Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2)

by Felicia Rogers

  "And so you want me to either convince my nephew to step away from Cassidy Kyle or to remove myself from Amelia Beaumont's life. Does that sound about right?"

  "Yep, either one of those will do. You don't have to tell me your plan right now. I know a decision like this ain't a simple one to make."

  "If I do this for you, what will I receive in return?"

  Miles' lips twitched upward on one side. The light of the fire hit his eyes and they glowed with a wicked gleam. "I promise to make it worth your while."

  Victor filled another glass and leaned against the liquor cabinet. "These tasks you request require no small feat. I believe in order to accomplish them I need a more definite answer on my reward."

  "Of course you do. Let's just say it has come to my attention in recent years that boundary lines have been violated."

  "The Green's?"

  "Yep."

  "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  "Yes. I'm saying that newfangled cabin Charles built is not sitting on the Green property but on mine."

  Victor poured Miles a drink and they clinked their glasses together in a toast.

  ****

  Amelia slinked downstairs after lunch time and searched the hallways to ensure they were empty.

  Her stomach grumbled loudly from too many missed meals. She'd hidden in her room for two days. When she looked in the mirror her appearance appalled her. Dark circles rimmed her bloodshot eyes. Her hair was matted to one side of her head.

  Far from presentable, she pulled a robe around her shoulders and decided to sneak to the kitchen. The downstairs hallway was eerily silent as she slipped across the hardwood floor toward the back door. Raised voices came from the study and Amelia stopped outside.

  "Impossible!"

  "I'm sorry Mr. Green but the facts are right there on paper. The cabin is clearly on Mr. Jones' land."

  "But you had it surveyed before–"

  "That's true. I hired Johnston Survey Company to come in and map out your property so the cabin would be at the very corner, just as you requested, but it seems they made an error in their calculations."

  "Then they are at fault."

  "Yes, they are and they will be fined, but that doesn't negate the fact that the cabin now rests on Mr. Jones' land."

  "How much?"

  "Pardon?"

  "How much does he want for the land?"

  "He doesn't want money."

  "Then what does he want?"

  The visitor lowered his tone to a whisper and Amelia struggled to hear.

  Stephen replied, "I don't understand what that means to me."

  Further discussion ensued, and Amelia took advantage of their deep concentration to slip past the door to the outside.

  Devoid of people, the kitchen seemed less homey. Amelia searched the cabinets for bread and cheese. Grabbing both, she placed them in a basket and carried them back to her room.

  The words of Stephen and his companion ran through her mind. She wasn't sure if Charles stayed at the cabin but he did feel comfortable there. What would it mean to him if it was lost?

  Her stomach filled, Amelia dressed. She would take a horse to the Vincent Estate and tell Charles what she'd overheard. It served a twofold purpose, one getting her out of the house and two seeing Charles again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Charles stood in the parlor of his old home and clutched his hat in his hands. The first time he'd been here in years and he'd come to hear this news. Life just wasn't fair.

  "I'm glad you agreed to visit me," said Victor.

  He lounged on the settee with his arm casually lying across the back and his legs crossed. Stuffing peeked through the holes in the fabric and Charles tried to stifle his feelings. He wouldn't care, he just couldn't. There was nothing he could do. He didn't own the place anymore.

  Shoving away his anger, he said, "You didn't exactly give me much of a choice. Does Stephen know?"

  "No doubt his litigator is telling him the news as we speak."

  "But why would Mr. Jones do this now? Why didn't he say something when I was building it?"

  Victor ignored the question and said, "Mr. Jones came to me and made a proposal."

  Charles stomach clinched. "And that is?"

  Victor shook his foot and smoothed his trousers. When he looked up, his lips twitched at the corner and Charles chest hurt.

  Victor said, "He wishes to marry either Miss Kyle or Miss Beaumont. He would like you to back off both of them in order to retain your property."

  Charles blinked rapidly. "What?"

  "You heard me. Rumors have circulated over the countryside that you and Miss Kyle are in a romantic situation and that perhaps you have less than altruistic feelings for Miss Beaumont. Mr. Jones has agreed to sign over the property if, and only if, you promise to stay away from them."

  Speechless, Charles paced the parlor. The room showed other signs of wear and tear. Cracks ran the length of the wooden frames. Dust coated the furniture. The wooden mantle lay lopsided.

  "When was the last time you put money into the house?"

  "What?" asked Victor, dropping his foot to the floor.

  "I asked you when you last put money into the upkeep of the house? Did you fight my father and me just so you could let it crumble around your ears?"

  His voice raised an octave as he rose to his feet. "Of course not! Times have been tough. I – I have struggled just to purchase the necessities."

  "Like your cases of fine wine? Or new tapestries for the townhouse?"

  "How did you know?" he whispered.

  "You aren't the only one who hears rumors."

  Victor waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. Now will you take Mr. Jones' offer or not?"

  Charles clamped his mouth shut. Why did everything come down to him losing a home?

  "If I don't take him up on his deal where will I live?"

  "I am unconcerned with your future residence."

  "That's apparent," said Charles, relaxing his arms to his sides.

  "What I need to know is what you plan to do?"

  Charles shoved his hat on his head and walked toward the front door. He shot a glance over his shoulder and said, "I don't know," before walking outside and climbing astride his horse.

  ****

  Amelia left her hair unfettered. She kicked the sides of the horse until the beast ran. The breeze lifted strands of her hair and she laughed giddily.

  This was her last day of freedom. The note from her parents revealed their arrival date had changed once more. She wished they would stop getting up her hopes. Just when she thought she had all the time in the world to explore, they took it away from her. If she wanted to have all her experiences before their arrival, she guessed she would have to start now.

  Closer to the Vincent property, she tugged the horse's reins and it slowed to a trot. A cloaked rider sped along the driveway. With the hood over the person's head, it was impossible to discern whether it was a man or a woman. Amelia moved into a line of trees until the rider passed.

  Back on the road, she continued to the Vincent Estate. Trees sheltered her from the sun's warmth and Amelia shivered. The wind moaned and groaned as it whipped against the ancient gnarled trees. Dead limbs scratched at tree trunks sending a cornucopia of disturbing sounds.

  The horse shuddered beneath her and Amelia rubbed its head and whispered words of encouragement.

  Stopping in front of the Vincent house, Amelia studied it with a keen eye. Bowed wooden planks lined the surface. Rotted and twisted on the edges the front steps reached out toward her.

  Paint chips littered the porch. Deep scratches reflected in the glass window panes. Amelia gasped and placed her hand over her heart as a curtain parted and she saw nothing but a floating eye.

  Taking slow shallow breaths, she stepped to the door. In small sections wood splinters hung as if an animal had scratched it. A brass knocker in the shape of a lion stared at her, and she gulped.

  Lifting t
he cold object, she allowed it to fall. The sound echoed inside and out and Amelia looked behind herself to make sure she was still alone.

  The door opened, and a male slave stood there exposing a row of perfectly white teeth.

  "May I help you?"

  "Yes, I believe so. I'm here to see Charles Vincent. Is he in?"

  The slave's lips drooped, and he opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as quickly. Like a stone statue, he stood like an impenetrable force.

  When he didn't speak, Amelia tried again. "If he isn't in I don't mind waiting."

  Still he said nothing.

  "Or if you know when he is set to return I can leave and come back."

  Still nothing.

  Amelia stomped her foot. A nailhead poked her through her soft-soled slipper, and she hopped around in a circle.

  "Ow! That hurt!"

  When the pain subsided, Amelia stood tall in an attempt to regain her dignity, but it didn't seem to matter. The man's pose remained unchanged.

  In a last ditch attempt, she pushed at his chest. Unflinching, he continued to stare straight ahead.

  With a huff, she twisted, walked off the porch, and mounted her grazing horse. Over her shoulder she yelled, "When next I see Charles I will tell him of your insolence."

  She galloped away as fast as possible. Wild imaginings of Charles cuddling with Miss Kyle on the parlor sofa passed through her mind and she spurred the horse even faster.

  Tugging backward on the reins, she slowed. Both of them exhaled puffs of white. She needed to calm down before returning to see Millie.

  Perhaps slowing her pace and riding around the property another time might cool her head.

  She took the same route as before ending at the creek. The cold weather caused the water to freeze, and it appeared as if one could walk on the top and slide with wild abandon.

  Not one for dangerous escapades, except in her imagination, Amelia stayed on the edge and pondered. The trail leading to the bear cave was still visible. Going there now seemed rather pointless and even dangerous as a new creature might have taken residence inside.

  There had to be another way to find what she sought. The only footprints embedded in the muddy riverbank belonged to her. She searched around the creek bed but found no path.

  The day Charles rescued her he had stood above. Rock walls covered almost the entire opposite side of the creek. No simple way to determine his location came to mind. Yet she knew there had to be a way. He'd come down the slope and somehow they had reached the cabin. She remembered pebbles falling and making a pinging noise.

  She'd had her horse when they returned to the Green house. And since he hadn't left her for a second that meant he'd retrieved her horse before taking her to the cabin.

  Returning to where her mount grazed, she looked for any obvious trail.

  Desperation to reach Charles filled her. No matter how he'd hurt her she knew she had to tell him the news. He deserved to know that someone tried to claim a place he held dear.

  She mounted her horse, and avoided the path that returned to the road. Brief openings appeared in the trees and Amelia took every one, hoping she didn't get lost. Cresting a hill, she searched for smoke.

  Her heart thumped against her chest as a black wisp rose to the sky. She kicked the sides of her horse and headed in that direction.

  Chapter Twenty

  "What did she want?" asked Victor.

  "I don't know, masser."

  "Then why didn't you let her in!"

  "Because she asked to see Masser Charles and since he wasn't here at the moment I didn't think lettin' her in was a good idea."

  He shooed the slave away and fell into a seat. The tattered upholstery ripped farther and Victor grunted.

  Just as he suspected, his nephew had yet to inform Miss Beaumont of his lack of property. He knew why he kept silent, because the tale made him look like the bad guy. But what possible reason could Charles have? Every time Charles told the story he came out smelling like a rose.

  Could it be his nephew feared losing Amelia's love if she knew the truth? That had to be it! But why did Charles care? Word in town was Cassidy hung all over him like a fine cloak. The thoughts of Cassidy snuggling close to Charles made him sick to his stomach.

  Victor raked his nervous hand through his overly long hair. It was past time for a shave and a trim. Maybe grooming would make him feel better.

  With the slave girl called to his rooms, he left to prepare. After all this time Charles could still affect him with just words.

  His nephew was right. The house was in sore need of repairs. As much as he was willing, he'd told the truth. The money to keep the plantation up just wasn't there.

  The foreman who organized the cotton growing for his brother, Ray, and his father, Robin, had left the moment he stepped foot on the grounds. In fact, many of the paid employees had left—the doctor, the bookkeeper, the cook. All that remained were himself and the slaves. He tried to hire people to run the business end of things but they refused to work for him.

  He blamed it on Charles' lies. If his nephew told the truth that the property rightfully belonged to Victor then it would never have happened, but Charles had to go and tell everyone Victor stole it out from under him.

  No matter, he would find a way to make it grand once again.

  Indeed he believed he had a plan. Lots of men in his station used this method to acquire funds. He would just marry into them.

  This very idea had driven him into town on the night he met Amelia.

  Sleeplessness had plagued him and he often walked the streets in an effort to wear out his body and relax his brain. A stagecoach filled with travelers had halted in front of the hotel and one lady climbed out.

  Confident, she smoothed her skirts, and fairly skipped to the front door. He'd listened to the entire conversation as she spoke to the girl. Her facial expressions had transformed from happiness to despair as the door closed in her face.

  Desire had welled inside him to seize the opportunity but he had hesitated. What woman would stay with a man she barely knew? Could he be lucky enough to entice the young woman so easily?

  Indeed she had allowed herself into his web without a moment's hesitation. Of course his charm had been a factor in the matter.

  If he'd realized who Amelia was before he'd spoken to her, the meeting would never have occurred. Because of that meeting his life had become more complicated.

  The slave arrived and he leaned back. She placed a hot towel on his face and he sighed with pleasure. Using a straight razor, she shaved his stubble. He tried not to think about how easy it would be for her to slit his throat and take his life.

  Compared to most masters, he treated his slaves well. Few worked outside in the fields; instead spending most of their days in the comfort of the house. The cabins that once housed the slaves had caved in on themselves and Victor had allowed the slaves that stayed on to live in the big house.

  Consumed in his thoughts, he didn't realize she had finished until retreating footsteps resounded on the floor.

  He removed the towel, rose, and stood in front of a full length mirror to survey her work. Clean-shaven, his face felt smooth. Shorter in the back and longer in the front, his hair parted along the top. He looked like a new man.

  He turned to walk to his closet and tripped. The wall stopped his fall and he bristled and cursed his clumsiness. Studying the floor, he sighed. Strands of the rug had become undone and caught his foot. He tapped his finger on his forehead. There had to be a solution to his money problems. If he didn't do something quick, he feared Charles predication would be correct, the house would indeed crumble around his ears.

  Marriage seemed the best option, but perhaps there was another way.

  He paced the room, carefully avoiding the unraveling rug. He had told Charles that Miles demanded he leave both women alone. He had done that so he could give Amelia to Miles and force Cassidy to return home. He couldn't marry Cassidy. She was nothing
more than a poor teacher with an influential family member. However, that didn't mean he wanted Charles fawning all over her.

  Pushing his arms into his coat, he tugged at the waist and his finger went through the hem. He lifted his eyes skyward and groaned. Perhaps he needed to rethink his plans. Time was of the essence.

  First he would speak with Miles. Once Miles was satisfied, the deed to part of the Green property would rest in his hand, and he could run Charles out of town for good.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The wisp of smoke came from over the next rise. Amelia wished she was a crow that could fly over the treetops and be at her destination. As it were, tree limbs smacked her face and tugged at her skirts. Twice a limb snagged her gown and almost pulled her from her horse.

  The route narrowed even more and Amelia dismounted to lead the animal. Brambles caught at the mount's sides, and it shied away.

  "Come on, we're almost there."

  But no matter how hard she tugged the beast refused to move. Hands on her hips, she declared, "You stay here then and I'll come back for you."

  The horse nudged her with its head and neighed. Amelia smiled. "I promise."

  She tied the horse to a tree, and patted it on the nose before pushing through the brambles. Emerging on the other side, she was rewarded with the cabin.

  "Finally," she whispered as she gathered her skirts and trekked through the mud.

  She reached the door and knocked timidly. Muttered curses filtered through the wood, and Amelia realized she might have made a mistake.

  "What is it? Can't I ever get any–"

  "Charles, I hope this isn't a bad time, but I need to talk to you."

  He stood in the doorway with his mouth open and stared at her. "What are you doing here?"

  She was eye level with his exposed chest. Heat flushed her cheeks, and embarrassment caught her tongue.

  He must have noticed the direction of her gaze, because he pulled his shirt together and buttoned it. A smile tilted his lips as he repeated, "What are you doing here?"