Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2)

by Felicia Rogers

  "What is that?" asked Cora.

  "It is a maze made of hedges. Stephen claims there is no one left who knows the route to go all the way to the other side."

  "Ah, that ain't true," said Cora.

  "I believe it is," said Amelia.

  "Maybe we ought to go inside and find out for sure. I mean you wouldn't want Stephen to go around spreading lies."

  Amelia rolled her eyes. "Cora, sit down."

  She plopped unceremoniously onto the bench.

  "Mind telling me what is going on with you?"

  "Don't you think Charles is handsome? I mean he was handsome when he visited but now he seems so much…larger."

  "Cora!"

  "What? I'm sixteen, I notice things."

  Amelia shifted.

  "I have to know are you and him, umm, together?"

  "Of course not."

  "Good to know. Do you think Father and Mother like him?"

  "I guess so. Why?"

  "Well because if you aren't interested in him then I might be."

  "Might be what?" asked Amelia.

  "And they say you're the smart one."

  "Cora, speak plainly."

  "I want to court Charles. Is that plain enough?"

  Amelia grabbed her forehead.

  "Amelia, do you feel well? You look green."

  "I'll be fine, but I think I need to lie down."

  "Very well. I think I'll stay here a bit longer."

  Amelia nodded.

  "Before you go, what is your answer?"

  Amelia held her stomach and ran toward the house while shaking her head.

  ****

  "I'm sure we can find a place for you."

  "Thank you, Stephen."

  "But–"

  "There's a but?"

  "There is always a but."

  "Then let's have it."

  "I want to know what happened between you and Amelia. Where was she? How did you find her? Why were you the one to bring her home? In other words I want to know everything."

  Charles picked up his coat.

  "Where are you going?" asked Stephen.

  "Staying here is not worth the cost."

  Stephen frowned. "Get back here."

  Charles stopped.

  "You can't blame me for wanting to know. You two come in together, you run out of here like the hounds of hell are chasing you, and then you come back with Millie's parents in tow. Something is definitely off."

  "Nothing happened."

  "But she did stay with you at the cabin overnight, didn't she?"

  Charles rubbed the nape of his neck. "Yes."

  "And your mad dash out of the house after I told you what the litigator said?"

  "I was headed to confront Victor."

  "Why?"

  "It doesn't matter. Look, if you don't mind I'll rest here tonight and leave early in the morning."

  "What's the rush?"

  "I need to go back to the cabin. There are a few things I want to retrieve."

  "As you wish. But you will return tomorrow night for Christmas Eve dinner?"

  "I will."

  The Beaumonts' early visit had caused space issues, and Charles was placed in one of the smaller bedrooms. Lying on the bed, he rested his arm under his head and stared at the ceiling.

  Somewhere above Amelia slept. Her brown wavy hair splayed against the white of her pillow. Dark lashes flared against the porcelain skin of her cheeks. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear the beat of her heart. Or perhaps it was his own.

  Restless, he tossed and turned throughout the night. Morning brought relief. Before the sun rose, Charles dressed and slipped from his room. The others still slept as he mounted his horse and rode toward the cabin.

  Nearing the turn onto the trail, Charles frowned. "What are you doing here?"

  Cassidy's mount moved skittishly beneath her. "Thank goodness! I despaired of ever seeing you again."

  "I'm here. What do you want?"

  "What do I want?" she asked breathlessly. She paused before adding, "Why I thought we made an agreement that you would pretend to court me while I pretended to court you. Remember the twofold purpose? Remember making Victor and Amelia jealous?"

  "I remember. But I've changed my mind. Now if you will excuse me."

  She dismounted, stood in the middle of the road, and placed her hands on her hips. "Why?"

  "Because I have," said Charles.

  "Forgive me, but I believe I deserve an explanation," said Cassidy.

  "Sorry, but I'm in a rush."

  "You're not leaving here until you tell me why you have changed your mind. If you're worried about hurting Amelia's feelings and her never forgiving you, then don't. I promise to explain the entire situation to her once Victor comes to his senses."

  "That's not the problem."

  "Then what is?"

  What would it hurt to tell her the truth? Gathering his courage, he said, "The truth of the matter is when I lost my estate, with your father's help…" She cringed, and he swore under his breath.

  "Please finish," she said.

  Taking a nicer tone, he continued. "I built a cabin on Stephen's property and now Victor has found a way to take that away as well."

  "What?" She gasped and placed her hand over her heart.

  "Do you know Miles Jones?"

  She scrunched her nose. "Yes. He is a terrible, distasteful man."

  "Yes, well, he wants to marry either you or Miss Beaumont. To achieve his goal, he told Stephen and Victor to dissuade me from seeing either of you."

  "I don't understand," she said, drawing her brows together.

  "If I want to keep my home, I can't court you or Miss Beaumont."

  "B-but," she stuttered.

  "Sorry Cassidy. I really have to go. If you have any other questions you should take them up with Victor."

  "Trust me, I fully intend to."

  "Don't stay on the road long. Vandals travel through here."

  "I will heed your advice. And Charles?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry I got you into this. If I would have just spoken with Victor in the beginning, perhaps some of this could have been avoided."

  "I wouldn't want to dishearten you, but I'm not sure Victor told me of Mr. Jones' plan to free you."

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "Stephen's litigator mentioned I needed to stay away from Amelia. Victor was the one who mentioned both of you."

  "That could mean anything."

  Charles shrugged. "Believe what you will. At this point I wouldn't put anything past Victor."

  "So you think what? That he planned to give me over to Mr. Jones?"

  "I can't be sure, but that's my impression. He gives you to Miles and saves Amelia for himself. Her family owns land in New Orleans. Victor is just devious enough to attempt it."

  She stomped her foot. "I'll kill him! I'll kill him! Imagine thinking he can just pass me off to that, that, thug of a man. Nasty, vile, atrocious, smelly, no way will he get away with this…"

  Cassidy continued to rant as Charles led his horse onto the trail. Dead limbs snaked out to grab him and he shoved them aside as he rode. Few people knew this route, which served him well. Within minutes he tugged the reins and stopped.

  All he had to do was find the presents and he would be ready to head back to the Green Estate.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Anger warmed Cassidy as she rode. The Vincent Estate came into focus, and she tapped the horse with her heel and urged it forward. Before the house the animal shuddered to a halt and Cassidy fought to maintain her seat.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she studied the manse. It was Christmas Eve, and no lights shone through the windows. No carriages or horses walked around outside. No sounds of merriment or cheer echoed around her.

  The stairs creaked beneath her weight, and she cringed. Reaching the door, she knocked timidly. A slave she'd not met before answered.

  "May I help ye?"

  "Yes.
I need to see Victor Vincent."

  "I'm afraid he is still abed. I'll tell him ye rang." The slave girl went to push the door closed, but Cassidy barred it with her foot.

  "I'll wait."

  "But–"

  "I'll take a cup of hot tea in the parlor. And please find some candles. This place is positively dreary."

  The young lady left her. Minutes passed, and Cassidy wondered if the slave had forgotten her request.

  She paced the chilly room. When the slave neglected to return, she placed logs on the fire and stoked the flames. Heat permeated the immediate area, and Cassidy huddled close by.

  "You shouldn't sit so close, miz. The fire might hit your clothes."

  The slave placed a full tray on the table.

  "Thank you for the warning."

  The young woman nodded. "Is there anythin' else I can git ye?"

  "No, thank you. Just inform Mr. Vincent of my arrival."

  "But Miz, if'n I do he'll be an absolute bear. Why there was this one time I woke him up and he liked to have bit my head off."

  Cassidy widened her eyes.

  "Pardon me for the honesty, but when the masser is asleep or away, we's kind of on our own here. Don't get much company 'cept for that pig Mr. Jones. Don't be sayin' I called him that or I'm sure to go to the whippin' post."

  "I won't say a word. And I promise if you wake up Mr. Vincent, I will take full responsibility."

  "Perhaps that bein' the case ye should wake him yourself?"

  Cassidy considered the idea. "I think you've presented me with a solution."

  "Upstairs, second door on the left."

  "Thank you."

  The young lady exited, and Cassidy fixed a cup of tea. Sugar cubes bobbed and floated before dissolving in the hot liquid.

  Warmed by the fire and the drink, Cassidy finally felt up to her task. Hitching her skirts, she tip-toed up the stairs. Creak after creak followed her ascent. If Victor wasn't awake by the time she arrived it would be a miracle.

  The second door on the left was cracked. Cassidy pushed it and slid inside.

  Embers glowed in the grate. No light filtered through the closed curtains. With a hand on the wall she headed for the bed. She kicked a piece of furniture and swore under her breath.

  Before she could react, Victor stood in front of her, his arm bared across her neck. He gritted his teeth. "Who are you?"

  "Victor, it's me, Cassidy."

  His arm dropped, a whoosh of air escaped his mouth, and he stepped back. He didn't speak but went to the fireplace and threw in a couple of logs before lighting a candle.

  "What are you doing in my room?"

  She crossed her arms over her chest fighting to maintain control. "We need to talk."

  "Later." He tugged on his morning robe.

  "I've seen knobby knees before," she said.

  "This is not about my knees."

  "Then you should have no qualms about us talking."

  His shoulders slumped. "Cassidy, go downstairs. I'll be there in a minute."

  "Why should I? I'm perfectly fine with talking right here."

  "Well I'm not. I don't feel comfortable talking to you in my night clothes. Now go downstairs."

  She reluctantly obeyed. The wait seemed interminable as she paced the empty parlor.

  "I'm here. What do you want?" Victor found a seat and stared at her.

  "What a welcome. I thought you would be happier to see me," she said.

  "Why?"

  "Because you've told Charles to stay away from me or he will lose his land."

  "Did he tell you that?" asked Victor, shifting on the settee and scratching a place behind his ear.

  "Yes, and he also told me he was ordered to stay away from Amelia Beaumont. His impression is that you plan to keep Amelia for yourself and give me over to Miles Jones. But I told him this was impossible. You would never do such a thing to me."

  "Well I – I," he ran a finger around his collar.

  "Now I've come to you for the facts. This is your one and only chance to tell me the truth. What is going on?"

  Victor leaned forward, his hand shook as he lit another candle.

  Cassidy sighed and grabbed his shaky hand. They gazed into each other's eyes. "Victor, my father should never have helped you gain this property."

  He frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted. "I know you did it for me, for us. I know you thought I would love you more if you had land and wealth, but that's just not true."

  He pulled his hand free. "You lie!"

  "What?"

  "You say you would love me no less if I was still a teacher, but I heard you."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I overheard you tell the headmaster if only I had land and an important family then your father would be more likely to accept me. So don't deny it. I will never believe you."

  "You were listening?"

  "Yes, I was, and it was the worst day of my life."

  "Victor, I need to tell you something," she said.

  "What could you possibly say that would take away what you've already said?"

  She studied her hands. Lifting her gaze, she fought the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. "I lied to the headmaster."

  "I already told you I wouldn't–"

  She interrupted before he could continue. "I know you said you wouldn't believe anything I say, but I'm telling the truth." She stood and paced the room, tapping her forehead until it hurt. She stopped and stared at him. "The truth is the headmaster asked for my hand."

  "He what?"

  "As shocking as it may be, yes, he asked for my hand. I knew you would be upset and my father might be tempted to say yes, so I told him a lie. I told him my father would be completely unsatisfied if my husband held no lands or titles. It did the trick. He left me alone. I had no idea you were privy to the conversation."

  "But–"

  She took his hands in hers and knelt before him. "Don't you see, I have always loved you? Everything I've done was because I loved you."

  "What about Charles?"

  "Charles?" She shrugged, before adding, "I was simply using him to make you jealous."

  Victor gnawed at his lip as he no doubt pondered her statements. Her purpose in coming to the Vincent Estate came back to her, and she dropped his hands.

  "Now we've established the truth about my feelings, let's address yours."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "You haven't told me why you told Charles to stay away from myself and Miss Beaumont? Was that so you could keep Amelia for yourself and then give me to Mr. Jones? Or the other way around? What were you planning to do?"

  ****

  The words Cassidy spoke were like a dream come true. She loved him despite his monetary worth? How could it be? All this time he'd schemed to win her affections only to discover it wasn't needed.

  She stared at him expectantly waiting for an answer. What would he tell her? Would he tell her he planned on taking neither of them for himself? That Amelia was reserved for Mr. Jones and she was reserved for spinsterhood? Would he lie and say he wanted her to reside with him at the Vincent Estate?

  Right now what he wanted — no needed — was peace and quiet. He needed to think. To reason through these new developments. To punish Hilda for letting Cassidy into the house. For allowing her to come to his room and catch him unawares. Why the sun hadn't even come up and he was already dressed!

  "Victor, I'm still waiting."

  "I'm well aware that you're waiting."

  "Do you have nothing to say for yourself, for your actions?"

  Her father had been instrumental in him regaining the property. By chance he'd discovered her father's career and he'd used it to his full advantage. It was a tragedy that he'd fallen in love with Cassidy along the way. But as with most people who fell in his path, they all came out scathed. Cassidy would be no different.

  "I'm sorry you're hurt, but Miles made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

/>   "An offer? What kind of offer?"

  "An offer to further injure my nephew, of course."

  "I don't understand."

  "Of course not. Why would you? Look, all you need to know is that I don't care who Miles marries as long as he marries one of you."

  "B-but, that is preposterous! I have no intentions of staying here and marrying, and I'm pretty certain Miss Beaumont is headed back to Louisiana in a couple of weeks. How do you plan on accomplishing your goal?"

  He walked to a table and filled a sniffer with brandy. The liquid burned as it raced along his throat. "You ask too many questions."

  "And you don't ask enough. What do you get if he marries one of us?"

  He laughed an evil maniacal laugh. "Why, I get Charles' current home."

  Cassidy's deepening frown caused a twinge of guilt.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Charles returned to the Green Estate. Light spilled through the windows, highlighting the holly branches attached in the corners of the frames. Music blared through the thick walls.

  A wreath with a large bow decorated the door. He knocked. A smile covered his face as Millie opened the door and welcomed him inside.

  "You've come at the perfect time. We just finished caroling and now we're sitting down to dinner."

  Filled to capacity, the table held every family member and a few of the household servants. Those who served, ate in the kitchen.

  Shyly, he sat across from Amelia and Cora. The youngest Beaumont sister batted her lashes and blinked rapidly.

  "Ouch! Why did you kick me?" said Cora, leaning forward to massage herself under the table.

  "Be quiet," said Amelia, sending him an overly large smile.

  "I will not. You kicked me, and I want to know why."

  Between clenched teeth, Amelia said, "We'll talk about it later."

  "We can talk about it now."

  They bickered until Henri rose. From the head of the table, he lifted his hands in a prayerful pose.

  "Thank you Lord for the bountiful meal. For allowing us to be here with our family, the new and the old. May gratefulness fill us more and more each day. Amen."

  Heads rose and hands shot out. Bowls filled with seasoned potatoes, boiled corn, green beans, and a plethora of other sumptuous items passed from hand to hand. Plates filled, the room echoed with a clash of silverware and grunts of pleasure.