by Rose Pearson
“Here we are, then.” Mrs. Peters sounded slightly strained, but Amelia did not allow herself to feel any regret for how sharply she had spoken. To her own mind, she was justified entirely in speaking as she had done, and it was with relief that she stepped out of the carriage and made her way slowly into Lord Harrington’s townhouse.
***
“You waltz very well, indeed, Lady Amelia.”
Amelia knew she was blushing, but she did not drop her gaze nor look away from Lord Montague, feeling very aware of the scrutiny that came from the others watching her. She had not danced at all as yet, which made this her very first foray onto the floor.
“I think you are doing well to support me,” she answered honestly. “I know I must be a little less nimble than some of your other partners, Lord Montague.”
He smiled, his eyes twinkling down at her. “That is where you are quite mistaken, Lady Amelia,” he answered, making sure to keep the middle of the dance floor where they might move about more carefully and were less inclined to be knocked into by another couple. “You think much too little of yourself.”
Feeling her cheeks heat a little more at his compliment, Amelia looked away, unable to keep his gaze and finding the emotions flickering in his eyes to be a bit too intense for her heart. She was no longer afraid of what the ton thought of her, not when Lord Montague had her in his arms. She was safe here, protected. No one would dare say anything to her when he was with her. News of how he had spoken to Lord Chadderfield had, of course, been threaded through all of society and now no one dared draw near her and speak in a similarly mocking or condescending manner—and for that, she was truly grateful.
As it has been with Lady Smithton, said a small voice in her head, reminding her Lady Smithton had been the first to come to her aid, had been the very first to step out with her into society, shielding her from the very worst of the ton. Amelia felt a twinge of shame, knowing she was being a trifle ungrateful and inconsiderate herself when it came to considering Lord Montague and not holding Lady Smithton in the same light.
“You look troubled,” Lord Montague commented, appearing a little concerned as the dance came to an end. He bowed, still holding onto her hand, whilst she curtsied—and immediately felt a twinge of pain in her leg. “Does your leg pain you?”
“A little,” Amelia replied honestly, having no inclination to hide such a thing from him. “But it is nothing.”
“Here,” he said, stepping forward and offering her his arm. “Allow me to return you to Mrs. Peters.”
Amelia nodded, accepting his arm gratefully, leaning on him a little more as her leg grew weary. She needed to sit down and rest, and somehow, Lord Montague seemed to be aware of that without her informing him of such a thing, for he took her directly to a chair and helped her to sit down carefully.
“I cannot see Mrs. Peters nor Lady Smithton,” he murmured, looking a trifle concerned. “Mrs. Peters was here but a few minutes ago, was she not?”
Amelia nodded, having to admit she was a little surprised to see Mrs. Peters was not exactly where Amelia had left her. Mrs. Peters never strayed from Amelia’s side, which meant it was very odd indeed to see no sight of her now.
“I—I would go in search of her,” Lord Montague said, looking a little awkward, “but I do not want to leave you here alone, Lady Amelia.”
Amelia smiled up at him, grateful for his concern. “I shall be quite all right,” she said, knowing she needed to rest for a few minutes longer. “I know everyone will be looking at me and discussing my dancing, but I shall simply sit here quietly.”
He shook his head, his eyes flickering. “You do not need to even consider what any other gentleman or lady here thinks of you, my dear Lady Amelia,” he said firmly, bringing a warmth to her heart with his sweetness. “You were quite delightful, and I feel greatly honored in taking you to the dance floor.”
She smiled, her heart aching with a furious affection that seemed to course all through her. “You are very kind, Lord Montague,” she murmured, wondering just how she was ever to express to Lady Smithton or to Mrs. Peters the truth of what she now felt for Lord Montague. “But I fear I cannot help you when it comes to seeking out Mrs. Peters, for I have very little idea as to where she might have gone.”
“It is most unusual,” Lord Montague agreed, his brows lowering and a slight irritation playing about his mouth. “Perhaps she has just gone in search of some refreshments.” Seeming to make up his mind, he nodded and set his shoulders. “I will wait with you for a few minutes, in the hope that she will return with all swiftness.”
However, the few minutes they waited did not produce the results Amelia had expected. Mrs. Peters did not appear, and as hard as both she and Lord Montague looked about the room, neither of them could see either Mrs. Peters or Lady Smithton. It was most unusual, and Amelia began to feel a trifle anxious. Surely Mrs. Peters would not have left the ballroom, upset by what Amelia had said to her on the way to the ball? Yes, she had spoken honestly and with a good deal more harshness than she had intended, but there had been nothing within her speech that could have injured Mrs. Peters in a dreadful fashion. So where, then, had she gone?
“Good evening, Lord Montague.”
Amelia frowned as she saw Lord Montague’s expression darken at once, his entire frame seeming to tense, for his shoulders lifted and his jaw tightened, with his eyes narrowing as the gentleman who had greeted him drew closer.
“Lord Davidson,” she heard him say, turning her head away so that she would not appear to be listening to their conversation. “Good evening.”
“You were dancing with Lady Amelia it seems,” Lord Davidson said in a cheerful tone. “It is the talk of society, of course.”
Amelia closed her eyes, feeling a needling of embarrassment and have to force it away from her. She knew dancing with Lord Montague would send tongues wagging but, as Lord Montague had reminded her only a few minutes previously, she did not need to concern herself with what others thought of her.
“I was, and I hope to do so again,” Lord Montague replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go in search of Mrs. Peters or Lady Smithton.” He turned away, meaning to go back towards Amelia, who had risen out of her chair, only for Lord Davidson to put out one hand to stop him.
“Lady Smithton, you say?” he asked nonchalantly, giving Amelia a quick smile. “I saw her walking with another lady—fair-haired and slight—out in the gardens. Lord Harrington has an excellent display out there this evening. Lanterns of all kinds and some beautiful arrangements of flowers and the like, lit up by the lanterns glow. It is quite lovely, of course.”
Amelia frowned, finding it very unusual indeed that Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton would have left her sitting here alone with Lord Montague when they knew she was only dancing the one dance with him. “And you are quite certain you saw Lady Smithton there?” she asked as Lord Montague shook his head sharply. “You could not be mistaken?”
Lord Davidson laughed a little unpleasantly, and Amelia felt a slight shudder run through her as though instinctively, she knew this fellow was not a kind man.
“Everyone is well aware of who Lady Smithton is, so there could be no mistaking it,” he answered, looking at her as though she were being idiotic. “Yes, I saw her there only a few minutes ago. I am certain she will return to you soon.”
Amelia managed a tight smile and took Lord Montague’s arm, thanking Lord Davidson but feeling the urge to escape from his presence just as soon as she could. “We should go to the gardens to find them,” she murmured as Lord Montague began to walk slowly through the crowd of guests. “I do not understand why they have gone from the ballroom, but I fear it may be because of something I said to Mrs. Peters earlier today.”
Lord Montague stiffened, turning to her and letting go of her hand. “No, Lady Amelia,” he said firmly, his expression stern. “I will not lead you out of doors into the gardens. That is not what my intention is.”
She blinked at him in s
urprise, opening her mouth to speak to him, only for him to catch her hand and place it on his arm, walking towards the open French doors leading to the gardens, going directly in contradiction to what he had said.
“We will linger near the door, but I will not step outside with you,” he stated, moving towards the wall of the ballroom, where the shadows were thick and heavy. “But you must understand, Lady Amelia, I will not even consider risking your reputation by stepping out of doors with you. That is entirely improper and I—”
“Lord Montague, please!” Amelia clutched at his arm with both hands as they stopped together, looking up earnestly into his face and wanting desperately to impress upon him the truth that she did not think he would ever do so. “It would not be improper by any means! There are many guests going in and out of those doors, and the gardens are clearly so well-lit, there is no opportunity for impropriety. Look!” Catching sight of Lady Alexandra walking alongside another gentleman out into the gardens, she gestured to them pointedly. “You have too much concern for my safety, Lord Montague,” she finished, looking up into his face as he turned back to her. “Can you not see I trust you?”
These words seemed to bring him more pain than relief. He lowered his head, rubbing one hand over his forehead, murmuring something she could not quite make out. Alarmed by his apparent upset, Amelia pressed one hand gently to his arm, feeling as though she ought to be giving him some comfort, even though she did not know why he appeared so ill at ease.
“You should not trust me, Lady Amelia.”
Lord Montague’s voice was harsh and rasping, his features contorted as he looked up at her, shaking his head as he did so. “You should not give me even a modicum of your trust.”
“But why should I not?” Amelia asked, a little breathlessly. “I know of your reputation, Lord Montague, and you know very well that, from the beginning, I have not been certain of this courtship. But now that I have spent more time with you, now that I have seen how you defend me to your peers, how can I not begin to trust you have changed? That you may, in fact, be the gentleman no one ever believed you would become?” Taking a small step closer to him, she looked up into his eyes, her heart hurting for him as she saw the confusion in his eyes. “You fear yourself, Lord Montague. You fear you may yet be dishonorable. Mayhap you are afraid of what you have begun to feel.” Ignoring the jolt of anxiety that crashed through her as she spoke, Amelia swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. “Surely you cannot be unaware of how my feelings have changed towards you these last two weeks, Lord Montague,” she whispered, unable to hold his gaze any longer as she told him more than she had ever intended. “You have defended me, have encouraged me, and have made me feel more than I ever imagined I could feel.” Her voice grew quieter still, her heart beginning to race as he touched her hand with his, making her look up at him once more. “I confess I have been confused with what I feel for you, Lord Montague. I have tried to battle it, particularly when Lady Smithton and Mrs. Peters have told me to ensure you are not to be trusted. I have wanted to stay away from you so that my regard for you will not grow any further, but neither of my desires have been achieved. And now,” she finished, seeing how Lord Montague’s eyes darkened with emotion, “I find I do not want my heart to give up what it now holds for you.”
“Stop, Lady Amelia, please.”
Her heart swirled in her chest. She had been about to state she cared for him deeply, about to confess that she loved him, but he had prevented her from doing so by a mere word. Lord Montague said nothing for some moments, leaving Amelia standing on the edge of a precipice. Either he would tell her he had no feelings at all and did not understand what she spoke of, or he would admit to her that she spoke the truth. Blood roared in her ears as Lord Montague sighed heavily, closing his eyes and shaking his head as though he was struggling with what he was to say to her in response.
“Lady Amelia, you must not say anything more.”
Lord Montague opened his eyes, moving just a fraction closer to her. The sound of the guests near to them began to fade away, the music from the orchestra becoming nothing but silence. All Amelia could hear was her breath, waiting desperately for Lord Montague to say something further.
“You are much too good for someone such as me.”
His voice was filled with tenderness, his hand reaching out and brushing her cheek with such a gentleness that Amelia wanted to lean into him, her eyes filling with tears of happiness.
“You speak of things with such honesty that I find myself wanting to do the very same,” he continued, his hand running from her cheek to her shoulder and down her arm until his fingers twined with hers, making her heart cry with joy. “I will not hide the truth from you, Lady Amelia.” Again, he sighed, closing his eyes tightly and wincing as he did so. “I am the very cad you think me.”
Her happiness evaporated in a moment. She froze, her body weighted as she stared up at him, not understanding what he meant. Had she been entirely wrong? Had he been pretending to feel something for her? Had he felt nothing at all and had only come to her defense so as to make her enamored towards him?
“I never intended to have such an affection for you, Amelia,” he whispered, opening his eyes and gazing down into her face. “I did not think I would be so affected, but I know now I cannot leave your side. My waking hours are spent wishing to be near you. My heart longs to hear your voice, to know what you have to say, to do my utmost to make you smile. And yet, I have hidden that from my very self, trying to convince myself that what I felt meant nothing. But,” he continued, swallowing hard and taking in a long breath. “But I have found myself just as you describe—with a deep regard for you that will not leave me but instead continues to grow, filling me until I cannot deny its presence.”
Amelia did not mean to cry, but a single tear streaked down her cheek as she tried to take in what Lord Montague had said. He had called himself a cad because he had been hiding his feelings from her and had not spoken to her of what was in his heart. That, as far as she thought, did not make him so, but apparently, to his mind, that was precisely what he was.
“Pray, do not cry,” he whispered, looking utterly wretched. “Oh, Lady Amelia, what is it I have done?”
She swallowed her tears and wiped the one from her cheek, feeling her lips curving up into a smile as she realized the truth. Lord Montague cared for her, just as she cared for him. Her fears and her doubts, and the fears and doubts of Lady Smithton and Mrs. Peters were to come to naught. Lord Montague’s reputation would not be carried into her future. Things were about to change.
“I think I have fallen in love with you, Lady Amelia,” she heard him whisper, staring up at him in disbelief as those words fell from his lips. “I cannot explain it, cannot understand it, but I fear I have reached a place from which I shall never be able to return.”
Amelia closed her eyes so that her tears would not fall from her lashes, feeling herself practically burst with joy. Her heart echoed his, but she could not find the words to express it, such was her happiness. If she spoke, then she feared she might break down completely, losing her composure entirely and catching the attention of the guests nearby who, thus far, had not even cast a single glance in their direction.
“I—I cannot do this any longer.”
Opening her eyes, Amelia was astonished to see Lord Montague now looked entirely ill at ease. Instead of the same joy she felt being expressed in his eyes, he appeared to be becoming more and more distraught. His eyes were wild, darting from place to place, and he began to shift from foot to foot. Pressing her hand for another moment, he let it go and took a step back as though to leave her entirely.
“I must go,” he said hurriedly, turning away from her only to come back to her side and take her hand again. “Oh, Amelia, I will confess to you now that all that is said of me is entirely true. I am everything you think me to be. Everything Lady Smithton said about my character is beyond doubt. They were right to warn you from me. I am the worst sort of
gentleman, and yet I am a gentleman who has come to love you with all that I am. My arrogance and selfishness have been revealed to me, tearing aside my flesh and revealing the darkness that lingers in my heart. And that is all because of you, Amelia. It is all because of you.” Shaking his head, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to it for a long moment, sending a shiver up her arm. She did not know what he meant by what he was saying, feeling almost numb with confusion. “I speak the truth when I tell you I love you, Amelia. I love you desperately, and if I were sure you would agree, I would ask you to become my wife.” Her heart leaped in her chest, only for her to realize Lord Montague was not, in fact, about to ask her that wonderful question.
“Why would I refuse you?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I do not understand.”
“I know,” he answered, looking more pained than she had ever seen him. “I know you do not understand, but in the days to come, I am sure you will.” Letting go of her hand, he took a step back, a finality in his expression that frightened her. “Know, Lady Amelia, I am deeply, deeply sorry for all that will come. I was only thinking of myself and the consequences that might follow. I did not truly consider you until I realized you were more wonderful, more beautiful, and more inspiring than any other lady of my acquaintance. And now, it is too late.” He spread his hands, his voice filled with hopelessness. “I have lost everything. I am so very sorry, Amelia. Despite it all, know I have come to feel for you a love that will endure for the rest of my days.” Turning away from her, he pressed one hand to his heart as though he were trying to prevent it from breaking. “Goodbye, Lady Amelia.”
