But Amelia wasn’t going to get off that easily, Quentin was amused to note. Mrs. Smithson shook her head decisively. “Don’t be foolish, my dear Miss Snowe. Of course you shan’t play for us. I’ve recruited the governess, Miss Inglewood, from the nursery to play for us.”
A mousy-looking woman in a dull gray gown stepped forward and took the seat at the piano. “Indeed, Miss Snowe, I am quite happy to play so that you may join in the dancing. I suppose you must miss this sort of thing since you came to live with us in the country.”
Quentin lifted a hand up to hide his amusement as he watched Amelia desperately trying to school her features. “Yes, of course,” she said to the other woman, though it was clear to anyone who really knew Amelia that she was quite annoyed by the present turn of events. Then, as if she were calling forth some inner reserve of fortitude, she squared her shoulders and turned to Harriet. “What fun this will be, won’t it, Harriet?” she asked her charge as Mr. Carstairs approached them.
“I believe the first set is forming, Miss Smithson,” the elegant young man said, bowing slightly before them. “Would you do me the honor of letting me lead you out?”
At Harriet’s questioning glance, Amelia nodded firmly. “What pretty manners you have, Mr. Carstairs,” she said with a smile. “Do go, Harriet, or I shall be tempted to steal him away from you.”
Though it was quite within the realm of possibility that Amelia could steal away her charge’s suitor, Harriet and Carstairs seemed to know she was teasing. With a slight shrug, Harriet extended her hand to Carstairs and allowed him to lead her away.
Seizing his chance, Quentin stepped into the spot vacated by the girl and said, “Are you not afraid sometimes that one day one of these young men will take you seriously?”
“Hardly,” Amelia said, not letting her eyes drift away from the other side of the room where the younger couple had linked hands in preparation for the dance. “Harriet knows she is safe from me. And goodness knows I’ve depressed all advances from the men who were invited to this house party. Or, almost all,” she amended, darting her eyes to look at him without turning her head. “But they will learn soon enough. They were invited here for Harriet’s sake, not mine.”
He knew that last was meant to dissuade him, but Quentin had always been up for a challenge. Especially one from a pretty girl.
“I was hoping that you’d dance this first set with me,” he said. “Though it would appear that we’ve missed our chance.” And indeed, the four couples gathered in the center of the room had begun to perform the steps of a country dance while the governess at the piano banged out a merry tune.
“You have no business dancing with me, my lord,” she said quietly. “I am merely Harriet’s companion.”
“That’s not what you said earlier in the greenhouse,” he said softly. To his pleasure, she gave what he suspected was an involuntary shiver and a hectic blush rose in her cheeks.
“A gentleman would not remind me of such an occurrence,” she said in an undertone.
“This gentleman would,” he returned. “Especially if this lady continues to pretend like nothing lies between us.”
“Whether something lies between us or not is beside the point,” Amelia hissed. “It was wrong of me to indulge you in such a manner and from now on I intend to walk the straight and narrow.”
“Do you indeed?” he wondered aloud. “I somehow find that difficult to believe given just how … heated … your response was to me earlier.”
“Will you…” she said in a harassed voice, before realizing that they might be overheard. Lowering her voice, she continued. “Stop saying things to be provoking. I told you it was a mistake and you should accept my pronouncement.”
“Should I?” he asked idly, never turning to look at her during the exchange. “Perhaps you have forgotten how things work in the upper echelons of society, Miss Snowe,” he said companionably. “The middle classes, like the Smithsons, are quite rigid, I think, when it comes to their behavior. A girl like Harriet could not get away with nearly the amount of mischief that a young lady of title might.”
“I believe that is the case, yes,” Amelia agreed. “And since I am not a young lady of title, I believe that pertains to me as well.”
“Perhaps,” Quentin said. “But then again, since you have spent the past several years mixing with the beau monde, I think that you can get away with a bit of mischief.”
“Is there a point to all of this?” Amelia wondered aloud. “For I must admit that I begin to bore of the subject.”
“Of course, my dear Miss Snowe,” he said quickly. “I had forgotten just how impatient you can be.”
At the growl of frustration she gave, he smothered a laugh with a quick cough. “I only meant to say that I think you are due a bit of scandal. On your own behalf, that is. Not the sort where you do something cruel and are held in contempt for it.”
She must have been surprised for she turned to him and said, “I have created enough of that sort of scandal to last a lifetime, thank you. I do not need any more.”
He caught a flash of misery in her eyes before she shuttered the expression and turned her gaze once more to the dance floor.
“You have paid the price for your past behavior, Amelia,” he said quietly.
“No, I haven’t,” she said with a brittle laugh. “I have been forgiven by the injured parties, but that doesn’t mean that I have paid with the sort of humiliation I inflicted upon my victims.”
He said nothing, giving her the space she needed to tell the story.
“I was dreadful, Quentin,” she said, and he could not help a jolt of pleasure at hearing his name on her lips, no matter what subject she was speaking of. “I openly mocked a young lady because of an infirmity she could no more control than I could control who my parents were. I made all three of the Featherstone cousins’ lives difficult for as long as I possibly could.”
“But you did apologize for it, did you not?” he asked, feeling the need to point out her change of heart, even if she didn’t acknowledge it to be as significant as her sins. “That must count for something.”
She shook her head, her expression bleak in juxtaposition to the merry tune and laughing dancers flying past them. “I finally came to my senses, if that’s what you mean. I know now that I was so cruel because I was in pain myself, but that doesn’t take away the fact that I did it. And I can never forget it.”
She turned and looked him fully in the face. “I have not been a very nice person, Quentin. And if you have any sense at all, you will take this chance to wash your hands of me now while you still have a chance.”
“But what if I admire the fact that you’ve managed to mend your ways?” he asked seriously. “Because I do. I admire the way you have molded yourself into someone better than you once were. I admire the fact that you had the courage to own your sins to the people you sinned against. And I admire the way you have dedicated yourself to atoning for your sins. Even if I think you do yourself a disservice by prolonging your own punishment.”
For a moment he thought that she would give in to the tears gathering in her eyes. But she drew strength from some inner core and blinked away the moisture. “Your faith in me does not go unappreciated,” she said quietly. “Even if I think you are too quick to forgive me.”
“Why not let me be the judge of my own behavior?” he asked softly. “And why not let me choose whom I wish to call friend.”
“So what you want from me is friendship?” she asked, one brow raised skeptically.
He barked out a laugh. “Hell, no. I want a great deal more than friendship. But for now it’s what I’m willing to settle for.”
“Once upon a time you were my best friend in the world,” she said with a crooked smile. “I would like to have a friend like that again.”
“So would I,” he said, slipping his arm through hers and waiting for the last strains of the dance to fade away before leading her onto the impromptu dance floor.
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p; “Shall we risk it?” he asked, pulling her into his arms in preparation for a waltz.
“Let’s do it,” she said, smiling up at him as the other couples took their places.
By the time the music began, they were both grinning. If anyone noticed, they kept their thoughts to themselves.
* * *
Though she would have been loath to admit as much to the man himself, Amelia could not help but feel an inner glow at being twirled around the Smithson drawing room in Lord Quentin Fortescue’s arms. Some small corner of her heart had never stopped longing for him. And the reality of being with him here, now, and in these circumstances—while she was employed as a companion to a much richer, much sweeter young lady, made it all the more special.
“A penny for them,” he said, smiling down at her as they both kept to the steps of the dance. “If I were to guess, I’d say you’re wondering whether we might find a way to continue our botanical experiments.”
Amelia felt the blush rise from her chest all the way up into her cheeks. “I believe you overestimate my interest in…” she paused, searching for just the right word, “… in horticulture. In fact, I am quite sure that I do not care for it at all.”
“A fib if ever I’ve heard one, Miss Snowe,” he said with a smug laugh. “In fact, I’d wager that you enjoyed your foray into the art of making things grow quite a bit.”
She bit her lip. Making things grow indeed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said pertly.
“Miss Snowe, I had no idea you were interested in gardening,” Miss Smithson said as she twirled past in Mr. Wallace’s arms. “Mama will be so pleased to hear of it. For I must admit I find it to be rather tedious.”
“Do not mistake the matter, Harriet,” Amelia replied with a dampening look for Quentin. “I believe Lord Quentin was mistaking my willingness to garden at all with a real desire to do so. I must confess that I find gardening to be tedious in the extreme.”
“Tsk, tsk, Miss Snowe,” Quentin said. “If I’m any judge of the matter, I’d say that you are merely pretending to find it tedious. There is no shame in admitting you find such things enjoyable. Indeed, I believe more ladies enjoy gardening than are willing to admit.”
“Well, I shall never be one of those ladies, my lord,” Harriet said in all seriousness. “I think it’s quite unnatural. And one gets all sweaty and damp. Not to mention the things it does to one’s hair!”
In spite of herself, Amelia felt a giggle threaten to escape her. Quentin, the devil, seemed to guess it too, for he continued to Harriet, “I do understand, Miss Smithson. Gardening can disorder one’s hair quite a bit. And one’s clothing as well.”
“Yes!” Harriet agreed, smiling with genuine pleasure. “My lord, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate finding someone who understands my reluctance to garden.”
“Well, I might understand, Miss Smithson,” Quentin said with a bland expression, “but I cannot say that I agree. Why I love nothing more than digging beneath the layers to find out just what lies beneath. I know I’ve found some real beauties that way.”
“I had no idea you were so interested in what goes on in the greenhouse, old fellow,” Mr. Wallace said with surprise. “Never thought a duke’s son would dirty his hands like that. I told Wilkes you was a good ’un.”
“A good ’un, indeed,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes. “If only they knew, my lord, just how much you like … er … dirtying your hands.”
“If only,” Quentin said, grinning. “I daresay they’d be surprised to find how much they enjoy doing so themselves with their own … uh … gardening companions, that is.”
“Naturally,” Amelia agreed.
“I cannot imagine why you find the topic of gardening so amusing,” Miss Fotheringham said, from her position in the arms of Mr. Carstairs. “I can imagine nothing as plebian as digging around in soil. It’s so … low.”
Amelia supposed that Miss Fotheringham had missed the part of the conversation where Harriet mentioned that her mother enjoyed gardening. At least, she hoped that was the only reason why the girl would insult her hostess in such a way.
Before Amelia, or even Harriet, could correct the other girl, however, Quentin jumped in. “My father quite agrees with you, Miss Fotheringham,” he said with a chuckle.
The snobbish young lady opened her mouth to praise the duke, but Quentin continued, “In fact, he is constantly trying to convince my mother to leave off her habit of rose gardening. Though I suppose doing what you please is what comes of being the daughter of a duke who then marries a duke.” He laughed and everyone but Miss Fotheringham joined in.
“It’s all very well for a duchess to declare such a pastime to be acceptable, but people in the merchant class cannot afford such luxuries,” she pressed on. “Why, how are they ever to raise themselves if they continue to labor like peasants?”
“Perhaps you should say as much to our hostess,” Amelia suggested sweetly. “For I suspect she would tear down her greenhouse should she realize just how much it endangers her family’s position in society.”
At the mention of Mrs. Smithson’s greenhouse, Miss Fotheringham finally got the point. “Oh,” she said, color rising in her face. “I didn’t know.”
“Which is why you should not make pronouncements about what is and is not acceptable behavior in others,” Amelia said quietly. “I find it best to keep one’s pronouncements to one’s own behavior. It’s much less dangerous.”
Rather than thank her for the bit of advice, Miss Fotheringham’s eyes narrowed as she scowled at Amelia.
“I think you might have made an enemy there,” Quentin said in a low voice only she could hear.
“It matters not,” Amelia said quietly. “I have already decided that she is an enemy I am quite comfortable in making.”
Quickly she told him about the little housemaid, Mary, and Miss Fotheringham’s treatment of her.
Quentin swore under his breath. “I might have guessed she’d be the sort to mistreat the servants. Social climbers are the quickest to pass judgment, and the most likely to prove their superiority through cruelty.”
“I fear you are correct,” Amelia said, watching as the dance ended and Miss Fotheringham pulled away from Mr. Carstairs and rushed from the room.
She feared that Miss Fotheringham would not let Amelia’s public slight pass without retaliation. Fortunately, Amelia was ready.
Chapter Six
The next morning arrived with enough sunshine to offset the rain of the day before. Harriet, determined that her party should be a success, insisted that the guests embark upon a long walk into the nearby village of Little Inchmore. They would partake of tea at the local inn, and later shop a little in the town’s business district, which might afford some of them the opportunity to find the next items in the hunt, everyone having received their clues at ten o’clock sharp.
Amelia, who had received a cold shoulder from every other young lady with the exception of Harriet, tried to keep a smile on her face when Quentin excused himself to speak to Mr. Smithson for a moment after they’d decided to search for their next clue in the village. Clearly Miss Fotheringham had been hard at work ensuring that none of the other young ladies, aside from Harriet, chose to confide in her for any but the most general of reasons.
“I hope we’re to leave soon, Harriet,” she said in bright voice that sounded false even to her own ear. “After being cooped up because of yesterday’s rain, I’d love to get out in the sun.”
“Really, Miss Snowe,” chided Miss Fotheringham, “you forget your place. Surely it is up to Miss Smithson to decide when we are to leave.”
But Harriet would have none of it. Stepping forward and slipping her arm though Amelia’s she said sharply, “But I treasure Miss Snowe’s opinion, I assure you, Miss Fotheringham. Indeed, she is my closest confidante.”
“Really?” the other girl said with exaggerated astonishment. “I cannot imagine trusting a servant like that.”
The word
s hung in the air for a moment, like a declaration of war waiting to be acknowledged.
Finally, Amelia inclined her head. “Touché, Miss Fotheringham. I am a mere servant. And I know of course how little you value them.” She caught the other girl’s eye. “Why only yesterday I saw you proving as much to one of the housemaids…” she began.
Miss Fotheringham, realizing what Amelia meant, stiffened. “Not that it’s any of your business, but the girl was behaving abominably. Miss Smithson, you really must speak to your mother about the quality of the housemaids she employs.”
“Isn’t Mary assigned to your room?” Harriet asked, with a frown. “She’s usually a very biddable and sweet-natured girl.”
“Well, perhaps she wished to show her independent streak before a visitor rather than to the family who employs her,” Miss Fotheringham said coldly. “I find that many servants like to take advantage of guests like that. Also she probably assumed that since I am beautiful I must also be easy to manipulate. Which is far from the case, let me assure you.”
Amelia wasn’t sure whether she was appalled more by the girl’s attitude toward the servants, or her taking it for granted that everyone thought her beautiful. It was really too much.
Before she or Harriet could say anything however, Quentin returned and spoke up. “If I recall correctly you had similar problems when you last stayed at my parents’ estate. It seems strangely coincidental that such trouble would follow wherever you go, Miss Fotheringham. Could it be that the problem is not the servants, but you?”
Since she was hardly going to correct a duke’s son on the matter, Miss Fotheringham simply gnashed her teeth and smiled. “You may be right, my lord,” she said finally. “I shall simply endure until it comes time to leave.”
“Excellent,” Amelia said, giving Quentin a large smile. “I for one am quite ready to embark on our journey to the village. Let us gather up the other gentlemen and see if they are ready to go, shall we?”
The Perks of Being a Beauty Page 6
