The Prince Regent, George Augustus Frederick, who was also still the Prince of Wales, nodded. Amelia’s father was the first man to step forward. He hesitated for a heartbeat. Then taking a deep breath, he advanced further toward the Prince Regent.
He rested one knee on the knighting stool with the velvet-padded surface and lowered his head. This elaborate piece of furniture was carved with a gilt frame in the Louis XVI style.
The Regent did not utter a word. He just raised the knighting sword and tapped both of Amelia’s father’s shoulders. After which, an elongated, dark-blue velvet box was handed to him, containing the order of his rank and the deed was done. He was Sir Thomas Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom. And that was that. The entire process was repeated for the other candidates and the ceremony was over.
Like a crash of rhinos, the Prince Regent dashed off in the direction of the door that led to the gallery overlooking the garden and the Mall. When Amelia next saw him, he was attacking the assortment of delicacies on a long table that had been set up during the knighting ceremony. She watched him a while longer until she was interrupted.
“Amelia dear, I would like to present Lord Templeton French, oldest son to the Duke of Brandon,” said her father in a proud voice.
When she turned around, she saw her mother gushing with all sorts of emotions, none of which Amelia shared. She gulped. It was the arrogant-looking man she saw earlier.
“Well, do say something, Amelia,” chided her father. “She must be so overwhelmed by her father being knighted and now this – to be presented to the son of such an illustrious peer of the realm,” chittered her father in an attempt to ingratiate himself of the duke’s son.
Amelia could have killed him. He was behaving like a sniveling and groveling fool. However, she felt slightly uneasy under Lord Templeton French’s intense scrutiny. It was not a nice look and definitely not what she was seeking in a man. Before her was a male specimen who most definitely was a misogynistic sort with sprinkles of the vile to add to his unpleasantness. She did not know why she thought that, but her gut spoke volumes to her – the man had the visage of a coward.
“How do you do, Miss…oh, no; you are now the Honorable Amelia Carlyle. You must be pleased?” he said, chuckling like a fruitcake, while he scanned her body lecherously in a forlorn attempt to find some spot of her that was unclothed.
For the first time, Amelia was happy that she had so many garments on. Although not unattractive, this man had rapiers for eyes, unkind lips and sharp features. He stood in such contrast to her sweetness and softness of both character and appearance.
All Amelia could do was feign female timidity and some semblance of awe – Goodness, if only I was not so well brought up, she thought. It was all the invitation he needed – the introduction continued with her parents gushing admiration and awe beside the tedious lord.
However, what had vexed her the most was the cadence of his voice. It started off as a squeak that soon morphed into a series of trills and unconvincing attempts at baritone deepness. Lord Templeton French may never have ended puberty. It was what Amelia thought all the while he was telling her about how incredibly marvelous he was.
When the tone of his voice miraculously lowered into a deep hum, she steeled herself for the continuation of the introduction – she prayed for some change in his manner; Amelia wanted to believe that perhaps her initial opinion of the man was wrong; the pitch of his voice perchance only a small anomaly.
When Lord Templeton French started regaling her with the details of his group of acquaintances that were, to her mind, obviously more accomplished and important for they constituted the ‘Dandy Club’, she knew that she had been right all along: this man considered himself more stylish than Beau Brummell, a greater ‘Corinthian’ and sportsman than Lord “Beau” Petersham, Charles Stanhope, The Viscount of Petersham and even wittier than William Arderne, The Baron Alvanely. The hubris of the man, she thought.
What a windbag; you’d never catch any member of the ‘Dandy Club’ boasting of their accomplishments with such obvious self-aggrandizement, continued Amelia, her mind providing more fuel for her dislike. She prayed his monologue would be brief as she bored her emerald-green eyes into him, hoping, praying that he might back off.
“It is an honor to meet you, My Lord,” said Amelia, curtseying. It was all that came to mind as a riposte as excellent upbringing instinctively took a hold of her.
“The honor is mine, my dear,” he said, bowing and brushing his lips on the back of her hand.
Amelia cringed – my dear; I’ll show you my dear, you arrogant toad. There was something inherently wrong with what was going on. Her parents were oblivious to the happenings or were they? As she had been brought up, she made a few compliments about his exalted lineage and how accomplished his family was and closed her mouth – deed done – oh, no. He has more to say.
Lord Templeton French was about to open his mouth again. Amelia saw that he flitted gazes at the profligate buffet to his left. I don’t want to share food with you. I just want to leave and be as far away from you as soon possible.
“Lord Templeton French, do tell us how does your dear papa fair? I pray the gout is not as acrimonious as one hears.”
God, mother, you are so out of touch. But thank you - you saved me from having to converse further with the man – for how much longer I wonder?
While Lord Templeton French spoke with her parents, he constantly shot furtive gazes in her direction. When he smiled, it seemed like it was an effort or that he had just spent an hour on the privy.
The color drained from her face when the young lord, who was no older than twenty-four, mentioned that he would love to introduce her father to his. The words were accompanied by another glimpse in her direction – the grin that escorted it was more of a sneer. This is all getting out of hand. Father has to stop this. I know where this is going.
Her mind worked at twice its usual pace as her father started to discuss business with the duke’s son. Amelia heard none of the words. All she could do was stare at the man’s malevolent looking mouth as it moved. Each time he spoke, his lips twitched upwards unpleasantly. What was worse was that he was lecturing her father about the shipping business, even though it was apparent that he had no clue on the subject.
“You look downright bored to death, my dear. Someone as beautiful and as young as you should never have to put up with the tedium of idle business talk. Come, young lady, let me show you some of the delicacies we have on offer here at Carlton House. Afterward, I would like to delight you with some of my newest additions to my art collection.”
Before the prince regent could whisk an almost fainting Amelia away, he turned to Lord Templeton French. “My Lord, ‘tis most unbecoming to discuss business in my house – I shall not have it. You are surrounded by some of the most exquisite artwork in the world – I suggest you regale yourself with it and not bore lovely young ladies with the tedium of your commercial avarice…good afternoon.”
“Your Royal Highness,” said the others in unison and almost toppling forward and stumbling with their bows and curtseys.
“I was not aware Amelia was acquainted with the Prince Regent. How absolutely wonderful…ha, ha, ha,” said Amelia’s mother.
Sir Thomas rolled his eyes at his wife’s stupidity. He could have strangled her as he watched his daughter exchange words with the regent. He quickly returned his attention to the duke’s son. “I have a proposal for you…”
Chapter 3
The Dream
Women’s laughter could be heard on the second floor of the Carlyle residence in London Mayfair. It came from Amelia’s room that had high ceilings in imitation of the reception rooms downstairs. A fire burned in the hearth because it still got rather chilly at night despite it being June.
“He should be dashing, handsome and brave and strong,” said Amelia with dreamy eyes.
“Not too handsome ma’am. The ones that look too good always have roving eyes, ye sees,” s
aid Anna.
Anna Titbits was Amelia’s lady’s maid. She was in charge of her hair, clothing, and any other personal tasks her mistress required of her. In other words, she was the female version of a gentleman’s gentleman or valet as the Americans liked to call them.
She was a petite sort with the sweetest of complexions: warm brown doe-like eyes, constantly smiling and a round face. Her entirety was like a mirror to her heart and soul. If any measurement could be applied to such things, then she was all gold and gems.
“Alright, let’s beg to differ on that one, Anna.” Amelia pressed her lips together in thought. “I…”
Anna tittered. “You do like ‘em gorgeous, don’t you ma’am.” She smiled as she ran a comb through her mistress’s hair.
“I don’t see why not. But what you said has me worrying. Maybe you are right and a gentleman who is not too good-looking might be better suited.”
“You are so beautiful, ma’am. No man would ever leave you.” She paused until her face lit up even more. “I would give anything to have hair like yours,” said Anna, looking at her mistress in the mirror attached to the dressing table.
Amelia took a moment to study her reflection. She knew that she was not unattractive, but she had never considered herself beautiful. She had moss-green eyes and high cheekbones. However, what she was most grateful for was her pixie nose. Fortunately, her mother’s side of the family had won out on that one. Her ash-black hair tumbled down from her head in a series of silky tresses.
She lifted her hand to touch the porcelain colored skin on her face. It felt smooth and was without blemish. As she let her mind wander back to the topic of a dashing man, her lips relaxed, displaying their fullness. Her head was perched on her neck like a rose blossom on a stem.
“The man that marries you, ma’am, will be the luckiest alive,” said Anna.
“Thank you, Anna. You are always so kind to me.”
“You are kind to me.” Anna thought for a moment. “The both of us will find love one day…I know because I dreamt it.”
“You dreamt it?”
“Aye,” said Anna in her typical Scottish lilt.
“What was the dream about?” asked Amelia, her curiosity piqued.
She always found Anna such a pleasure to be with. In a way, she thought her far more pleasant company than all of the inflated windbags that attended her mother’s invitations. She was so free-spirited and real. What you saw was what you got. Secretly, Amelia wished she could be the same - to break free and get away from the constraints of society. The prince regent does what he wants, she thought, remembering her chat with him earlier that day. Why can’t I?
“The dream was about us travelling on a long journey. It was by sea, it was.”
Amelia giggled.
“Aye. But somehow, we never got to where we were supposed to be going,” said Anna with a deep frown on her forehead.
“Where did we end up then?”
“With two dashing men. Yours was more handsome than mine…”
This made Amelia laugh again.
“But they were good men. I saw it. I felt it. They made us truly understand what love is, ye ken. Sorry, ma’am, I slip into my native Scottish when I get excited. I meant you know.”
“It must’ve been quite some dream for you to get so excited,” said Amelia, grinning mischievously.
After they had laughed for quite some time, Amelia was the first to get serious. “What is love…I mean I know I love my parents (she frowned), I love horses and dogs. But what is it when you feel it for a man?”
“Ooooh, that’s easy, ma’am.”
Amelia arched an eyebrow, somehow disbelieving the certainty in her lady’s maid’s assertion.
“Ye…sorry, you see when you love a man without inhibitions, he is everything and all. You want nothing else but to be around him and smother him with kisses when you get the chance.” Anna shrugged. “You would do anything for this man, no matter what – that’s it, I think.”
Amelia wasn’t sure. “Sounds a bit like servitude to me. Here, let me try…I think the love felt for a man is when you cannot sleep at night when he is not beside you; your heart aches when he is with you because you cannot control the joy you feel when you see that love you harbor for him returned to you in full just by looking in his eyes. Love is when two people become as one in the realms of the physical and fuse on a higher plane in the kingdom of the spirit and soul.”
Anna brushed a wayward tear from her cheek. “That was beautiful, ma’am. You certainly have a way with words.” Her torrid emotions soon settled, and an impish grin slid across her mouth. “You wouldn’t mind getting into more detail on the physical side of things, would you?”
“What…oh…I see.” Amelia blushed. Usually, such intimacy between servant and employer was frowned upon and would result in the servant’s immediate punishment. However, Amelia and Anna were as close as they could get to being friends. They could never be seen in public or in the presence of her parents as equals, but when they were alone, Anna still did her duty, but the banter was always light between them.
Amelia never really enjoyed the company of her kind all that much. Anna was like a breath of fresh air. In their time together, Amelia had even taught Anna how to read and write. Anna was a formidable student and very clever. If times were different, Amelia always thought.
“You are as red as a tomato, ma’am,” said Anna, barely containing her mirth.
In moments, Amelia joined in. They laughed with such free abandon that the tears streamed down their faces.
“What’s all the ruckus about?” asked Amelia’s mother, swanning into the bedchamber dressed in her long silk nightdress and looking like a wraith.
“Oh, nothing, Mother. We were just laughing because I dropped one of my rings into my face cream pot and we had trouble fishing it out.”
“Oh, I see,” said the mother in the most matter-of-fact manner imaginable. “Titbits, out. I need to speak to my daughter alone.”
“Yes, milady.” Anna scurried out of the room and shut the door.
“What a filthy accent that girl has. Where is she from – the colonies?” She began to pace up and down the room, making Amelia even angrier because of the interruption.
“Come on, Mother, out with it. It must be some new bit of juicy gossip if you took the trouble in coming here at this hour.”
A sneer played on Lady Carlyle’s lips. “Oh, it’s not gossip. What I have is news.”
Amelia felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She despised it when her mother was in one of her scheming moods. The last time this happened, she had to spend an entire afternoon with the most tedious oaf – chaperoned at a distance of course. But their escort had been so meticulous in the execution of their duties that she had to listen to the bore of a man without interruption. Every time she had turned back, her mother had waved at her and nodded her encouragement.
“What fact, Mother?”
“Well, there’s no need to beat around the bush. So, I shall just come out and say it…you are to be presented to the Duke of Brandon at his London residence this Sunday to commence talks about a possible betrothal between you and his son – isn’t that grand?” She paused. “It’s just a shame that darling young man, Airey, cannot be there. He’s been tasked with something important in British America – Canada or something or other. Anyway…”
Amelia couldn’t believe her ears. So, this is it. I am to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. I knew the two of them had something up their sleeves. They had been scheming the entire carriage trip home. I should have known.
Her mother spun on her heels. “I just thought you’d like to know the good news,” she said on the way out of her room.
The tint on Amelia’s face went an even lighter shade. I am trapped. There is nowhere for me to go. Before she could stop them, the tears rolled down her cheeks. Amelia was not one to bare her emotions so brazenly, but this was too much. She asked herself why her parents couldn’t s
ee the true nature of the man they were asking her to marry. It was plain for the world to see.
“Oh, ma’am…what happened?” asked Anna, entering Amelia’s room like a whirlwind.
“They, they…” Amelia couldn’t get the words out. Her crying became more intense as Anna took her into her arms and cradled her like a swaddling babe. They just remained still with Amelia on the stool with her nose nestled into Anna’s hair. Anna kneeled before her and pressed her mistress closer as if she was trying to squeeze out all of the melancholy from her body.
“Remember what I told you about my dream. You will never marry that man, Amelia,” said Anna at last. She had all of the details because she had been eavesdropping at the door the entire time.
Amelia looked down and into Anna’s eyes. She was not sure whether she was more surprised by her lady’s maid’s use of her Christian name or the ridiculousness of the notion of a dream coming true and the two of them finding love.
A Pure Lady for the Broken Duke_A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 30
