn’t resist me.”
Rose bristled. “She’s been my friend since I was a little girl, Lucas. Don’t joke about her.”
He sighed. “I apologize. I don’t know how to have this conversation.”
“Total candor works the best. Just spit it out. Lay it all on the table.”
“I seduced her.”
“With no intent to marry?”
“No. Well, yes. Well...maybe...” Vastly confused, he tugged his hands through his hair. “I have no idea what I intended.”
“Chase Hubbard gave you a thrashing because of your low behavior?”
“Yes.”
“Good. It saves me the trouble.”
“Is Amelia here?”
“No,” she truthfully said.
“Have you seen her? Have you talked to her recently?”
“No.” Rose fibbed with aplomb.
“Have you had a letter?”
“No.”
“Are you expecting her for the wedding?”
“No. She wrote weeks ago—after you visited me the first time. She’s not coming.”
It was Lucas’s turn to study her, and she held herself very still, affecting an air of bland detachment.
“Where might she be?” he asked. “She left London without a word to anyone, and I’m very worried about her.”
“Why would you worry now?” she fumed. “You weren’t very worried when she was still in the city.”
“No. No, I wasn’t.”
He stared at the floor, and his woe was extremely visible. He seemed abashed and ashamed, which was an odd realization. She didn’t suppose he’d ever been ashamed about anything.
They dawdled, the trees swaying in the breeze, birds chirping overhead. Finally, he blew out a heavy breath and pushed himself to his feet. He looked older, less cocky and confident. He looked...remorseful. My goodness!
“I’d better be going then,” he murmured.
“So soon? Won’t you stay for supper? James will be disappointed it you don’t.”
“I have to get back to town. I have to keep searching.”
“For Amelia?”
“Yes. I was so hoping you’d have seen her.”
Rose shrugged and continued the lie. “I haven’t.”
With no goodbye offered, he started out, but as he reached the door, he glanced back. “If she contacts you, would you give her a message for me?”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Tell her I’m sorry—for everything.”
“All right, but I don’t know when she and I will speak again.”
“And tell her...tell her...I didn’t mean what she heard me say.”
Rose scoffed. “I won’t even ask what it was.”
“No, don’t. I was disgraceful.”
“I’m stunned that you’d admit it.”
“Believe me, so am I.”
“I need you to tell me something,” Rose said.
“Anything I can.”
“What are your feelings about Amelia? You’ve always sworn you would never wed, but it seems odd to me that you’ve traveled so far just to find her. Are you fond of her?”
A corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Yes.”
“How fond? Very fond?”
“Yes, very, very fond, and I will regret forever that I was too cowardly to confess my feelings before she departed.”
Then he
was gone, and Rose sat alone, struggling to make sense of the strange conversation. He was so anxious to locate Amelia that he’d race back to the city without so much as a hello to James. Rose was bewildered by it.
Footsteps marched toward her, and she peered over at the door again, assuming Lucas hadn’t left after all. But James appeared instead, and she grinned and waved him over.
“Why are you home?” she asked. “I wasn’t expecting you for hours.”
“My business finished early.”
“Marvelous.”
He leaned down and kissed her, sweetly lingering before plopping into a chair.
“Was that Lucas I saw riding off?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“What was he doing here?”
“He came to ask me a question.”
“A question? That sounds mysterious. Is he staying for the wedding?”
“No, he’s hurrying back to London.”
“But...he just arrived.”
“Yes, I know.”
“He didn’t tarry last time either. What’s up with you two?”
She gazed at him, her wonderful, remarkable husband, and she realized she had to unburden herself. James wasn’t aware that Amelia had visited, and Amelia had made Rose swear she wouldn’t mention it to James, being convinced James would tattle to Lucas.
Rose’s vow to Amelia had placed her in the untenable position of possibly lying to James—certainly through the omission of information—which Rose couldn’t abide. Though Amelia was determined not to wed Lucas, her dire circumstance, if proved true, meant she had to have a husband immediately. Lucas was the culprit, so he was the only candidate for the role.
Amelia insisted she wouldn’t humiliate herself by begging Lucas to marry, but from his woebegone, hangdog demeanor, Rose didn’t imagine they’d have to beg Lucas to become her spouse.
“I have to tell you a secret,” she said.
“A secret! Yes, it seems you’d better.”
“It’s about Lucas.”
“Uh-oh.”
“He’s in a jam with my friend from school, Amelia Hubbard. I promised her I wouldn’t confide in you, but I don’t think it’s a promise I can keep.”
“Spill all, dear wife,” James teased. “Spill all, and don’t forget a single juicy detail.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“What happened to your eye?”
