by Megan Bryce
“Good lord, woman. What madness.”
The last brother held his hand to his chest. “Is that expected?”
Amelia said, “Not any longer. I don’t know what nonsense Lord Nighting has been filling you with but Clarice ended the engagement.”
“Never!”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I told you she was a twit.”
The last blonde boy said, clearly perplexed, “Why wouldn’t she want to marry his lordship?”
Amelia looked at the smug expression on Jameson’s face. “I can think of two reasons right off hand.”
He smiled at her. “What can I say, Amelia. Some of us are loved beyond reason.”
Robin looked between Amelia and Jameson. “If she ended it, why did she kick him?”
Jameson nodded sagely. “Yes, Amelia, why did she?”
“After having been jilted, Jameson lost his temper and said something quite rude, as he is wont to do. Clarice lost hers in the process and tried to kick him in the shin. Alas, the poor girl has terrible aim.”
She shook her sadly. “I’m sorry, Jameson. I tried to make her see reason but she wouldn’t take you back. She said what you did was unforgivable.”
Five heads swiveled to Jameson. One blonde boy whispered, “What did you do?”
Jameson sipped his drink, staring at Amelia.
She hid a smile as five heads swiveled back towards her. “What did he do? She wouldn’t tell me, but she said she could never marry him. No matter how much he begged.”
Jameson coughed into his drink and Amelia rushed ahead before he could speak.
“No, Jameson. It’s best for all to simply give her up. She said your actions were not those of a man she wished to spend her life and heart on. I daresay she’s suffered much already. I can only assume you’ve been up to your tricks as usual.”
Jameson’s eyes glittered. Whether it was with anger or with laughter was sometimes hard to tell with him.
“Well, Amelia. Marriage can not tame all men. I suspect I am of that ilk.”
“We all suspect it. And now Clarice has seen the light. I advise you to stay your distance from her; her wrath runs dangerous.”
Four blonde heads turned as one to stare at the prostrate form of their once and future king. Lights went on as their eyes rested at the apex of his thighs, and Amelia had to bite her cheek from laughing at Jameson’s discomfort.
The blonde boys set their drinks down in unison. “Well, he had us going.”
“When all along she’d been the one to end it.”
“He must’ve done something rotten to get her so mad. Wonder what it was?”
The last brother took a long look at Jameson and slowly shook his head.
“It must have been terribly rotten.”
The blonde boys took their leave, whispering fiercely between themselves. Amelia ordered tea, and no one said a word until the sound of the closing door reached them.
Jameson stared at her. “Amelia.”
Robin set his glass down sharply. “This takes the cake. Rumors will be flying in less than two hours.”
“May I remind you both that what Jameson did this morning was terrible and rotten. I have simply rearranged the order to protect the poor girl you got into this mess. You will suffer far less than she would.”
Jameson looked less than pleased. “They’ll have me murdering a child before the night is over.”
Amelia said, “I expect it will be more along the lines of a breeding mistress or your intentions to house one of your bastards that will win the populace’s vote.”
Robin sputtered in surprise. “Amelia!”
“Oh Robin, your defense of him is touching. But I have no doubt that even with the worst of rumors he will find a suitable wife willing to overlook it for his face and fortune. But the next time, Jameson, I trust you will ask for my opinion before you go haring off. God knows what a mess you make of it by yourself.”
Jameson said, “Perhaps I should simply leave the looking to you, my dear. I assume you could find me a decent girl.”
“That would be an excellent idea. But I’d wait for the rumors to die down a little. You weren’t in a rush, were you?”
“Hardly.”
Amelia nodded. “I thought not. When the time comes, I’ll find you an excellent match. Clarice is a nice girl, but too nice for the likes of you. You need someone who instead of reacting to the news of your impending desertion would simply tie you to the altar. That would have been the simplest course of action.”
Robin guffawed. “Simplest? You sound like Napoleon of the marriage mart.”
Jameson stared at Amelia, his hand halfway to his mouth. “It would have been less painful at least, old friend. Your sister may be in the right.”
Amelia was surprised her being right was even in question. “Of course I am. You are not the kind of man who goes willingly to his doom. . . er, I mean his future.”
Jameson smiled and sipped his drink. “You are, as always, completely correct. I will, in the future, defer to your superior knowledge of my character. Robin? A toast. To your sister and her diabolical, yet ingenious, disentanglement of my and poor Miss Underwood’s future.”
The siblings stared at him, one looking for signs of excess drink, the other for signs of sanity. Finding neither they drank their respective beverages.
Two
Two weeks had passed since the fiasco, as Amelia called it, and Jameson considered the situation he was in with a fatalistic air. He was now pièce de résistance of the ton. The only place he could escape the whispers, the laughs, and the speculation was in the company of his two oldest friends. Today he was keeping Amelia company while she snipped roses, of all things.
He knew full well it was his own doing. Months earlier he had thought Miss Underwood would make him an excellent wife. She was sweet, kind, and happy. All things he’d thought would make for a lasting relationship.
But alas, he was not cut out for sweet or kind; it was too dull. And he’d seen, in the dullness, his demise. His emotions, still bruised and raw after all these years, had flooded back and he’d panicked. He’d seen his father’s face looking back at him in the mirror. He’d seen his mother’s beautiful face frozen into that rage-filled expression for the rest of her days, short though they were. He could not do that to himself or Miss Underwood. She deserved better. Whether he did or not was up for debate, but he could not help but fight so desolate a future.
It would certainly be easier to give up on the idea of marriage altogether. Indeed, he wouldn’t have to try all that hard now that Amelia had done her work.
He smiled as she snipped mercilessly. It was a shame she was not in charge of the militia; Napoleon would have surrendered at the first sighting. He would have seen in an instant that she would find the most expedient way of disposing of him and consequences be damned.
Jameson had no doubt that if he told her he wished to marry this week she would find a bride for him as quickly as she’d made him the laughingstock of London. She’d march with her head held high, call the best girls, and drag them to him.
And no doubt by the time they arrived they’d all think it was their own idea to wed the now black cad of the ton.
A man would never get bored with Amelia. Indeed, he’d have to stay three steps ahead if he could or he’d find himself bound for the colonies in search of something vital, only to find when he arrived he had no idea what.
But he’d need never worry about treading on her sensibilities. If her husband so much as looked at another woman, she’d give him a sound tongue-lashing and off to bed without his supper. Possibly off to the colonies yet again, poor lad.
No wonder the chit turned down a proposal nearly every week. The heady mix of excitement and peace of mind was more alluring than her dowry. Married to Amelia? Heaven indeed for the man lucky enough to catch her. The trick, it seemed, was in getting her to accept.
“It’s come to my attention, Amelia, that you are as ye
t unwed.”
A laugh escaped her and she looked over at his prostrate form. “I’m surprised you noticed, Jameson. What was it that gave me away?”
“I’m simply wondering why? Has there not been a single satisfactory man in the scads who have proposed? Pray tell what you are looking for.”
Amelia snipped a rose and sniffed it. “It’s quite simple, really. I’ve promised myself that the first man who asks, who I could live with day after day without killing, will be honored with my acceptance. It’s hardly my fault that your sex rarely qualifies for such standards.”
“With those standards I’m not sure you’ll ever find the right chap. There’s not a one I’d choose to live with.”
“So, you see. It’s quite the dilemma. Remain a spinster or become a murderess. Perhaps one day being a murderess will seem the better option.”
Jameson said, “Or perhaps one day you will meet this paragon and sweep him off his feet.”
“There is always that possibility, highly unlikely though it seems.”
Jameson inspected his friend of many years as if for the first time. What did others see when they gazed at her? It was most difficult to see someone when you’d known them all their life. Especially when you weren’t supposed to see them at all. A best friend’s sister is quite out of the question to dally with.
Her slate grey eyes sparkled and jabbed. He’d never known them to look coquettish or shy or anything less than determined. And her black hair was worn in no fashion whatsoever, simply out of the way.
“You don’t wear frills, Amelia?”
“No, Jameson. Have you had too much sun?”
“I’m just looking. Why no frills?”
“The question should be why frills? I would look positively silly.”
“That doesn’t stop any other lady.”
She snipped another rose. “Is that an argument for or against my wearing frills?”
“I’m trying to picture you in virginal white with lacy frills cascading down your dress. I can’t seem to do it.”
“Probably because you were not there when I came out. I do believe that was the first and last time I wore frills.”
Jameson sat up. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I forgot that your come-out was cut short. Do you regret missing that heady first year?”
Amelia glanced at him in amusement. “My come-out was not all that heady, as I recall. It did not take long to learn what lengths men will go to acquire my wealth.”
“Your father would never have let you marry that sh–”
“I’d like to think so, but the scandal he spread about me limited the number of suitable suitors for a time. My father might have got desperate eventually.”
Jameson narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her. “Your father would never have sold you to the lowest bidder, my dear. I hope you remember that about him. He loved you. And was far too lenient with you, as I recall.”
Jameson remembered the late Lord Beckham with fondness bordering on fanaticism. He had treated all those around him with fairness and kindness and had welcomed Jameson into his home and family without reservation. He had been quite vocal on Jameson’s behalf after the death of his parents.
The late Lord Beckham had also adored his daughter, and Jameson had always thought he would treat his own daughter the same. Definitely a handful for the man who would eventually marry her, but Jameson had never seen anything wrong with a little spirit.
Amelia smiled slightly. “He never could take the strap to me, no matter how much I deserved it.”
“And you turned out quite well without it.”
She laughed. “I think there are some who would disagree with you but I consider myself quite lucky. I shudder to think that if Father hadn’t died so soon into my first season, no doubt I would be married to a philandering idiot with ten children by now. By the time my mourning had passed, I had gained some sense. It pains me to think he had to die for that lesson to be learned.”
“Your father was the kind of man who would see his death as a small price to pay for your happiness.”
She smiled at him. “You are a kind man, Jameson. Sometimes you remind me of him.” She shook her head and grinned at him. “And other times I wonder from whence you sprang.”
He chuckled. “The feeling is mutual, my dear dragon.”
Amelia placed her clippers in the basket and settled next to him. “Jameson, I do believe it’s time to be seen in society again. You can not hide forever, it is unlike you.”
He lay back down. “I’m not hiding. You advised me, forcibly, to keep myself scarce so that Miss Underwood could undo the fiasco.”
“And she has prospered. She is the girl of the hour and I daresay she can have her pick of suitable matches. Now you can resume your role in society. You can not hide in my garden forever.”
“I don’t see why not. It’s very peaceful here. And if I resume my role in society I will have silly girls once again thrown at me. It is very tedious, Amelia. I believe it is the sole reason I proposed to Miss Underwood in the first place. A man’s best defense against the mothers is a wife.”
Amelia said, “I hadn’t realized you were so terrified of a few women and their frilly daughters.”
“I said it was tedious, not terrifying. A man can not go to his club without someone’s brother extolling her virtues or her dowry. Or go to a ball and be required to swing this girl and that around the dance floor. No, I will not resume society until I am assured my name has been stricken off every mother’s list.”
“Perhaps the fiasco has accomplished that.”
Jameson shook his head. “It will take more than that, Amelia. The ton can be very forgiving when money is involved, as you well know.”
They both knew that had she been penniless when that shabbaroon had attempted to win a bride through lies and threats that she’d be either married or living in the remote countryside now. As it was, it had still taken her unbending refusal to acknowledge the rumor and her father’s death to quell the lingering doubts about her virtue.
She nodded. “These rumors will die down as well. And when the time comes that you’re ready for matrimony I’ll find you a girl you can’t flash a grin at and ride roughshod over. You need someone with a backbone, otherwise you are much too daunting.”
“I can’t help it that women find me hard to resist.”
“You can’t help it that you’re a pain in the–”
“My dear! Language. What would your mother say.”
Amelia sniffed. “She should never have let me play with you growing up.”
“Let you? I hardly think she did. Has anyone ever let you do anything? We’ve learned to simply get out of your way.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I’m a man. It’s expected of me.”
Amelia said, “You’re a lunatic, that’s what you are.”
He laughed. “It is so refreshing to be in the company of friends, my dear. Will you dine with me tonight? Cook is making charred pheasant; I know that is your favorite.”
She smiled. “I suppose I have not wearied of your presence yet. Will Robin be joining us?”
Jameson nodded. “I’m sure he will oblige. We are meeting at the club this afternoon. He promised to keep watch for sister-peddling brothers.”
Amelia clapped her hands. “You are going back into society! You have tired of roses, after all.”
“I would never tire of your roses, Amelia, if you offered a drink as well.”
“Hmm. I wonder why I never thought to offer one.”
He stood and bowed theatrically. “If I leave now I believe I shall have just enough time to refresh myself before Robin and I meet. My toilet has suffered these last weeks and I’m afraid I would be barred entrance if I arrived looking like this.” He waved a disgusted hand over his pristine clothing and intricately-tied cravat.
Amelia looked to the heavens beseechingly while he helped her up. “I don’t know how your valet has survived. There’s been no one
to see his work except for Robin and me.”
“Every night I find he’s cried himself to sleep over a large bottle of my finest brandy. This enforced hiatus is costing me a fortune.”
“It would probably cost less if you did not join him.”
Jameson winked. “Indubitably. Until tonight, my dear.”
Robin arrived at the club early and waited for his friend outside. He knew Jameson had not been anywhere public in weeks and was nervous about the reception. Robin was nervous about it as well. It had been easy to keep the horrid rumors about Jameson secret until now and Robin did not know how his friend was going to react. Anger, depression, withdrawal?
Robin patted his forehead with his handkerchief. He should have told Jameson long ago and in private. Why had he listened to Amelia? She’d sounded so certain when she said it would be best if Jameson was kept unawares during his exile; she’d said that he wouldn’t be tempted to correct any rumors if he didn’t know anything about them. And it had worked. Miss Underwood was doing fabulously.
But now Jameson was going public again. Robin knew he had to be told, and it would be best to tell him when he was far, far away from Amelia. Robin loved his sister; he wouldn’t want Jameson to try and throttle her.
Jameson jumped from a hackney and thumped him on the back. “Thank you for meeting me here, old chap. If women were allowed, I’d have brought Amelia and hidden behind her skirt as well. Perhaps I have been away too long after all.”
“You lasted longer than we all thought possible. Even Amelia agrees that you went above and beyond in your seclusion.”
“Yes, she practically threw me out of her garden today. I suppose I must emerge and find out what damage has been done. You do think enough time has passed for Miss Underwood to get the upper hand?”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t found herself engaged already.”
They entered the club, nodding at the few men sitting and reading. It was too early in the day for the younger set but Robin knew that Jameson’s emergence from his voluntary exile would circulate quickly anyway.
They sat and ordered drinks, and Jameson leaned back in his chair comfortably. “I know you have kept it all from me these past weeks, but tell me now Robin, what is the damage?”
