by Rose Pearson
Chapter Eleven
Oliver wanted to ride away from London, ensconce himself in his estate and hide away until his heart no longer screamed at him with both guilt and pain. Speaking to Lady Amelia last evening had broken every single part of him. He had known his heart had begun to care deeply for the lady but had never once considered what it would be like to hear her speak of her affection for him. When she had begun, he had felt the first stab of shame lance through his heart, which was followed by another, and then another, until he felt as if he might crumple to the floor in agony.
It was an agony of his own making, of course. An agony he could not blame anyone else for. Lord Davidson had made the bet, yes, but had he not grown too close to Lady Thornhill in the first place, then there would have been nothing Lord Davidson could have used against him. Had he never become this arrogant, selfish, pig-headed rogue, then he might now have found a contented happiness with Lady Amelia, might well have seen the beauty that she was long before now. Perhaps she would never have had to endure the mockery of the ton. Perhaps she would never have needed to struggle in the way she did at present.
The foolishness of his heart and the idiocy of his actions hit him time and time again, making him want to lose himself in the hazy fog of too much brandy, too much liquor. Then, perhaps, he might forget—at least for a time—the foolishness of what he had done.
Lady Amelia would know about his bet soon enough. Lord Davidson coming to speak to him last evening, in Lady Amelia’s presence, had been warning enough. It was a reminder that Lord Davidson was watching him, that he was making certain Oliver was close to fulfilling his bet so that Lord Thornhill would not have to be told of his wife’s indiscretions, and so that Lord Davidson might make enough money to pull him out of his current debts.
And now, the only way to turn his back on it all was to go to Lord Thornhill himself and to state what he had done. Even though it had been during last season, Oliver knew the consequences for him when it came to telling the truth might be severe indeed. Lord Thornhill held a good deal of influence. He could make quite sure Oliver was thrown from society, that he was rejected by almost everyone he knew. There would be no return from that. It could take years before he was welcomed back to London—and he certainly would never enjoy the same privileges as he did at present.
But somehow, when he considered Lady Amelia, he knew such things did not matter. Whether society rejected him or not, all he cared about was Lady Amelia. He ached for her. It was not until last evening, when she had spoken the truths of her heart to him and suggested he too might be struggling with some of his own feelings, that he had come to realize the full extent of his affections. It was love. It could have no other explanation. The desire to be near her almost every hour, every minute. The eagerness with which he counted the seconds until he could be in her company once more. The way his heart lifted when he saw her approaching, his joy in their conversation, and how much he delighted in hearing her laugh. The anger that rose within him when someone spoke to her disparagingly, growing within him the need to protect her. It all amounted to one thing— love. He loved Lady Amelia, and now he was to separate from her for good. There was no hope for him now, not when she discovered the truth. She would be heartbroken over what he had done, realize he had deliberately meant to deceive her, and even though he now found himself in love with her, his assurance of his devotion would not take away the pain of his betrayal. His shame would be his torment.
“Another brandy, my lord?”
He looked up to see a footman handing him another glass, which Oliver accepted with a mutter of thanks.
“And Lord Havisham wishes to join you,” the footman added, just as Oliver saw the tall, broad-shouldered, and rather angry looking Lord Havisham approaching from across the room. Oliver had no time to rise from his chair, no time to escape from the fury that was Lord Havisham and could only scrabble at the arms of his chair with one hand, afraid Lord Havisham was about to plant him a facer.
“Montague.”
Lord Havisham stood directly in front of Oliver’s chair, his eyes narrowed with anger.
“Lord Havisham,” Oliver murmured, his heart pounding furiously, recalling Lord Havisham was very close to Lady Smithton. “Good evening.”
Lord Havisham let out a long breath, his jaw jutting forward. “You have brought much pain to Lady Amelia, Montague. I do not understand why, and neither, I fear, does she.”
Oliver closed his eyes and let out a long breath, a cold hand grasping at his heart. “I—I think she will come to understand it very soon,” he said hoarsely. “All will discover it, Lord Havisham. I have made a dreadful mess of things, and I must set them aright before Lord Davidson wins his wager.” Realizing what he had said, he opened his eyes to see Lord Havisham staring at him, his brows lowering slowly. “I will not pretend,” Oliver continued, lifting his brandy to his mouth and taking a sip in the hope that it would give him a little more courage, “I did not want to take on this wager, Lord Havisham, but I had no other choice. Lord Davidson threatened to reveal something that would ruin me and have me thrown from society, and initially, I considered such a consequence too great for me to endure.” Another sip of brandy sent a flare of warmth through him, chasing away a little of the cold that had seemed to settle in his very bones. “I now know such consequences mean nothing.”
Lord Havisham let out a long breath, his jaw working furiously, only for him to stalk past Oliver and walk directly towards the betting book. Oliver sat dully in his chair, thinking that no matter what Lord Havisham’s reaction was, he deserved everything that would come to him. Finishing his brandy, he set the glass down on a small table to his left and sank back. He shouldn’t drink anymore, he decided. He would not be able to manage the rest of the evening if he had too much liquor running through his veins.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Lord Havisham rounded on him, standing closer than before and his breathing quick and fast.
“What is it you have done, Lord Montague?” he hissed, his eyes narrowing all the more. “Explain yourself.”
Oliver nodded, a sigh leaving his lips. “It is as I have said, Lord Havisham,” he muttered, darkly. “I have been pursuing Lady Amelia in the hope that I might succeed in having her speak to me of her heart. Then Lord Davidson will win the wager and, given a few gentlemen have wagered that I will not be able to do so, he will win a substantial amount of money. It also means Lord Davidson will not reveal to Lord Thornhill that I was much too close to his wife last season.” He heard Lord Havinsham catch his breath, knowing the mention of the Marquess of Thornhill had quite astonished the fellow. Evidently, Lord Havisham was fully aware of the man’s reputation and standing within society.
“You are stating, then, that Lord Davidson blackmailed you,” Lord Havisham murmured, seemingly growing a little less angry and sinking into a chair near to Oliver’s. “That is why you accepted the wager?”
“I felt I did not have a choice,” Oliver answered, honestly. “But I did, Lord Havisham. This is not something I wish to blame others for. I could have refused Lord Davidson entirely; I could have faced the consequences of my prior actions. But I did not.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “But now I intend to do so.”
Lord Havisham blinked, leaning forward in his chair and looking at Oliver with sharp eyes. “You mean to say you are going to speak to Lord Thornhill?”
“I am,” Oliver answered miserably. “I can see no other way to ensure Lord Davidson is unsuccessful, nor to prove to Lady Amelia that I have no intention of going through with my plan.” He looked up and saw Lord Havisham studying him, his eyes a little narrowed still. “I love her. I love her desperately, and now I must separate from her, for otherwise, I will break her heart completely.”
“I fear you have done so already,” Lord Havisham muttered, pushing one hand through his hair. “I do not know what to think, Montague. I do not want to believe you but given what you have said and given your countenan
ce at the present moment, I think I have no other choice but to do so.”
Oliver shrugged again, having no particular concern as to whether or not Lord Havisham believed him. If Lord Havisham intended to bring down consequences upon his head for what he had done to Lady Amelia, then Oliver would accept them without hesitation or question. Otherwise, Lord Havisham could believe what he wished.
“I do not want to help you,” Lord Havisham grated, his expression darkening. “But I feel as though I have minimal choice but to do so. Not for your sake, of course, but for the sake of Lady Amelia.”
“No.”
Oliver half rose from his seat, pointing one hand out towards Lord Havisham. “No, you cannot. You must not.”
“She cares for you.”
“I do not deserve her!”
This shout rang out across Whites, making almost every other gentleman pause in their conversation, turning to look at who might have been making such a ridiculous noise. Oliver sank back down in his chair, covering his face with his hands and wishing to heaven that Lord Havisham had never come in search of him.
“I do not deserve her,” he said again, dropping his hands to his lap and looking morosely at Lord Havisham. “I know she has come to care for me, but I will not use that against her. Her heart must forget me, Lord Havisham. I am not worthy of her affections.” Swallowing hard, he sighed heavily again. “You know what I have done, Lord Havisham. You know I am a selfish, arrogant, cruel man. Why then would you wish for Lady Amelia to tie herself to me?”
A glimmer of a smile crossed Lord Havisham’s face. “Because,” he said, leaning forward and fixing Oliver with his gaze. “Because you have proven to me, Lord Montague, that you are truly in love with Lady Amelia. You would not be as distraught as you are at present if you were not. You are willing to give her up entirely, to be without her for the rest of your life, all so she will be protected from you. That speaks of an affection that runs deeply through your heart. And besides which…” He trailed off, looking all about him for a moment, looking a little desperate. “You are not the only gentleman who has made a foolish mistake,” he said eventually, his expression grim. “I made a catastrophic mess of things some years ago. I must hope she will see the evidence of my regard for her, of my change of heart, and be willing to give me another opportunity to prove myself to her.”
Oliver frowned, not quite certain of whom Lord Havisham spoke, but wondering to himself whether the gentleman referred to Lady Smithton.
“You must give Lady Amelia the choice as to whether or not she can give you even a modicum of trust,” Lord Havisham continued, earnestly. “Once she has become aware of the truth, aware of everything you have done and everything you regret, she may then decide to give you another opportunity to prove yourself.”
“And if she does not?”
Lord Havisham sighed and sat back in his chair, his eyes growing a little sorrowful. “There is always the possibility she will do that,” he admitted, quietly. “But even if there is the smallest flicker of hope that Lady Amelia might give you another chance, Lord Havisham, then do you not wish to pursue it?”
Oliver considered this for some moments. He could not feel hope at this present time. There was not an ounce of expectation in his heart, nothing but darkness and dismay. A vision of Lady Amelia laughing up at him, her emerald eyes gleaming with delight, began to burn into his memory. He had managed to make her laugh once, had managed to bring her joy. Was he now to have that only as a memory, never to see it again? Or was there the smallest chance he might be able to see her so contented once more?
“I think it only the remotest chance such a thing will occur,” he said honestly. “And yet I feel such a longing in my heart that I cannot turn away from it.” With weary eyes, he looked back at Lord Havisham, who was nodding with a grim sense of determination in his expression. “I just do not know what I am to do to express to her the desires that linger within my heart.”
Lord Havisham’s eyes flickered. “You say you intend to speak to Lord Thornhill?” he asked as Oliver nodded. “You plan to tell him all that occurred between yourself and his wife?”
“I do,” Oliver answered, his stomach twisting with a sudden nervousness, knowing full well what Lord Thornhill’s reaction would be. “I must remove the opportunity for Lord Davidson to blackmail me by ensuring Lord Thornhill knows all.” He swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. “No matter what the consequences will be.”
There was a short silence. Oliver stared down at the ground miserably, still feeling as though Lady Amelia would reject him entirely when it came to the truth of the matter. He might profess his love, fall on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, but he was still quite certain the pain he had brought her would be too much for her to bear and certainly too much to forgive.
“I know Lord Thornhill,” Lord Havisham said slowly, breaking into Oliver’s thoughts. “Allow me to arrange the meeting on your behalf.”
Oliver opened his mouth to ask why, only for Lord Havisham to hold up one hand, continuing to speak.
“Lord Thornhill is, as you know, a very particular man. He may not agree to your calling upon him and may also refuse an invitation from you.”
Oliver sighed and nodded miserably, knowing full well his reputation preceded him and that someone like Lord Thornhill might choose to stay clear of his company.
“Therefore, I shall have him call upon me,” Lord Havisham continued, firmly. “And you will be present also when he arrives. Do you concur, Lord Montague?”
Not truly understanding why Lord Havisham was showing such willingness and desire to help him, Oliver studied the gentleman for a few minutes. Lord Havisham’s eyes were steady, his jaw set and a faint anger glistening in his eyes. Oliver knew he could not refuse such an offer, not when Lord Havisham was clearly doing all of this to aid Lady Amelia, and yet there was still reluctance to accept, fearing that it would all tumble down on his head.
“Lord Thornhill might cause a great disturbance, Lord Havisham,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes. “But I can see you are willing to accept such a consequence, and I must express my gratitude to you.” Sighing heavily, he rubbed one hand down his face and nodded. “I agree. I will come to your home whenever you wish it.”
“Good,” Lord Havisham replied, leaning forward in his chair as a resolute expression began to creep across his face. “And thereafter, perhaps the following day, I shall have you meet with Lady Amelia.”
Oliver’s heart began to beat furiously in his chest, his stomach twisting this way and that with the furious anxiety that beset him almost at once.
“It must be done,” Lord Havisham continued, a trifle more gently as though he knew precisely what Oliver was feeling. “You shall have your opportunity, and Lady Amelia shall have hers. I shall ensure it, Lord Montague.”
A sudden fear caught Oliver’s heart, and he shook his head, firmly. He could not imagine Lady Amelia being brought into Lord Havisham’s house, ready to meet with Oliver, only to discover the deep and terrible truth.
“No,” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead and feeling a dull ache begin to settle there. “No, I cannot permit her to meet with me without her knowing the truth, Lord Havisham. That is unfair.” He looked up and saw Lord Havisham frown. “I shall write to her,” he continued, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off his aching head. “I must write to her to express all I feel and all I have done.” The truth he could put into words, could write down on a page instead of struggling to find the words to tell her all he had done. “Once she has read it, once she knows the truth, then she can decide whether or not she wishes to meet with me, Lord Havisham.” He dropped his hand and looked directly at the gentleman, seeing how his expression cleared, and his eyes filled with understanding. “That, I think, is only right.”
Lord Havisham’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Again, you prove your true consideration for her, Lord Montague,” he murmured, a little quietly. “But yes, you are quit
e correct. That would be best. Therefore, if you write to her, then I shall ensure the letter is placed into her hands.”
Oliver nodded quickly, having nothing else to say. He could not argue, could not pretend this was not what he wanted. “Very well,” he agreed, quietly. “I thank you, Lord Havisham.” Swallowing hard and thinking he might need another brandy, Oliver gestured to a footman, pointing to his empty glass. “And when might such a meeting be, Lord Havisham?”
“In two days hence,” Lord Havisham answered, swiftly. “I shall make all the arrangements and will ensure you are kept abreast of any changes to my plans.”
Oliver nodded, taking the glass of brandy from the footman gratefully and sitting back a little more in his chair. The weight of his responsibility had not left him and nor had the awareness of his guilt. Lady Amelia would soon know everything—and then, what sorrow would be hers!
Sorrow that was entirely his own doing. His heart filled with shame once more as he brought the glass of brandy to his lips, drinking deeply. Whatever consequences would come, he would accept them with open arms. He was nothing more than a fool, nothing more than a selfish rogue who had cared nothing for anyone but himself.
And it was time Lady Amelia knew that.
Chapter Twelve
“I do not understand.”
Amelia could feel tears beginning to creep into the corners of her eyes but refused to allow them to fall. She blinked them back hastily, just as Mrs. Peters pulled out a lace handkerchief and handed it to her.
