Charles found his horse, mounted, and headed for home. He knew exactly what to do.
Chapter Fourteen
Cassidy watched from behind a row of baskets as Charles sifted through items on the mercantile shelves. He mumbled under his breath constantly repeating one word: Amelia.
She snorted and left the store. Why did everyone say that name? Amelia, Amelia, Amelia, she could say it too. Why was no one walking around with her name on their lips? What had the world come to when she was passed over for a second rate Cajun from small country?
On the street, Charles mounted his horse and set off. Straddling her own mount, Cassidy picked a safe distance and followed.
When she'd met Charles at the Green Estate she hadn't realized what a mess she was stepping into. He was a handsome man and sure to make Victor jealous. She'd spied him across the room talking to Stephen and Millie Green. Standing in a circle of friends, she inquired as to Charles' name. It didn't take long for them to tell her she had picked Victor's nephew, the one he swindled out of his property and his family home.
In the end, she couldn't have planned it better. Victor hated Charles for his lawful right to the property, and Charles hated Victor for stealing it away from him. They were the perfect pair to pit against one another. Her plan would have worked had it not been for the intrusion of little miss prim and proper, Amelia Beaumont. Why did she have to visit right at the precise time Cassidy needed to use Charles?
The horse in front of her galloped along the road toward the Green Estate. Cassidy drew her brows together. Why would Charles go in this direction?
Although she knew he no longer resided at the Vincent Estate, she had taken little time to discover his current residence. Naturally, she had assumed he lived in town, perhaps in an apartment or in a rented home along the main street.
Horse and rider slowed and moved into a dense line of trees. Cassidy kicked her horse's flanks. By the time she arrived the limbs had moved back in place and Charles' point of entry disappeared from sight.
Leaning forward in the saddle, Cassidy studied the landscape. No roof lines dotted the area. No curls of smoke wisped into the air. As far as the eye could see there was little more than foliage. Tall trees hung full with pine needles. Ice crystals caused the limbs to sag. Wind whipped around her, and she drew her cloak tighter.
What a fool's errand she'd brought upon herself. With no way to find Charles she had one of three choices. Ride on to the Green Estate, bypass the Green Estate and head for the Vincent Estate, or turn around and return to town. All options available left her dissatisfied.
She dug in her reticule for her Derringer. The small pistol fit snuggly in her hand. The extra weight assured her it was loaded. Holding it to her chest she prepared for any thug that might jump from the woods and attempt to pounce on her.
Tales of lone women attacked and left for dead ran through her mind. Best to choose the option that led to immediate safety.
Urging the mount forward, Cassidy rounded a bend in the road. From this distance the columns of the Green house looked like those of a Grecian monument such as the Parthenon. She'd visited the ancient city of Athens only once, but the memories would stay with her forever.
As she drew near the turn-off, Cassidy hesitated. It was well known that she'd danced and flirted with Charles at the Green's party. Her actions had been highly frowned upon and discussed ad nauseam in the streets of Walterborough and Charleston.
Unsure of the welcome she'd receive, she pushed the horse onward. The trip to Victor's home wasn't that much farther. Surely she would make it by nightfall.
The sun began its descent, and her confidence wavered. The cool night air blasted her cheeks. Her lips burned and her eyes watered.
When she despaired of ever reaching her destination, a light appeared ahead.
"Move foul beast and we will soon be warm."
The horse answered her voice but only briefly. The sweat that once lathered the horse's hide grew cold to the touch. Puffs of white blasted from his nostrils with each labored breath.
Cassidy dismounted and tugged the reins but the animal refused to move. The horse needed to rest but doing so out in the open was sure to freeze them both.
She led the mare to a field covered with trees. Brown dead leaves littered the ground and crunched beneath her feet.
"Stay here while I get help."
The horse neighed and Cassidy lifted her skirts and ran. Her chest heaved with exertion as she reached the end of the long drive, bounded up the few porch steps, and banged on the door. A slave answered and his gaze roved over her trembling frame.
Admittedly her clothing wasn't in the best of shape. Mud splattered, her skirt's lacy edges hung loose, and gaping holes showed the white of her under things. Unused to scrutiny, Cassidy said, "I need assistance. May I speak with Mr. Vincent?"
"I'm afeared Masser Vincent ain't in at the moment. He done went to town to try and woo Miz Beaumont. Did you know her family is coming to visit in around two weeks and if Mr. Vincent don't hurry along the wooing he might not get another chance?"
Cassidy lifted her chin from her chest. Resigned to face the situation she'd been dealt, she said, "Very well, you shall help me. Grab a coat and come along."
****
The circuitous route Victor took to town was meant to give him time to think as well as to keep him from running into anyone he might know. It wouldn't do for his nephew or Millicent Green to discover his intentions.
The lady was too nosy for her own good. Why wouldn't she let him visit Amelia? Why had she locked her sister away in a guise of recovery? He knew for a fact that others had come to see Amelia on a regular basis. At least he thought he knew. It seemed logical he was the only one being slighted. He was always the one who was slighted.
From the moment of his unexpected arrival into the world, someone had always tried to take what belonged to him. First his mother died in childbirth and then he lost his right to his inheritance.
His older brother, Ray, had expertly convinced their father, Robin, that the land should belong to him after his death. The reasons he gave consisted of Victor's age and immaturity. After extensive pressuring, his father had agreed, a slight for which Victor never forgave him.
At the age of twelve, Charles, his first cousin, had been his best friend and comrade. They had played everything together as if they were brothers. Then he had been sent to a European boarding school while Charles was kept close to home.
He remembered pleading with his father.
"Please don't make me leave. Charles doesn't have to go so, why do I?"
His father had patted the chair beside him and waited for him to settle. "Son, you won't understand this but the truth of the matter is that I'm not Charles' father. I can make you go but I can't make him go."
"That makes no sense."
His chuckle had rent the air. "Indeed. But the facts remain the same. Although you two are the same age, Charles' father, my son, Ray, has a different plan for Charles. You, however, are my responsibility and I promised your mother that you would go away to school. Your brother did it and so shall you."
Victor had relented and left his family and best friend with barely a whimper. Just a few short years after Victor settled in, word arrived that his father had passed. Ray convinced the headmaster there was no reason for his brother to return home for the funeral as his father would long be in the grave before transport could be arranged.
Resentment fed his anger and he came to hate his brother and all things related to him.
This made his relationship with Charles all that more important. They had corresponded often. When Victor turned eighteen he left Europe and returned home. He tried to stay at the plantation, but without his father there, the place seemed like an empty shell. Charles had already gone off to tour Europe, so he was alone.
His brother tried to be friendly in his own way but Victor refused his kindness. It was too little too late. All he could see was how little he
had. The large estate and all its holdings had transferred to Ray upon their father's demise. Victor was given a much smaller estate that once belonged to his mother.
The house she left him sat on Main Street in Walterborough. The townhouse sported several bedrooms and was designed by one of the best designers in the world, yet it held little appeal. Living there was a constant reminder of what he'd lost.
One year passed and Charles had returned home. Victor had been so excited about visiting his nephew and renewing their friendship. Bitterness over his situation had continued to gnaw at him but he beat it back.
Two weeks after Charles' arrival, his parents were killed in a devastating accident. Victor had rushed to Charles' side and offered comfort. For months they worked together. Then everything changed. A litigator from Charleston arrived and read the will.
Victor admitted only to himself that he secretly hoped the entire estate would come to him. But as the words were read a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach emerged.
In the event of Ray Vincent's death the Vincent Estate will revert to Charles Vincent.
The words he'd dreaded for so long were there, spoken, floating around the room like a white elephant.
Meeting the lawyer outside, he had suggested there had been a mistake. What right did his brother have to pass the homestead onto his flesh and blood while Victor still lived? However, the lawyer had disagreed. He went so far as to tell him the will didn't belong to his brother but to his father. The foresight of his father extended so far as to take away the estate from him at this late date!
There were no words to describe the betrayal. Charles had offered to let him stay at the plantation. He said they could work together. Yet Victor couldn't see past his rage and left.
Years passed, but Victor hadn't forgotten his need, his desire, to own the estate. There had to be away. When Charles offered to let him stay and watch over the place while he traveled to New Orleans, Victor had jumped at the chance.
Admittedly, the offer came as a bit of a shock. Their relationship over the past three years had been strained. Charles would invite him to visit, and Victor firmly said no. One day Charles had shown up on his doorstep.
"We need to talk."
Victor had invited him in and sat across from him. Hatred for his nephew had welled inside him and he had bit his cheek until he tasted blood.
"I don't know why you continue to stay away. We are the only family we have left. Won't you come and visit?"
"No," said Victor, studying his nails.
"That is not the answer I'd hoped for."
"It is the only answer you shall get."
"Victor, whatever happened between you and my father, I'm sorry, but I can't change it. We've always been friends. I hate to have this rift between us."
"As do I, but it cannot be helped."
"Will you at least tell me what it is? Perhaps I can rectify–"
Victor had shouted, "There is nothing you can do! My father gave everything I loved away to the likes of you! First he sends me away to that dreadful school, then he dies and my brother refuses to let me come home, and to top everything else my brother passes and the estate passes to you! I don't understand how they could continue to take so much from me. The Vincent Estate is rightfully mine! It is in my blood. I deserve it, not you, not anyone else, just me!"
Charles had stared at him, his mouth agape. He had grabbed his hat and coat and left. No further notes arrived urging him to visit until Charles needed his assistance while he traveled.
Victor had taken the opportunity with a grain of salt. Sullen, he'd agreed to stay. Once the door had closed behind Charles he had immediately formulated a plan. If he could find something in the house, perhaps another will, then everything might change.
Hopes of finding something so obscure fled after searching non-stop for two days. One afternoon when all hope had seemed lost he fell exhausted upon his mother's bed. The room had been largely unchanged since her death.
A canopy rose over the top covered in several layers of white tulle. In the corner of the framework a white envelope had protruded.
Victor had stood on the bed and grabbed the letter. He opened the envelope and pulled out several pieces of aged paper. His heart had thumped against his chest in rapid rhythm as he realized what he held. The original will.
After the find, it wasn't hard to have the property converted into his name and when Charles arrived from his sojourn in Louisiana, he owned nothing. Arguments ensued and Charles attempted to reverse the court's decision but unfortunately for his little nephew it was too late. He'd lost it all, and Victor had finally gained what he'd sought for almost a decade.
Lights from the city came into focus. One of his friends had informed him Amelia Beaumont and the Green's were staying at the town hotel. Stopping in front of the inn, he tied his horse to a post, grabbed his pack, and bounded up the stairs. This would be the start of a beautiful relationship.
Chapter Fifteen
Amelia fought loneliness. After she returned from dinner, Stephen and Millie decided to take a walk while she stayed in the room.
She studied the swirling liquid in the glass she held. A tear dropped onto her hand and she swiped it away. Charles had fled in such a hurry she hadn't had time to say goodbye. Would he always rush into her life and leave just as quickly?
The sound of knocking drew her attention. She placed her glass on a nearby table, and walked to the door. Hope soared in her breast. Perhaps Charles had returned. Plastering a smile upon her face, she straightened her gown and jerked the door open.
"Hello, my dear. Might I come in?"
The sight of Victor caused her to frown.
"I'd hoped for a better reaction but if you will allow me entrance I'm sure I can change your mood."
Amelia forced a smile to her face, took a step back, and he entered. "Forgive me. I didn't expect to see you today."
"I apologize for my unannounced visit, but I needed to see you."
"Indeed," said Amelia as she turned to the side table and filled him a glass.
He took the offering and lifted it to his nose. Closing his eyes, he sniffed. "A good year."
"Stephen has excellent taste."
"In more areas than one," he said his gaze lingering on her frame.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she turned away taking a seat in a high backed chair. Victor sat across from her on the sofa, his arm extended across the back. He patted the seat next to him, but she shook her head. His brows drew together but he said nothing of her refusal.
"What brings you here?" she asked.
"As I said I wanted to see you."
"Well, here I am."
"Yes, here you are."
Silently they sipped at their drinks. Sounds of wood popping in the grate echoed in the room.
"This is very good."
Amelia nodded and wished she was brave enough to ask him to leave so she could be alone.
Victor cleared his throat. "I've been thinking, and I believe I owe you an apology. When I spoke of your sister's party for you as a way of keeping you close at hand, I meant no offense."
"You called me a child."
"Yes, I did, didn't I?" He rubbed his temple. "You must forgive me for the slight. I'm used to dealing with children, and I spoke without thinking."
Amelia placed her glass on a low table between them and folded her hands demurely in her lap.
He continued, "You see at one time I taught at a school."
Amelia unfolded her hands and crossed her legs.
"Hmm, I see you're not impressed with my reasoning. No matter. The truth is I insulted you because I was uncomfortable. I apologize."
"Why were you uncomfortable?" she asked.
He ran a finger under his collar.
"Could it have something to do with a Miss Kyle?"
Victor drained his glass. "Did I happen to mention how good this tastes?"
"Yes, you did. Why are you avoiding my simple question?"
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"Because it is not so simple."
"Very well. If you don't wish to discuss your reasons then please leave. I see no need to continue–"
"Wait. Yes, Miss Kyle was the reason for my discomfort." He stood and paced the length of the room. "You see, I don't understand why she is here."
"I don't remember Millie inviting her to the party," said Amelia quietly.
"I'm sure she didn't. Cassidy is quite forceful and has no qualms acquiring what she wants."
He leaned against the fireplace mantle. Light reflected off his face as it twisted into a grimace.
"The fact is Miss Kyle and I, well we umm, courted for a time. I fear she wasn't happy about ending our relationship."
"I see."
Victor rolled his eyes, lifted his head, and laughed deeply under his breath. "She and I, you see, we were, well it is hard to explain, but we taught together at school, and we became quite close. I told her things, personal things about myself, and she did the same. She took me to her home, and her father and I became friends.
"Oddly enough, I enjoyed his company almost as much as hers." He looked at Amelia but she didn't speak. He sighed. "Miss Kyle and I ended things on rather abrupt terms."
"Why?" Did she really care about his relationship with Miss Kyle? Her stomach knotted as she waited for his answer. Truth was she did care. If Miss Kyle was interested in Victor then she couldn't be interested in Charles. The thought made her giddy.
Refilling his cup, he took a swig, and pursed his lips. "Hard to explain, really. We wanted different things. She wanted me to stay in town and teach while I wanted, well, I wanted to reacquire what rightly belonged to me."
"Which is?"
Victor returned to the sofa and leaned forward on his elbows. He turned his head and faced the flames.
"Well? What did you wish to reacquire?"
He faced her, his expression pained. "I don't know if you would understand. Besides it doesn't really matter." He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked to the door. "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. I'm not normally so rude. I do hope you will give me another chance."
Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2) Page 8
