Amity
Four months earlier
Birdie and her daughter did not speak for two days after the incident at the pyramids. Their silence might have continued for longer had Captain Sheffield not—at last—called on the party at Shepheard’s Hotel, where the luxurious accommodations had failed to make even the slightest favorable impression on Amity. His arrival, and the subsequent adventures of the Three Musketeers, restored her good spirits. Now the Khan el-Khalili teemed with exotic treasures, the pyramids and the sphinx were magical, and the society at Shepheard’s second to none. Better still, Jack had persuaded his brother to join him in Egypt.
“I almost wish the duke weren’t coming,” Amity said, as she and Christabel sat at a table on the crowded terrace at Shepheard’s the afternoon of his much-anticipated arrival. “We are having such fun with Jack. What if his brother is not so affable?”
“Amity, you have been desperate to meet the duke for months. Can it be that your nerves are plaguing you now?”
“Almost certainly,” Amity said, giggling and then pausing while a waiter delivered finger sandwiches and cakes to accompany their tea. “At any rate, even if he shows not the barest interest in me, he is bound to demand more of his brother’s time. You in particular will dislike that.”
Christabel blushed. “Am I so obvious?”
“Not at all,” her friend said, stirring sugar into her steaming cup. “It is only because I know you so well that I can read your feelings.”
“Do you think he knows?”
“Christabel, dear, you shall have to become much more forthright if you want him to guess what resides in your heart.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort until I have a clearer picture of his own feelings on the subject.”
“Your English reticence will do you no favors, my friend.” Amity fidgeted, opened her parasol, and leaned back in her chair. “If I were you, I would be suggesting to Jack that he ought to have a capable photographer on hand to capture his myriad adventures.”
“I could never be so forward.” Christabel’s eyes widened. “To imply that I would be willing to travel with him—”
“As his wife, my dear. That is not so shocking,” Amity said, closing her parasol and sitting up straight. “Here they are now, so I suppose we ought not continue strategizing on the topic. We must make it look as if this is the most casual tea we have ever had.” Two lanky gentlemen, one in uniform, the other in a light-colored linen suit, expertly tailored, mounted the stairs outside the hotel. “He is more handsome than I would have expected. I’ve always pictured dukes as pale, elderly, and infirm.”
“I could have told you Jeremy is nothing of the sort,” Christabel said. “I cannot claim to know him well, but we have met several times, and he is what most mothers consider dangerously charming. As you know, he quite refuses to marry, much to their chagrin.”
“Jack only touched briefly on the subject. Why won’t he marry?”
“His heart was broken by the dearest friend of his youth, Lady Emily Hargreaves, and he has never recovered. He is in possession of both fortune and title, so if you do want to catch him, you shall have to rely on more than your dowry. There is nothing Jeremy needs.”
“Except, perhaps, love.” Amity squinted as she studied the taller of the gentlemen approaching their table. She held up her hand for him to kiss even before his brother could make the introduction. Without the slightest sign of hesitation, Jeremy Sheffield, Duke of Bainbridge, took the little gloved hand and lingered over it.
“My brother warned me about you, Miss Wells, and, as you see, I am not waiting to be properly introduced. Whatever will your mother say?”
“Nothing, your grace, that could be repeated in public,” Amity said. “Unless, of course, your intentions prove to be honorable.”
“I do hate to disappoint a young lady’s mother, but I cannot bear to be less than honest with you, Miss Wells. My intentions have never been honorable, and I am too old to change my habits now.”
“Then, your grace, I must beg you to take a seat. Christabel and I are taking tea, but perhaps you would prefer whisky?”
“She is a pistol, Jack.” The duke kissed Christabel on both cheeks before sitting next to Amity. “I like her already.”
7
The rooms at the Hotel Britannia were all en suite, and the facilities left one nothing short of utterly satisfied. I took a long bath before dinner, luxuriating in the deep tub, whose waters Meg, my maid, had scented with rose oil. My ablutions leaving me feeling greatly refreshed, I vowed to befriend Amity Wells, and to do everything in my power to ensure that she and Jeremy enjoyed the rest of this dreadful holiday in their honor. Cécile may have been right in her observation that I was harder hit by Jeremy’s engagement than I realized, for although I harbored no romantic feelings for him, the very act of him taking a wife would herald a necessary alteration in our friendship, and it was only natural that I would mourn the change to some degree. Perhaps this had caused me to be less generous with Amity than I ought to have been, and after the chaos of Jeremy’s ill-fated swim, I thought it best that I do what I could to try again with her.
“I have let out the seams just a bit, madam,” Meg said, as she lowered my favorite Worth gown over my head. “Babies do take a toll on the waist.” There had been a time when I might have mourned the loss of my waistline, but I cared very little about it now.
“You need not remind me about my waist,” I said, and smoothed the icy blue voile skirt. “I would rather have you letting out seams than pulling these stays tighter. I have always been fond of breathing.”
“You’re still awfully slim, madam,” Meg said. “I shouldn’t worry.” While she wrestled with the tiny buttons that fastened the back of the bodice, I clasped a diamond and sapphire necklace around my neck. “Do you think this jewelry is too showy?”
“Too showy, madam? Not at all. If I owned it I would wear it every day without exception. It’s stunning.”
“I want to be careful not to do anything that might be interpreted as an attempt to upstage Miss Wells.”
“Lady Emily, that necklace would upstage the queen herself. The sapphires make your eyes flash the same color as the stones. It’s almost like you’re more goddess than woman.”
“You have been reading Homer, haven’t you, Meg?”
“Yes, milady. You did give me the book. Can’t say I like that Achilles bloke much. I find myself wishing I could give him a good slap and force him out of his tent.”
“I could not be more pleased.” I smiled and removed the necklace. “Bring me the lion chain instead.” I had purchased this piece in Greece, although the dealer told me it had been found in Italy. It dated from the fourth century B.C., and from the front looked like a simple, heavy gold chain. The clasp featured two golden lions, their eyes enameled in blue. In antiquity, it would have been worn with matching earrings, but, alas, they had not survived the ravages of time, so I had careful reproductions made based on the clasp, and now snapped them into place.
“You look very exotic,” Colin said, adjusting his cuff links as he came into the dressing room. “Going Greek tonight, are you?”
“I thought it more discreet than diamonds and sapphires.”
“My dear, you are so perfectly exquisite your beauty could never be described as discreet, no matter what you choose as adornment.”
Meg sighed. “Are you going to moon over her, Mr. Hargreaves, or are you going to let me finish dressing her? You’re already nearly late.”
Far from being late, we were the first of our party to arrive in the dining room. After consulting with the maître d’ to ascertain that the Wellses had not made any specific arrangements to the contrary, I asked that everyone be served a special cocktail, made with champagne, as soon as they reached the table. I wanted to offer a festive toast to Jeremy and his bride. The barman concocted a gorgeous drink, combining my requested bubbles with raspberry liqueur. Even Cécile, who ordinarily objected to any deviat
ion from champagne, agreed it was delightful. When we were all gathered, I rose from my seat.
“It is with great pleasure that I raise my glass to Miss Amity Wells, the only lady on earth charming and radiant enough to tempt the Duke of Bainbridge into the bonds of matrimony. I wish you much happiness together and am honored to have been included in your celebrations.”
The others cried “Hear, Hear!” and drank with gusto. Amity’s glass remained untouched, as proper etiquette demanded. One does not drink in honor of oneself. Colin stood next.
“Bainbridge and I have had our differences in the past, too numerous to count, let alone catalog, here tonight. He has publicly committed himself to the lofty goal of becoming the most useless man in England, and I must now state, for the record, that he shall never accomplish the feat. By persuading—using means I cannot begin to understand—Miss Amity Wells to agree to be his wife, he has given London society its brightest gem. No one could describe the architect of such a scheme as useless, in England or elsewhere. To Bainbridge!”
We all shouted “To Bainbridge!” and drank, yet still Amity did not touch her glass. She turned in her seat and waved for the waiter. “Could I please have something else? I cannot abide even the idea of this beverage.”
“Champagne, mademoiselle?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, of course. What else would be appropriate for toasts?” She looked directly at me as she spoke.
Mr. Wells made a speech that brought tears to his wife’s eyes. Jack followed with several ribald stories about his brother, including one from the Olympics. Jack had run a race organized for the occasion to re-create the famous journey from Marathon to Athens taken by a messenger in the fifth century B.C. to bring word to the Athenians that their army had defeated the invading Persians. That ancient runner had collapsed and died after completing the task, but his modern descendants fared better. The final bit of the race took the competitors into the newly restored stadium in Athens, where Jeremy sat in the stands to cheer on his brother. Rather than remain in his seat, he rushed down and ran next to Jack during his final lap. This caused a great deal of confusion and not a little outrage, but Jeremy, undaunted, argued that he ought to have a medal for his effort, despite the fact not even Jack’s pace had been good enough to secure a place at the front of the pack.
Mr. Fairchild spoke next, doing his best to rehabilitate Jeremy’s reputation, pointing out that his friend often argued that he deserved medals, and that the incident in Athens was little more than a tempest in a teapot, no matter what the Greek prince on hand had wanted to call it. By the time our food had arrived, the party had settled into comfortable conversation, each of us focusing on our dinner partners, turning to the opposite side at the start of each new course. When we were finished, the gentlemen retired to the smoking room for port and cigars—I refrained from making any criticisms of what I viewed as an antiquated custom—and we ladies waited for them in the lounge, just off the lobby of the hotel. I went so far as to accept the sherry Mrs. Wells offered me, although my dislike of the beverage and preference for port were well known.
When the gentlemen returned, we decided to take a turn along La Croisette. The rain had stopped, and the night turned clear, lit by a bright moon. Amity paired us all up, putting me with her father and Cécile with her fiancé. Once again, she walked with Colin.
“Your daughter is so lovely tonight,” I said to Mr. Wells as we walked.
“Thank you, Lady Emily. It is good to see her happy. Her life, you know, has not always been so easy.”
“I had no idea,” I said. “I am very sorry.”
“Nothing serious, mind you, only the difficulties that arise from coming of age in a family like ours.”
“I am not certain I understand.”
“That is just as well. She admires you very much, but I think finds you somewhat threatening.”
“Threatening?” I asked, crinkling my brow. “Heavens, I have certainly never intended such a thing.”
“My wife and I have heard many stories, Lady Emily, about the duke’s past. We were not entirely comfortable when he insisted on including you and Mr. Hargreaves in this party, but Amity requires that her fiancé have whatever he wants. I will speak to you more plainly than you are likely accustomed. Stay away from him. I will not have my daughter disappointed in love.”
My heart pounded with outrage. “Mr. Wells, I can assure you that Jeremy has never been more to me than a dear friend, and that friendship has never crossed any boundary of propriety. That you suggest otherwise offends me deeply. I am not the sort of lady—”
“It would be best, Lady Emily, if we pursued the topic no further.”
One may surmise the remainder of our stroll to have been discomforting, an observation at once inadequate and perfectly correct. When we congregated at the end of the hotel’s pier and released our partners, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Miss Wells, your necklace is a work of art,” I said. “Look how the diamonds sparkle in the moonlight. You are Artemis herself.” My own choice of jewelry had been correct. Amity was decked out in a collar of stones that, while spectacular, could only be described as an exercise in excess. My own diamond necklace, delicate and understated, would have underlined the tawdry display of hers.
“I own to being more taken with yours, Lady Emily,” Mr. Fairchild said. How I wished I could have stopped him right there! “Your chain looks as if it is nothing, but then you turn and one is graced with the site of those two regal lions. If anyone is a goddess, it is you, and you are Athena. Or perhaps Hera. Who should it be? I never was good at classics.”
Amity glowered. “You are too generous, Mr. Fairchild,” I said. “It is kind of you to sooth the vanity of an old married woman, but wholly unnecessary, I assure you.”
“If you are old, Kallista, I am positively ancient,” Cécile said. “Do you mean to insult me so?”
“You know me well enough to know that would never be the case.”
“No one could claim that you are old, Lady Emily,” Mr. Fairchild said. While I was grateful for the compliment, I did not want him to say anything more.
“You are very kind. What if we return to the hotel and have some music?” I asked, hoping to redirect the conversation. “Amity has a voice like an angel, and I should so very much like to hear her sing. There is a piano in our suite.”
“Capital idea, Emily,” Colin said, stepping toward Miss Wells. “Your fiancé raves about your singing, and I have not yet heard you. Will you do me the honor?”
The Wells parents made their excuses, as did Cécile, but the rest of us went upstairs, where Colin poured drinks while Jeremy and Jack arranged chairs so that we might all see the performance.
“Margaret, will you accompany her?” I asked.
“Heavens, you know I have no musical talent,” she said. “Even less than you.”
“I do not think it ought to be me,” I said.
“Very well, but consider yourself warned.” Margaret lowered her voice. “I do despise her. She’s being perfectly awful to you.”
“It is of no consequence,” I said, “but I am most grateful for your support.”
Margaret seated herself in front of the piano and exchanged hushed words with Amity. Soon she played the opening notes of a pleasant little song by Mozart, and from the moment Amity began to sing, we were all captivated. A mezzo-soprano, her voice was rich and evocative, with more power than her slim frame would have suggested she had. When she finished, we all sat, unable to move, profoundly affected by her performance. The spell broke, and we all began to applaud, but Amity nodded to Margaret, who began to play again, another aria from the great composer, this one taken from La Clemenza di Tito. At the end, when we had stopped cheering for her—for cheering was indeed required after such a display of talent—she gave me a weak and extremely pretty smile.
“That was for you, Emily. I know how you adore the ancients, and I do want to apologize for Daddy having been so dreadful to you.”
It was a thoughtful gesture, given that the story, set in ancient Rome, did fit with my interest in classics. It also showed the depth of Amity’s knowledge of music. So far as I was aware, the opera had only been performed once in London during our century, and probably not at all in America, yet she clearly had studied it.
“Did you hear your father speaking to me?” I asked, wondering how she knew he had been so very dreadful.
“Jeremy overheard,” she said, furrowing her brow. “The darling boy told me everything, and I am horrified. Do please forgive Daddy for me, will you? I can’t bear that he has made you upset.”
“Of course I shall forgive him, and you, Miss Wells, are an angel,” I said, and stood to embrace her, not missing the calculating look she gave me as I crossed to her. I wondered why she was now trying to appear to be my friend, but forced all cynical thoughts from my head. I would be her friend, for Jeremy. He would have peace, even if it were an uneasy one, if I had anything to do with it.
“And you, Lady Emily, are simply too very.” The lighthearted charm was back in her voice. “We have spent far too long at odds with each other. It is time for us to be friends.”
Amity
Four months earlier
Jeremy’s arrival in Cairo changed everything for Amity. She still despised the heat, but when she complained, he took her fan and waved it in front of her face. When she longed for a moonlight excursion, he was always on hand to escort her, and she, knowing his habits from the stories told to her by his brother, always carried a flask of his favorite whisky. These nighttime adventures—to the pyramids, through gardens, on short boat trips along the Nile—raised the hackles of many society mothers. Surely the Duke of Bainbridge would not now ally himself with an American? Such a thought was not to be borne.
The Adventuress Page 8
