by Rose Pearson
The sound of a quiet conversation caught his ears, and before he could stand up, two figures appeared out of the growing darkness, coming towards him. One, he recognized, was Lady Amelia, who was walking with her arm in Lady Smithton’s, who was supporting her. They were talking quietly together, with Lady Smithton saying something that was making Lady Amelia nod fervently.
“Ladies,” he began, getting to his feet and smiling at them both, inclining his head and hoping they were not startled by his presence. “You have done the same as I, it seems, and have come to the gardens for a little air.”
Lady Smithton smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “As you see,” she agreed, spreading out her hand. “But we are returned now, given the air is growing a little chilled.”
“Then might I escort you back inside?” he asked, coming a little closer and offering his arm to them both, although he presumed Lady Smithton would refuse him, given the way she was currently regarding him. “I should not like anyone to stumble, given I have been the cause of your previous one, Lady Amelia.”
Lady Amelia looked a little surprised at his remark before giving him a small smile, darting a glance towards Lady Smithton as she did so.
At that moment, Oliver understood precisely what had occurred. Lady Smithton, in being Lady Amelia’s particular friend, had taken great pains to explain to her precisely the sort of gentleman Oliver was. Therefore, Lady Amelia had decided she would not react warmly to his company nor his conversation, which was, he had to admit, very wise indeed—although it certainly made his task a good deal more complicated.
“Lady Amelia, why do you not take Lord Montague’s arm?” Lady Smithton suggested, albeit with a good deal of reluctance. “It is not far, and I shall walk alongside you, of course.”
Lady Amelia hesitated for a moment before lifting her hand from Lady Smithton’s arm and then moving forward to place it in his. He smiled down at her, her features lit by the light from the doorway and felt his heart quicken as she gave him a brief smile in response.
“Shall we?” he asked, walking forward and gesturing for Lady Smithton to lead the way. They said nothing as they walked, and with only a short distance between the open door and the drawing-room, Oliver found it difficult to come up with something to say that Lady Amelia might respond to.
His mind struggled to remove itself from the quagmire that seemed to hold it in place. His thoughts were slow and sluggish, giving him none of the answers he desired and certainly becoming more of a struggle the longer he contemplated things. This was not at all what he had expected, for he had always found it very easy indeed to talk to young ladies without any difficulty whatsoever.
“Do you still wish me to play this evening, Lord Montague?”
Thankfully, Lady Amelia spoke before he had even thought of a single question to ask her. Relieved, he looked down at her and saw her expression a little uncertain, although he did not know whether it was from walking with him or from anxiety over playing the pianoforte in front of his guests.
“I would very much like you to play, yes,” he told her, choosing his words with great care. “But that does not mean you must accept, Lady Amelia. I would not force you to do so, only to state that I would be honored if you would bless my house with your wonderful talent. Your playing and singing have such beauty that they quite take my breath away.”
Lady Amelia blushed furiously and dropped her head, making Oliver smile. He doubted she had been given many compliments before and it was quite clear she was unused to reacting to them. Most other young ladies would cling onto a compliment, fawn over it and bat their eyes at him in response, whereas Lady Amelia said nothing and continued to look away. Oliver found himself liking her all the more for it, for she was clearly humble and very gracious indeed, although he did want her to be fully aware of just how well he thought of her playing. “I will not press you, of course. I just wish others might share in the enjoyment I know will come from your performance.”
“Then I feel as though I cannot refuse,” she answered, glancing up at him a little doubtfully as if she did not quite trust his words. “I will play two songs if that will suffice?”
His heart leaped in his chest just as a broad smile spread across his face, both astonishing him with their swiftness. “That would be wonderful indeed,” he answered, blinking in surprise at his joyous reaction. “Thank you, Lady Amelia.”
She smiled at him then and, for the first time that evening, Oliver felt as though she were smiling at him without restraint nor hindrance. There appeared to be no sense of holding back from him, for her smile reached her eyes and made her entire face light up.
He held onto that smile for a moment, feeling his heart lift and a sense of satisfaction wash over him. They had managed to make a connection at least, however small, and for that, he was grateful. What he was meant to do thereafter, in attempting to bring her closer to him when it was clear Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton would be doing all they could to prevent him from doing so, he was not certain.
However, for the moment, Oliver decided he would be glad for her company and her willingness to sing and play for his guests. The rest of his questions and concerns could be considered later.
Chapter Eight
“I would like to call upon you if I may.”
Those words rang around Amelia’s head as she sat in the window seat of her uncle’s library, looking out at nothing in particular and letting her mind fill with thoughts of Lord Montague. Last evening had gone well, despite her determination to stay far away from Lord Montague. Somehow, he had managed to seek her out as she had taken a short walk with Lady Smithton and thereafter had offered to escort them both back to the drawing-room. Lady Smithton had not accepted, of course, for she would not want any rumors to come from the sight of her walking, arm in arm, with Lord Montague, but for Amelia, there had been no such concerns given Lady Smithton was chaperoning her. She had taken his arm hesitantly, feeling all manner of emotions and wishing she felt nothing of the sort, for he brought about such confusing feelings within her that Amelia did not quite know what to do. She had not mentioned a single word of her feelings to either Lady Smithton or Mrs. Peters, who had become very close friends in a short space of time and who would, of course, share any such insights with each other should Amelia reveal them.
Last evening, she had also had the opportunity to speak to two other gentlemen Lady Smithton had introduced her to on a previous occasion. One was Lord Robertson, who hailed from Scotland but had come to London to seek a bride, whilst the other was a quieter, yet handsome gentleman, Lord Villeroy. He was clearly a well-educated gentleman, and she had been given the opportunity to converse with him in French, which had seemed to both delight and impress him. Lady Smithton had encouraged the connection, which Amelia had been glad for, but had to admit there was no sense of connection with Lord Villeroy. He was handsome, yes, and clearly intelligent, but he very rarely asked her any questions, preferring instead to talk about his interests. Nor had he asked her to dance, asked to call on her, or even stated he hoped they might meet again very soon. Perhaps he was simply another charming gentleman who did not want to have a wife with so obvious a flaw.
“Amelia?”
She jerked in surprise, her leg twinging with pain as she swung her legs around from the window seat, so they dangled over the edge, only a few inches from the floor. “Yes?” she called, not quite certain who was seeking her but knowing the library door was open. “Uncle?”
It was indeed her uncle who came to the door, only for another gentleman to step through after him. Amelia’s cheeks flared at once as she pushed herself forward, her feet firmly on the floor as she ignored the spiraling pain that shot up her leg as she did so.
“Uncle,” she murmured, inclining her head and lowering her gaze, aware of just how quickly her heart was beating and silently wondering where Mrs. Peters was at this moment. “Good afternoon.”
“Here you are, Amelia,” her uncle said, loud enough for the w
ords to bounce around the room. “You have a visitor.”
Amelia swallowed hard and curtsied quickly in the direction of Lord Montague, gritting her teeth against the pain that came from her action. She was well used to it by now, for it hit her every time she curtsied, but from the sharp look in Lord Montague’s eye, she wondered if he was aware of her struggle.
“And he has asked my permission to court you,” her uncle continued, making Amelia’s eyes flare with surprise, only for her to duck her head in embarrassment at his lack of propriety. Now was not the moment to speak of such things, not when Lord Montague was present, but it seemed the Earl cared very little for when and where certain remarks should be made, given he continued regardless.
“I have, of course, agreed,” he continued, waving a hand. “I was quite certain you would not have any objections, Amelia, given you have had no other callers either this Season or last!” He chuckled and looked towards Lord Montague as though this was a very humorous remark, although Lord Montague did not so much as smile, Amelia saw. Perhaps he was not as cruel as Lady Smithton believed him.
Be careful.
The warning in her head began to ring furiously as Lord Montague bowed again, smiling at her warmly. He was so very handsome and very charming indeed, but she knew all too well of his reputation. Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham would not have collaborated to make up such a story, which meant there could only be truth within it.
“I do hope you do not think badly of me for being so eager in my pursuit,” Lord Montague said as her uncle looked on, approvingly. “Ever since you played the pianoforte at Lord Burton’s townhouse I have been quite unable to remove you from my mind. The only way to resolve the struggle I have at present is to seek to court you so that my fears that another gentleman may do so before me are completely allayed.”
The Earl laughed aloud at this remark, however, making Amelia flush crimson with embarrassment.
“I do not think you need concern yourself in that regard, Lord Montague,” he said as though Amelia herself were not present. “My niece is not being actively pursued by any gentleman. I believe you are the first to take notice of her!”
Amelia closed her eyes and lowered her head, feeling tears sting in the corners of her eyes. Her uncle could be so very callous in what he said, even though she did not believe he intended to be so. He just did not think about the consequences such a manner of speaking could have on Amelia’s spirit.
“Then I will consider myself fortunate indeed,” she heard Lord Montague say, keeping her head low as heat burned in her cheeks. “And I must add that I think the other gentlemen very foolish indeed to ignore such a splendid lady as Lady Amelia. They are the fools, Lord Stockbridge. How glad I am that my own heart has been captured by Lady Amelia!”
She blinked rapidly, forcing her tears away and looking directly at Lord Montague as she lifted her head. His lips were pulled in a thin line, tight with anger, whilst his eyes shone with sympathy and understanding. Her heart began to ache, seeing him in a new light and feeling as though he might, in fact, be able to behave differently towards her as he had done with all the other young ladies of his acquaintance.
“Very good, very good,” Lord Stockbridge muttered, clearly a little thrown by Lord Montague’s swift retort. Looking all about him, he gave Lord Montage a smile. “I have a small matter of business to attend to, I am afraid.”
“But of course,” Lord Montague replied hurriedly. “I would not prevent you from returning to it, Lord Stockbridge, particularly when I did not inform you of my visit in advance.”
Lord Stockbridge smiled, then gestured to Amelia. “Pray, sit with Lady Amelia for a time, if you wish. I shall ensure her companion is brought to her, so you have no need to fear for any impropriety.” He winked broadly at Lord Montague, making Amelia cringe. “She will not force you into anything you do not yet wish to commit to, given she can barely rise from her chair without assistance!” Laughing, he slapped Lord Montague on the shoulder and then hurried from the room, leaving Amelia flushed red with mortification all over again.
“I am sorry, Lady Amelia.”
Being left alone with Lord Montague, having been spoken of in such an embarrassing manner by her uncle, and now hearing Lord Montague apologize as though he had been the cause of her uncle’s behavior left Amelia feeling entirely uncertain. She swayed for a moment, glancing at the chairs to her left and then to the open door on her right, not sure whether she should ask Lord Montague to sit down or if she should insist he retreat to the passageway until Mrs. Peters joined them.
“Might I help you to a chair?”
He had made the decision for her, it seemed, moving forward to offer his arm and smiling at her kindly. Amelia had no choice but to accept, aware of just how heavily she leaned on him as she walked.
“Might I ask what occurred to pain your leg so badly?” he asked as she sat down. “I do not mean to be rude, and if you do not wish to share it with me, then I apologize for asking such an impertinent question.”
Given she was still embarrassed from her uncle’s behavior, Amelia sighed inwardly and decided she may as well speak openly to Lord Montague. “I fell from a tree when I was a child,” she said, not quite able to meet his firm gaze. “It was my own doing, of course.”
“That must have been very painful indeed,” he replied gently, his expression soft as she finally looked into his eyes. “I am sorry. Does it pain you often?”
She nodded, looking at him and feeling a small weight roll from her shoulders. “It does. But I am able to walk and sometimes able to dance. I must rest thereafter, that is all.”
He smiled at her, a slight embarrassment in his gaze. “Perhaps we might dance together one evening,” he suggested, his voice filled with a hopefulness that did not quite reach his eyes. Was it because he expected her to agree to it almost at once, believing she could think of nothing better than to be in his arms?
Amelia frowned, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “I could not say, Lord Montague,” she began, only just then, recalling what her uncle had said regarding Lord Montague’s intentions for her. He had come to court her, her uncle had said, had come to ask his permission which, of course, Lord Stockbridge had granted at once. She blinked rapidly, astonishment filling her all over again as she studied him. What was his intention in doing such a thing? Surely it could not be anything true? Lady Smithton had warned her Lord Montague was not to be trusted. Therefore, she would have to take Lady Smithton at her word.
“You do not care for me, I think, Lady Amelia.”
His honesty surprised her, leaving her struggling to respond honestly.
“I should have spoken to you before I spoke to your uncle, I suppose,” he continued, looking at her with a somewhat apologetic gaze. “But I feared you would refuse me. I can tell Lady Smithton does not wish for you to engage with me.”
“Perhaps she is wise enough to know it might be only a fleeting encounter,” Amelia challenged, finally finding enough courage within her to speak as openly and as honestly as he had done. “You cannot imagine I am unaware of your reputation, Lord Montague.” She swallowed quickly, her throat a little dry as she forced herself to speak without hesitation, stating things as clearly as she could. “I know very well what it is you incline yourself towards, Lord Montague.”
Much to her surprise, he flushed and dropped his gaze. “I could not imagine you did not know of it,” he answered, his voice low. “And I can well understand Lady Smithton would urge you to stay far from me, Lady Amelia. And yet, I must hope within that, there is a slight hesitation in your mind over me.”
A little flushed herself, given her honesty in her speech, Amelia paused before she answered, knowing what Lord Montague was hoping for but finding she was not quite able to give him what he desired. “I trust Lady Smithton’s judgment,” she answered slowly. “And I do intend to follow it.”
“So you will not accept my courtship,” he stated, sounding more than a little disappointed. “Y
ou will not even give me the opportunity to prove myself?”
Amelia was about to open her mouth and state that no, she could not give him the chance to prove himself, only to find there was something sticking in her throat, something preventing her from doing just what she intended. She knew she ought to insist there could be no courtship, no furthering of their acquaintance, but the look in his eyes and the expectant hope in his expression prevented her from doing so.
“I would have preferred you had asked me at the first, Lord Montague,” she said, thinking about what she had to do. “In speaking to my uncle, I will now find it very difficult indeed to refuse you.”
