“Perhaps. Over the years, memories have muddled. Yet your current position here needed attention. I received reports you’d visited your solicitor and Lamb Street several times. I needed to act and secure the property meaningful to my son. Gavin won’t answer my letters and the butler at the property is tenacious; still, I meant to acquire the town house to make reparation, perhaps mend fences. It’s why I need you to sell me the property.”
“You’re too late, but it’s of little matter. I would show you no kindness after the hatred you circulated in regard to my family. Society’s scorn means little at this juncture. I’ve no desire to participate in the active ton.”
“Aah, so you haven’t changed. Still stubborn and hell-bent in your decision making. True, ten years brings with it perspective, and while your family scandal may not be the current on dit, my actions sought to ensure my son remained free from ridicule. All instinct led me to believe you meant to reside in the city. I assumed Lady Whittingham—”
“Don’t speak of the lady. Stay away from her. You’re a poison more powerful than any suspected rumor you fed into the ton’s addiction.” Words could never sufficiently express his remorse. Nilworth gained what he wanted, regardless it was not Lunden’s intent. “The Lamb Street address now belongs to your son. I personally delivered the paperwork not an hour ago.”
Nilworth appeared dubious before his expression melted into smug approval. “Then there is nothing for it. Our business is concluded.”
A swarm of bitter emotions held Lunden quiet. He departed the house and regained Hades, setting down the lane at a breakneck speed, anxious to be rid of everything Nilworth represented—the censure and frivolity of the upper ten thousand, manipulation of good to support evil, and the perpetuation of dishonesty. He steered Hades with a nudge of his knees, his fists wrapped tightly around the leather straps while his mind spun in myriad directions. His business in London may be concluded, the haunted memories of his past finally laid to rest, but where did that leave him? He remained stagnant on his self-made tightrope, paralyzed between the past and the future, unwilling to move forward and afraid to fall into the oblivion Amelia’s love offered. He was a bloody fool, hardly different from himself ten years ago, yet it was no less than he deserved for returning to a city that never showed him kindness. He’d destroyed a valued friendship, broken an innocent heart, and now faced a hollow future rife with more regret than ever before.
* * *
“Make each word count, as I’m short on time and patience.” Matthew strove to keep his tone civil though a note of warning laced the curt command. He’d shown Lunden loyalty for over a decade. He didn’t deserve his friend’s blatant disregard. And Amelia. This wasn’t the first time she’d betrayed his wishes. Soon, she too would be none of his concern.
Her shadow fell across the desk where he worked to reassemble his puzzle. He’d rebuilt much of the Galapagos Islands and now concentrated on the Adriatic Coast, yet his heart wasn’t in the effort, distracted by the ill feelings created when he’d discovered his sister in Lunden’s bedchamber, and the confrontations that ensued.
“I know I’ve made things difficult.” She took a long breath as if fortifying for certain battle.
“Correct, although your rebellion has done little except destroy a long-standing friendship. I’m confident Collins will still have you. Your indiscretion shouldn’t disturb him, your purity never in question. I dare say he never wanted a missish wife, although you should bid farewell to your recalcitrance.”
“Matthew, I’m mortified.”
“As well you should be. Your reckless behavior speaks of your consistent selfishness.” He wouldn’t succumb to his sister’s pleas. Didn’t he deserve a satisfactory future as much as she? At last the opportunity to assume the position of chief officer hung before him, a golden ring he merely needed to reach for and grasp.
“What drives you to be so unfeeling? You speak as if I’m some appalling hoyden.” Hurt permeated her complaint.
“If the slipper fits . . .” He rounded on her, shifting his weight to his good leg, his voice low with tension, and her surprise was evident, her brows bowed and lips pressed tight. “You begrudge I dare to achieve something for myself, when you’ve done nothing but perpetuate trouble for your own gain. Happiness is fleeting. Intelligence is lasting. Be smart and make the right decision. You need to be married and Collins needs a wife. You’re capable of the math.” He speared her with a stare meant to embolden his sarcasm.
She ignored his baited reply and he fixed his attention on the assorted shapes in his palm.
“My feelings for Lunden are true.”
He would not weaken with her mislaid emotion. “He’s an unsuitable match in every aspect.”
Her expression grew chary, yet with a flick of her chin, all defiant confidence returned. “He’s done nothing dishonorable. The complete opposite, actually. He’s protected his brother and family’s reputation while sacrificing his life in return.”
“Would that society heard your outrage and indignation, dear sister, but the rumor-mongering ton cares little for truth, ever anxious to distort reality in pursuit of a tasty bit of gossip to feed their avaricious appetite. It takes but one whisper into an attentive ear. Your life would be desolate, ostracized by the uppers for the fleeting attention of a broken man devoutly unwilling to marry.” He allowed the words to settle. “If he did choose a bride, I’d assume he’d guarantee a measure of peace, rather than a female with a talent for trouble.” He could see his words stung, but they needed to be said in an effort to dissuade her misplaced feelings.
“Nevertheless, I won’t marry Lord Collins. He doesn’t seek a wife in truth, not one in accordance to the wedding vows.”
“You’re far too intelligent to believe that’s the way of the world. Truth is a fanciful notion, and a virtue not often considered when fulfilling obligations or satisfying a need.” He dropped the pieces onto the table and grasped his cane, pitching his weight forward, the ache in his leg as sharp as the stab to his pride. “I’m needed at the society. Elections are tomorrow and I have business to settle. I know you view this arrangement as less than satisfactory, but I assure you it’s the fear of the unknown that motivates your rebellion. Once you are ensconced in married life you will find a degree of tolerance. Most people do.” He moved to the door, ready to take his leave. “And before you bludgeon me with Charlotte’s condition, I implore you to consider the whimsical illusions the two of you entertained since childhood. Life is not a fairy tale. Compromise is necessary for some degree of contentment. People grow old, bear sickness, suffer loss. It is the way of things, and as soon as you accept this stark reality you will find peace.”
“You’re right.”
Her immediate complacence had him twisting to view her face, but Amelia’s expression appeared passive, all usual fight and bluster appeased. Would that he believed her response to be true, but a flicker of suspicion narrowed his eyes and he had no time to consider it.
Calling for his carriage, he arrived at the society as a misty drizzle began to fall. Damnation, must it rain every time he needed to climb the marble steps leading to the hall? His leg ached like the devil. He clenched his teeth and ambled out of the carriage, batting away his driver’s extended hand and grasping tightly to the opened umbrella foisted in his direction. With caution he approached the steps, juggling his cane and umbrella to one hand in order to press his palm against the knotted spasm in his left thigh. Eventually, he managed the stairs, shucked the umbrella, and stood brushing raindrops from his sleeves when Winthrop burst into the foyer, his eyes alight with anxious bidding.
“I’ve been on watch for your arrival. Have you heard the news?”
“What now?” A ripple of acute pain throbbed down his leg. The last thing he desired was another wrinkle in his rumpled plan. “You’ve become a veritable magpie when it comes to fresh information.”
Winthrop waved away the snipe with no consequence and grasped Matthew’s elb
ow in a frantic tug, intent on steering him from the main entrance to a corner in a blatant attempt at privacy. Matthew scoffed, convinced the low rumble throughout the meeting hall bandied whatever news Winthrop sought to keep confidential.
“Out with it.” He regarded his friend thoughtfully. “I’ve paperwork to see to and people to greet in order to ensure I gain the majority vote. I’ve no time for idle gossip if I’m to convince the board I present the wisest choice.”
“That’s just it.”
This time it was Winthrop’s noticeable pause that drew his attention. As Matthew eyed his friend, a shadow of unease slid down his spine, bringing with it the surety this news would not be welcomed. He pierced his friend with an intense glare and steeled his courage in preparation, desperate for a shred of inner peace.
“Have you secured Collins’s recommendation?” Winthrop’s voice reduced to a hushed whisper.
The question was not what he expected and annoyance replaced anxiety. “In a manner of speaking, although the documents will need to be rewritten. There was an accident with my inkwell . . .” His voice trailed off, the last words forced through clenched teeth as an image of Pandora scampered through his mind.
“That’s unfortunate.” Winthrop’s crestfallen expression did little to assuage his unease.
“God’s teeth, what is it?” Heads swiveled in their direction at his sudden outburst, but he could no longer stand idle, the curiosity to understand the news Winthrop intended to impart pulsing in his veins with more aggression than the throbbing ache in his leg. Failure to secure the nomination and win the election was not an option. He gave a quick, fierce swallow. “Out with it, so I may get on with the business at hand.”
The once-eager expression dropped from Winthrop’s face and he leaned a bit closer, dismay causing his brows to furrow his forehead in a deep vee. “That’s just it, my friend. There may not be any business for you to get to.”
When Winthrop again hesitated, Matthew struck him in the leg with his cane, anger superseding good sense were anyone viewing their interaction. He needed every vote to gain election. Several popular gentlemen vied for the same position.
“Collins has eloped. Run off to Gretna Green with Lord Humber’s niece. I heard she was in the family way and Humber planned to send her to Scotland for a convenient stay with the grandparents, but it all proved for naught. As soon as Collins heard of the situation he took prompt advantage.” Winthrop paused, his voice taking on a sympathetic note. “Although Humber’s good fortune equals your despair.”
Matthew swayed, dropped his cane, and leaned against a nearby wall. Gone were his plans of a fulfilling future, his dreams of holding the exalted position of chief officer, his hope of measuring out a portion of happiness. Damn happiness, and damn his pride, as wounded as his damaged leg. It was all Amelia’s fault. But his despair was short-lived.
With a mutter of farewell, he ventured into the rain again and returned home, his leg a persistent reminder of unsettled emotion and fickle expectation. This time it was he who barged in unannounced, though when he viewed Amelia standing near her bedchamber window with tear tracks on her cheeks, his anger mollified a degree.
He owed her an apology and explanation. How had things become so complicated?
“I want to speak to you. Are you all right?” He moved closer, await of her reception before he began what he needed to say.
* * *
Amelia turned from the window and wiped away her tears. It wasn’t like Matthew to storm into a room, but regardless, she wouldn’t have him see her upset. So much remained unsaid. If they could manage a civil conversation, free of conflict and struggle for control, she might be able to convince him of her heart. She needed him to know how deeply she loved Lunden.
“I need to speak to you as well.” She motioned toward the large upholstered bench at the foot of her bed and waited while he came to sit beside her. “It seems somehow we’ve both lost our way.”
“It didn’t begin that way, I assure you.” Matthew’s expression seemed more relaxed than she’d noticed in weeks. “You should speak first.”
“Thank you.” She hooked a few stray hairs behind her ear and folded her hands atop her skirts. “All I’ve ever wanted from marriage is a chance at happiness, a sense of security, and contented future. Mother and Father’s love match and the genuine affection they share instilled a desire for the same rare union and I vowed to have no less. Excepting the circumstances of Charlotte’s marriage, I believed the natural course of life would lead my heart to love. I had Seasons, attended parties, and accepted the attention of gentlemen callers, but no one convinced me our futures were fated. As time passed, Father grew anxious and assigned you the impossible task.” She paused and brought her eyes to his with a slight smile.
“Indeed.” He returned her grin.
“A series of unwelcomed emotions preyed on my confidence. Father’s illness complicated matters and fear I would fail to find a suitable husband, a man I could love and respect, transformed every well-intended situation into a battle for control.” She paused and hoped her brother would understand the depth of her words.
“Your explanation mirrors my own. I possess the same reluctance.” Matthew shifted on the bench and extended his leg. He briefly kneaded the muscles of his thigh. “Time has revealed my disability is not singular.” He scoffed a wry sound. “While my leg pains me at times and prevents assorted activities, I’ve allowed my brain to harbor enough self-doubt to cripple me twofold.”
“Matthew.” She reached for his hand knowing how difficult his confession.
“No, let me finish.” He gently placed her hand within his. “I’m not foolish enough to attend ballrooms, left to admire the waltz and quadrille from the periphery. Nor will I pretend to ignore the pity-filled glances or benevolent conversation cast in my direction while I mentally list my physical limitations. As substitution, I’ve chosen a path of academic pursuit with a specific goal in mind. Yet blinded by purpose and an intense desire to prove a modicum of self-worth, I’ve wronged you. I’ve treated you unkindly in the process. I’m sorry, Amelia.” He cleared his throat and exhaled a long breath.
“I am, too.” She squeezed his hand with sincerity. “You’re too hard on yourself. I know the ideal woman exists for you and not only in your imagination.” She couldn’t help but add a tease. “A patient and unique woman, no doubt.”
“The same way you believe in your ideal man.” Matthew smiled and released her hand.
“Oh, I’ve discovered him already. He lives in every beat of my heart.”
They fell into companionable silence after that. They’d bared their souls and found forgiveness in the process and truly, there was nothing left to say.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Life no longer made sense. Not so long ago quiet was solace and solitude, a close companion, but now the world turned inside out. Days lingered longer than twenty-four hours, minutes crawled by, marked so slowly, he’d ordered every clock removed from the premises. Beckford Hall, once his salvation, now served as a prison. A stark reminder of his poor judgment much more than the secret he protected from crawling out of the grave. But there was nothing for it. He’d once again made the wrong choice, this time an exile within his heart.
Long, reckless rides on Hades, the usual height of release, were now constant remembrances of Amelia atop her mare, a vivacious bundle of green-eyed temptation. She’d changed him. Lost in the deadly undertow of the past, the vixen had awakened whatever scrap of survival was left in his disquieted soul. She was adventure and rebellion, reckless exploration and contagious excitement, everything his empty existence sacrificed years ago, given back to him in the form of a beautiful woman. And he’d failed her. Turned his back and walked away.
Lunden set down the brass letter opener and moved to the windows, his attention drawn by a passing shadow in the front drive. A carriage approached. Devil deuce it, did it bear the Whittingham crest? Could it be? Would she? After two months
’ time? What could he possibly say after leaving her without the barest explanation? A familiar ache intensified in his chest and he averted his gaze from the scene unfolding outside, unwilling to invite disappointment.
Yet a breath later his eyes slid back, craving the sight of Amelia. One fleeting glance. The pugnacious tilt of her chin. The liquid silk of her ebony curls.
His heart beat a heavy thud. Matthew exited the coach and bid the driver continue to the stables. He stood alone.
Exhaling his frustration, Lunden clenched his eyes against the sharp pang of regret permanently lodged in his chest and returned to his desk in wait of his visitor. Congenial greetings could be heard from the front hall, followed by the uneven tread of the man he once considered a dear friend.
“Ah, so you’ve resumed your brooding right where you left off. You do it quite well.”
Matthew moved forward, his voice louder than his presence, although Lunden merely narrowed his eyes at the jibe. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. Not yet.
“I’m here on a mission. To invite you to a wedding.” Matthew raised his palm as if anticipating an immediate refusal. “Before you argue, you should know Amelia is happy with this decision. Overjoyed, actually. She has an appointment at the modiste on Regent Street this afternoon for her final fitting. Her gown and accompanying fripperies are costing me a small fortune, but it will be worth every penny if I never see Pandora again.”
Jealousy, searing hot, blinded Lunden as Matthew’s words hit home, but he fisted his hands and offered only a long, considering stare, allowing the moment to pass before he dared answer. “While your motive may be abstruse, I appreciate your journey here to deliver this news in person. Please extend my best wishes to Amelia.” He hadn’t said her name aloud since he’d left her. He swallowed hard with the effort.
“Nonsense. You must attend. I’ve found the perfect man for her and as you know, that posed no simple task. Of course, I benefited from her input. It took her a bit of doing, but I realized Amelia knew her own mind and heart from the very beginning. Any matter, Father is much improved by the prospect of a new addition to the family. I’m sure you’ll approve. He meets every criterion on my mother’s ridiculous list.”
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