“I honestly never knew she was that strong. With how hard she shoved you, I thought we’d have to call a doctor for sure.”
The bruises from his fall over the retaining wall had been nothing compared to the bruise to his pride. And neither of those held a candle to the agony of watching some other man get to be her first kiss. “She can’t marry him.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Has something fundamental changed about your circumstances to make it possible for you to honorably pursue my sister?”
Nicholas could not say that it had. His willingness to stand up to his parents on the issue had certainly changed, but his ability to provide for her and his station in life remained the same. He was still a second son. A redundancy. His livelihood relied on the goodwill of his parents, and they would never approve of Amelia.
“I didn’t think so. I wish things were different, but they’re not. Give it up, Nick.”
“I have.”
“Obviously not. There’s no future for her with you. Leave it alone. Don’t ruin what will likely be her only chance at a normal life.”
Julia was right. Nicholas couldn’t give her what Montrose could. With Nick, there would be no title and no security. It would be a hard life, full of uncertainty.
If he truly loved her, he would let her be happy without him. It didn’t matter that he’d written her letters every day. It didn’t matter that he’d loved her with every breath in his body since the day they met. That was the past—their past—but the happiest future for her was clearly with Montrose.
After Embry left, Amelia went straight to her room to reflect on the events of the afternoon. However, instead of privacy, she found Julia leafing through the book she’d left on her bedside table.
“Oh, for goodness—”
“Don’t even start. After everything I’ve put up with today, there’s no chance you’re not telling me every possible detail.” Julia patted the bedside in invitation.
Amelia stomped over with as little grace as possible. There would be no dissuading Julia, and Amelia hardly planned to keep it to herself. She’d just hoped to have little time to consider how she felt on her own first.
Julia smiled. “So. Lord Montrose kissed you.”
“Yes.”
“How did it happen? Were you expecting it?”
“I should hope so. I asked him to.”
“You what?” Julia grabbed her by the shoulders. “Amelia Marie Bishop. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I just wanted to know.” Amelia stared down at her lap.
Julia watched her. “It didn’t end up how you wanted it to.”
Amelia shrugged. She couldn’t say if it had or it hadn’t. It hadn’t been bad, certainly.
“What happened?”
“I thought it would make me…tingly.”
Julia raised an eyebrow.
Amelia rushed on to avoid having to explain that particular discovery. “And at first it was nice. His lips were against mine and it was sweet. There was a definite chance for tingles.”
“And then?”
“And then he swallowed me? His tongue was in my mouth and it was so strange and I could barely breathe and it was… it was a lot. A lot all at once.”
“His tongue—in your mouth?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” Amelia threw her arms up in a general plea to the universe.
Julia considered the issue with her usual pragmatism. She folded her hands in her lap and pinned Amelia with a focused stare. “Did Embry seem to enjoy it?”
“Yes. Very much. Perhaps too much.”
“How do you mean?”
“He was out of breath and afterward, he, erm, apologized for his ardor.”
“That’s good, then.” Julia nodded. “Obviously you were decent enough at it if you inspired him to passion.”
Amelia had rather hoped to be inspired to her own ardor. It would have cleared up a few concerns rattling around in her head regarding her new reaction to Nicholas. Instead, it had only confused things even further.
“So tell me about these tingles you were hoping for.”
Oh, bother. “It’s nothing.”
“Clearly, it’s not. It’s not like you to ask Embry to kiss you, but you did. Because of this tingly notion.”
Absolutely nothing was sacred when your sister was a busybody know-it-all. Not a single thing. But why hadn’t her reaction to Embry been more exciting? “When Nicholas and I walked to the woods—”
“You bloody idiots. Did he kiss you?”
“No!” Amelia fell back on the bed. “But I think he almost did. I was leaning in and he was leaning in, and then suddenly it was all dreadfully intense.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Julia fell back beside her, shaking her head.
Amelia put her hands over her face. “What do I do, Julia? What if Embry never gives me tingles?”
Julia wasn’t listening. She was too busy muttering at the ceiling. “I knew something had happened. When Nicholas came over today and heard Embry was here. I should have known. I should have put a stop to it.”
“Nicholas was here? Today?”
“Bloody idiot. I told him he didn’t want to watch.”
“You were watching us?” Amelia turned on her side. “Julia!”
“Oh please. Don’t pretend you’re surprised.”
“How could you let Nicholas…” Amelia trailed off. She was back in that murky territory. Why shouldn’t Nicholas see her kiss her fiancé? Nor was it unusual for Julia to include Nicholas. The three of them had been inseparable since Amelia was six years old. Until Nicholas went away, they were as close as a trio as Amelia and Julia were on their own.
“This is a disaster, Amelia.”
“It is.”
“Well,” Julia said, sitting up with purpose. “You must come to your senses, forget about tingles, and forget about Nicholas Wakefield.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Nicholas is my friend.”
“A friend you have an attraction toward.”
Amelia couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up her face. “Nicholas is attractive. Don’t tell me you don’t find him handsome.”
“I’m not engaged. I can find whoever I fancy handsome.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Julia said. She pointed at Amelia, all traces of humor gone. “Forget Nicholas. Marry Embry.”
“Obviously I’m going to marry Embry.” It wasn’t like anyone else was offering.
Julia tipped Amelia’s chin toward her, forcing their eyes to meet. “Good.”
“Good.”
“That’s settled, then.”
“It is.” Only it didn’t feel settled. In the place at Amelia’s center where the tingles started anytime she thought about Nicholas, it was anything but settled.
Nicholas spooned his soup quietly, lost in thought. Everything was going wrong. Amelia was kissing men—specifically, men who weren’t Nicholas. His father was so much worse than his parents had let on. Should he tell Phillip? Could he even do this?
Lady Wakefield had her own concerns. “You visited that girl. Again.”
“I did.”
Silverware clattered against the Limoges china. She glared across the table at his father. “Arthur.”
“Hmm?”
“He’s visiting the neighbors.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is not nice.” Her mouth clamped shut, but she was practically vibrating from the strain.
Nicholas knew he couldn’t soothe her without lying, but he tried anyway. “They’re my friends, Mother.”
She shook her head, refusing to speak to him.
“I’ve had a letter from Philip,” Lord Wakefield announced, oblivious to the discord across the table. “Caroline gave birth to another boy.”
Yes, she had. Two years ago. Lord Wakefield was still trapped in the past. Smithson had explained that he could come out of it at an
y moment, but it hadn’t happened yet. Lady Wakefield’s anger dissolved in a flash. Her hands shook as she raised her glass to her lips, and she held her napkin a little too tightly.
Why did everything have to become so complicated? He hated his mother’s disdain for the Bishops. If he was being honest, he’d almost hated her some days. She was so rigid. But now even that was clouded. She loved his father, and his father was disappearing. If Amelia suddenly couldn’t remember…he couldn’t even complete the thought. His brain rejected it entirely. Besides, she wasn’t his to worry over. By the time that became a concern, she would be decades into her marriage with Montrose and she’d have forgotten all about Nicholas, with or without the help of an ailing mind.
But if she were his to worry about, how would he feel? Nicholas slid his hand across the table, covering his mother’s small palm. It was fragile. He could feel every tiny bone under her thin skin. When had his parents become old?
She gripped his fingers back with painful force. “That’s lovely, Arthur. Such good news.”
The next course came in and she let go abruptly.
“Mother…”
She plastered a smile on her face and addressed the footman. “Please tell Cook the soup was very nice.”
They consumed the rest of the courses in dismal silence. If challenged, Nicholas couldn’t have told anyone what he was eating. When the last of the plates had been taken away and they retired to the drawing room, his mother stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Please remember that your real family needs you now.”
Nicholas looked up. There were tears pooling on her lower lids, threatening to fall. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That girl—”
He covered her hand again. It was the most physical contact he’d had with his mother since he’d left the nursery. “I’m here. I’ll be here as long as I’m needed.”
Dragging a finger under her eye, she instantly returned to the formidable Lady Wakefield Nicholas was accustomed to. She nodded and announced, “I think I’ll go up early.”
Nicholas and his father retired to comfortable chairs in front of the fire with glasses of Burgundy.
“A second son,” Lord Wakefield mused. “Well done, Philip.”
“I’m sure they’re extremely pleased.”
“We certainly were when you were born. Such a relief to know the line is secure.”
A relief. That’s all he was. Something to help them sleep at night in case the worst happened. Nicholas didn’t want his value to hinge on something terrible happening to Philip and his nephews. He wanted a purpose of his own.
Smithson had explained that his father wouldn’t remember this day out of time. When he came back to the present, it would be like it never happened.
“Father, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“What would you think about my studying to become a barrister?”
Lord Wakefield’s brow rose. “A profession? Surely you’re joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
“No Wakefield has labored in a profession since before the writing of the Domesday Book.”
He was well aware. One could not grow up a Wakefield and not be. “But what if I wanted to?”
“Nicholas,” his father admonished. “It’s high time you abandoned these odd notions. First your fascination with those bohemians, now this barrister business. You’re a man now. It’s time to grow up. Your place is here, helping me and Philip maintain the Wakefield legacy. Your duty is to your family, not some pack of criminal strangers.”
Well. So much for the delusion that his father might somehow understand. At least before he’d been able to pretend the conversation could have gone favorably. Now he knew with complete certainty that Lord Wakefield would never approve of what Nicholas wanted for his own life. It was what he had expected, really, but losing that little shred of hope hurt more than he’d realized it would.
Chapter Four
When Embry came to call the next day, it was not Amelia’s fault for not being ready. This time she was certain he hadn’t told her he was visiting. After being brushed and poked and stuffed into another damned corset, she was rushed downstairs where her fiancé was waiting in the foyer.
“Embry. What a delightful surprise.”
“I apologize for the lack of notice.”
Her mother, ever-present, chimed in. “Nonsense. You’re practically one of the family now. Come whenever you like.”
Amelia ignored her. “Was there a reason you wanted to see me?”
“Ah. Yes. Would you be terribly averse to taking another walk with me? I have something I need to speak with you about.” His glance slid toward Lady Bishop, who was tilted forward with interest. “Privately.”
Horror welled up inside her. He was going to call off their engagement. She’d been much too forward, and after having time to think on it, he’d decided she would not make a suitable countess after all. She squashed it all down, along with the extremely inappropriate hopefulness, which she chalked up to mental instability. She answered with perhaps a little too much cheer. “Not at all. Would you like to go now?”
He nodded.
A short cape was procured for Amelia and they set out across the lawn. He wasn’t speaking and Amelia wasn’t certain of what to say, so she followed her mother’s advice; when in doubt, comment on the weather. “The clouds look frightful. I think we might get more rain.”
Apparently, that was all he needed to find his tongue. “Amelia. About yesterday, on the terrace.”
Oh goodness. She’d been right. Amelia’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I enjoyed our kiss a great deal, but I realize I might have frightened you with my enthusiasm, and if I did I apologize.”
Oh. Well, that was a relief. Wasn’t it? “It’s quite all right.”
“It isn’t, though. Since our first walk the day my carriage broke down, you’ve always seemed so intelligent and certain of yourself, but you are an innocent. More so than most, even, and I forgot myself.”
“Nonsense. I asked you to, and it was…” She couldn’t say quite all right again, so she trailed off and said nothing. It hadn’t been awful, but it certainly hadn’t been what she’d imagined it would be.
“I haven’t felt this way about anyone since Lily. I know you had other reasons for accepting my proposal, but when you asked me to kiss you…” His hands clasped hers under the branches of a birch tree. “It gave me hope that you could feel the same.”
Amelia tried to sort through everything she’d just heard. Embry had deep feelings for her. He knew she didn’t return them. “Who is Lily?”
“Surely you heard. It was all anyone in town could talk about for what felt like an eternity.”
Amelia held her tongue, waiting.
When enlightenment came, his face filled with chagrin. “Ah. No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. Who would have told you?”
“Who, indeed.”
“Lily was my fiancée.”
Oh. He’d been engaged before. It made sense, certainly. He was extremely eligible and much older than her. She’d just never bothered to wonder. “You clearly still care for her. May I ask how it ended?”
“She died.”
Oh no. Amelia stopped them with a hand on his bicep. “Embry, I’m so sorry.”
“As am I. She was so guileless and impossibly kind.” He looked away, wiping at the corner of his eye. “You remind me of her a great deal.”
Amelia wasn’t certain she would have chosen those as her most apparent attributes, but he clearly meant to flatter her and it was hardly the time to correct him. He’d lost someone he loved to cruel circumstances, and he still felt it keenly. “May I ask how she died?”
“Consumption. She was taken far too soon.”
And he’d never loved anyone since.
Embry finally noticed her hand on his arm and stepped closer. Tipping her chin up, he looked into her eyes. “Yo
u mustn’t think it means I don’t have the whole of my affection to give you. My feelings for you have been a delightful surprise, breathing life back into a heart I thought otherwise barren.”
She didn’t know what to say. Amelia opened her mouth, hoping some manner of divine inspiration would take over. Instead, the descent of Embry’s lips did.
It was much like before. The sensation was interesting and there was nothing in it that Amelia minded, per se, but it lacked the invigorating, distracting quality of Nicholas’s attention. Still, Embry was her fiancé and he clearly cared a great deal for her.
Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his. Embry’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. That wasn’t half bad. When his hand rested against her jaw and the tips of his fingers brushed against the nape of her neck, there was a definite stirring of interest. It wasn’t the culmination of all Amelia’s hopes, but it was marked progress.
Just as she was starting to get a feel for it, Embry set her away from him. He looked around, flustered, but they were alone. “Amelia, I must apologize again. I—”
“Please don’t. I enjoyed it.”
She thought he might grab her again then and there. Instead, he placed her hand on his arm and started them back toward the house. Every once in a while he cast a sidelong glance in her direction. It looked to Amelia as if he was well pleased with himself.
“Lord Nicholas. A Lord Bellamy has arrived, asking for you. He’s brought luggage.” The last part was uttered with all the starch Smithson could bring to bear.
Lady Wakefield set down her teacup with a rattle. “You invited a guest and didn’t inform anyone?”
He hadn’t, actually, but protocol had never been an area of interest for Jas. Nicholas rose, preparing to intervene. “My apologies, Mother. Smithson. It must have slipped my mind.”
“This is not a good time for visitors. Your father…” She stopped herself. “You’ve never mentioned Lord Bellamy at all. Why not?”
“Our friendship is fairly recent. Jas is a bit unusual.”
The Importance of Being Scandalous Page 5
