by Rose Pearson
“Hope?” Amelia spat the word back at her. “There is no hope. Lord Montague only wrote to me in the hope that I would still confess my love for him, that I would tell him that despite it all, I cannot pretend I do not feel an affection for him.”
Mrs. Peters’ eyes widened as she looked back at Amelia, clearly startled. “But for what reason, Amelia?” she asked as Amelia closed her eyes against the fresh wave of tears that threatened. “His letter appeared to be quite genuine.”
“Do you not see?” Amelia whispered, hopelessly. “He intends to have me do as Lord Davidson has stated. If I tell him my heart is filled still with regard for him, that will prove to Lord Montague and to Lord Davidson that I love him desperately. Lord Montague will win the bet. Lord Davidson will gain his coffers, and Lord Montague will be freed from any fear that Lord Thornhill will know of his indiscretions.”
There was silence for a minute or so, with both Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton exchanging troubled glances. Amelia said nothing more, turning her head away from them both and feeling her heart sink low in her chest. She did not know precisely why Lord Havisham had asked her here this afternoon, but nor did she truly care. There was too much of a burden on her shoulders, too much sorrow and sadness that crushed her, breaking both her spirit and her heart.
“You do not believe his words, then,” Lady Smithton said softly. “That is not something I shall condemn you for, Lady Amelia. It is more than understandable. But,” she continued, leaning a little forward in her chair, “I must ask you whether or not you do truly love Lord Montague still, as you have just said.”
Amelia sighed heavily, closing her eyes and forcing herself to nod, knowing she was unable to force the words from her lips. Even through the pain and the sorrow, she knew the love she had for Lord Montague had not gone from her heart. It had faded a little, of course, torn down by the agony of his actions, but she had not lost it entirely. Just quite how long it would take for her to remove it from herself, she did not know, but she prayed it would not be overly long.
“Then I shall continue to give you my words of guidance,” Lady Smithton said gently, her expression filled with compassion. “I confess I fear I have not been the help I ought to have been to you, Lady Amelia, but I shall state what I feel regardless.” She smiled gently, but Amelia felt no hope nor comfort, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I still cling to the belief that there may yet be a modicum of hope, Lady Amelia. Lord Montague has done you a great disservice, yes, but he may be truthful in his repentance. I can well understand your reasons for disbelieving him, but I shall pray for a moment of hope that spreads out towards a future happiness, Lady Amelia. That is, after all, what we are present here for this afternoon.”
Amelia lifted her head sharply, looking directly into Lady Smithton’s face and seeing the glimmer of a smile on the lady’s face. “Why am I here, Lady Smithton?” she asked, feeling a trifle uneasy. “And why has Lord Havisham not yet come to greet us?”
Lady Smithton opened her mouth to explain, only for the sound of voices to reach Amelia’s ears. Looking around the room for some explanation as to where these voices now came from, Amelia’s eyes finally found the source of the noise. A door to the right of the fireplace was now a little ajar. She had not noticed it before, having come in an entirely different way.
“Lord Montague has called upon Lord Havisham,” Lady Smithton explained quietly, getting to her feet and creeping towards the door, where Amelia noticed three chairs had been placed. “And Lord Thornhill is expected at any moment.”
Amelia caught her breath, staring wide-eyed at Lady Smithton, who was now beckoning her towards the door. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she began to shake her head, her whole body caught up with a sudden shudder. “I cannot,” she whispered, a wave catching her and throwing her about with the fury of her emotions. “It would not be right.”
“Normally, I would advise you most severely that eavesdropping is not at all seemly,” Mrs. Peters murmured, leaning towards Amelia and pressing one hand atop hers. “But in this situation, my dear lady, I know it would bring you a good deal of clarity, which would aid you in your struggles.”
“Clarity?” Amelia repeated, not quite certain what Mrs. Peters meant and still quite overcome with what Lady Smithton was asking her to do. “I am to listen to a private conversation in the hope that it will bring me some sort of understanding?”
Mrs. Peters smiled gently. “But of course,” she answered, pressing Amelia’s hand. “You state you believe Lord Montague wrote you such a letter in the hope that you would still profess your love so that he might win his bet. What if that is not so? What if he means every word?”
Amelia shook her head, her throat beginning to ache. “I cannot know that.”
“But you can know it,” Mrs. Peters said pointedly. “Lord Montague is about to meet with Lord Thornhill. Does that in itself not tell you something about his letter? About his true desires?” She patted Amelia’s hand again and then sat back, her gaze firm. “Listen to what is said and allow the truth of it to enter your heart. Then you will know for certain whether or not Lord Montague has meant what he said to you in his letter. You will have no doubts when it comes to his statement of affections for you.” She smiled as Amelia let out a long breath, her shoulders settling as she realized what Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton meant. “There is, as Lady Smithton stated, still a modicum of hope. If he proves to be true in his affections and if you can find a forgiveness for him within your heart, then there may be a happy future awaiting you, Lady Amelia. And whilst I do not condone what he did, I know a heart filled with love is more than many a young lady has been able to hope for.”
Amelia’s throat worked furiously as she blinked back tears. She had been quite determined that everything Lord Montague had said in his letter had been solely for his own purposes, for his own desires. She had convinced herself his words meant nothing and they were said only to encourage her affections. But now, it seemed, she was being given the opportunity to discover whether or not it was the truth.
“I—I do not know what to do,” she whispered as Lady Smithton moved back towards her, graceful as ever. “What if he does not do as you both seem to expect?”
“Then you will feel a great deal of pain,” Lady Smithton replied without hesitation. “I would not pretend to you that it will be easy to endure, Lady Amelia, but I must admit, I do not believe it will be as you fear.” Holding Amelia’s gaze, steadily, Lady Smithton gestured towards the door. “Lord Havisham met Lord Montague in Whites. Lord Montague spoke to him there, told him he had every intention of speaking to Lord Thornhill so that Lord Davidson could have no hold over him any longer. Lord Havisham then insisted on arranging the meeting here, so you, Lady Amelia, might be able to know the truth. The fact that Lord Montague has appeared, just as he stated he would, gives the impression he is just as willing as before to state the truth to Lord Thornhill.”
Amelia sucked in a breath, her stomach tightening. “But he will be punished severely,” she whispered, realizing the enormity of what Lord Montague was about to do. “Lord Thornhill will bring down grave consequences upon his head—although I will not state they are not deserved.” She swallowed hard, seeing Lady Smithton nod in agreement. If Lord Montague has truly willing to speak to Lord Thornhill, to admit his fault, and thereby remove Lord Davidson’s hold on him, then Amelia would have to admit she had been mistaken about his motivations to write to her in such a way. All she had to do was to rise to her feet, walk across the room, and sit down so that she could overhear the conversations.
A third, louder voice echoed from the room next to the parlor, making Lady Smithton look round.
“You must decide, Lady Amelia,” she said urgently, looking back at Amelia quickly. “It seems Lord Thornhill has arrived.”
Amelia took in a long breath, steadying her composure. Her heart began to quicken as she got to her feet, her chin lifting a little as she nodded to Lady Smithton.
“I will
listen,” she said softly. “But what I shall do thereafter, I cannot say.”
Lady Smithton smiled and beckoned her towards the other side of the room. “Then come,” she murmured as Mrs. Peters rose to her feet to join them. “And let us listen together.”
Chapter Thirteen
Oliver could not remember an occasion when he had felt like this. His palms were sweaty, his throat feeling like sandpaper, and his voice a little hoarse as he greeted Lord Thornhill. Moisture beaded on his forehead as Lord Havisham gestured for both gentlemen to sit down.
Licking his lips, he grunted his thanks as Lord Havisham handed him a glass of whisky, knowing full well he would need a good deal of courage to speak as openly and as honestly as he was about to. In his mind, he allowed himself to remember Lady Amelia, knowing he was doing this because of her. She had come into his life in a most unexpected fashion, even though he had never intended to have her invade almost every part of his heart and mind. Had he never met her, had he never forced himself towards her, then he might now be continuing as the rogue he had always been. He had a good deal to thank Lady Amelia for, even if she would never belong to him in the way he had once hoped. He could now go forward, even with the consequences Lord Thornhill was sure to bring, knowing his life had forever been changed.
“Lord Montague,” Lord Thornhill muttered, observing Oliver with a shrewd eye. “I did not expect you to be present this afternoon.”
Oliver cleared his throat before taking a small sip of whisky. Lord Thornhill, being an older gentleman, had a good deal of gravitas about him. There was a presence that filled the room, leaving Oliver with the uncomfortable impression that Lord Thornhill might already be aware of the reasons for this strange meeting.
“I did intend to call upon you myself,” he began, irritated with himself that his voice was so hoarse. “But Lord Havisham suggested it might be easier if a meeting was arranged at his townhouse.”
Lord Thornhill eyed Lord Havisham for a moment before returning a quizzical eye to Oliver. “And what you mean by that is Lord Havisham did not believe I would be willing to meet with you, Lord Montague,” he said, betraying his sharp and calculating mind. “To which, I state, he would have been quite correct.” His brow lowered, his lips pulling tight for a moment as he eyed Oliver. “You are not the sort of gentleman I would ever wish to have in my acquaintance.”
Oliver winced, looking away from Lord Thornhill as the hard truth hit him square between the brows. “I can well understand that,” he stated, honestly, not quite looking at Lord Thornhill. “I confess now I have turned from that way of living, Lord Thornhill, but there are things I must still do to ensure I have set my back to it completely.”
“Oh?” Lord Thornhill lifted one eyebrow, eyeing Oliver carefully. “And what is it you wish to say to me?”
Oliver hesitated, his throat closing as everything in him began to scream a warning. If he told Lord Thornhill the truth, then the consequences that might follow could be unbearable. He would not be able to hold his head up in society for years to come.
And yet, he knew he had to tell the gentleman the truth. Lady Amelia meant so much to him that he could not allow Lord Davidson to have a chance of winning his bet. He had to tell Lord Thornhill what he had done.
“I am a rogue,” he stated honestly, aware his voice was rough and feeling a tension rattle all through him. “I will not pretend otherwise, Lord Thornhill. My reputation is as such as I am aware that I have brought much shame to myself, which I fear I shall never be free from.”
Lord Thornhill said nothing but merely took a sip of his brandy whilst Lord Havisham looked on, encouraging Oliver by his mere presence. Taking in another long breath, Oliver let it out slowly and tried to find the right words to say.
“I have often enjoyed the kisses of young debutantes but have never once pursued them further than that,” he stated, fully aware such a thing was not, by any means, an accolade. “However, I have enjoyed the company of other ladies of the ton, who are able to share their affections without concern.” This was, of course, an odd way of trying to state the truth, but Oliver did not want to blurt out that he had enjoyed a warm acquaintance with Lady Thornhill last season, for fear of what might occur thereafter. He was trying his best to put it in as careful a way as possible, in the hope that Lord Thornhill might be able to understand the truth without Oliver having to fully express it. “Most were wealthy and independent widows, whilst one or two of my acquaintances merely avoided their husbands.” Cringing inwardly, he looked towards Lord Thornhill, seeing the man’s expression darken and feeling quite certain the gentleman knew of what he was speaking. “These…acquaintances have now come to an end and have been over for at least a year or more, but I will not pretend they did not occur.”
There was nothing but silence for some minutes. Lord Thornhill did not take his eyes off Oliver, whilst Lord Havisham swirled his drink in his glass but said nothing. The tension grew steadily, with the atmosphere darkening with every second that passed. It was as if a gathering storm had entered the townhouse, with dark clouds swirling above Oliver’s head and a lightning bolt threatening to strike him at any moment. He could do nothing other than wait, seeing how Lord Thornhill’s face was growing angrier with every moment that passed.
“You mean to tell me, Lord Montague, you have enjoyed a closeness with my wife?”
The question hung in the air for a moment, the answer burning on Oliver’s lips. He could deny it, could pretend this was not at all what he had meant, but in doing so, it would only be to save his reputation. That was not the sort of gentleman he was any longer. He was not the arrogant, selfish cad he had once been.
“That is precisely what I am telling you,” he said honestly. “I can only apologize, Lord Thornhill, for the trouble and the strife I have caused you.”
Lord Thornhill’s jaw worked furiously for a moment or two, his eyes narrowing all the more. “And might I ask why you are so eager to tell me this, Lord Montague?” he rasped, his hand white on the whisky glass. “Surely you must know I do not take such a slight lightly?”
Oliver nodded. “I am fully aware of what might follow,” he said honestly. “I will not pretend I have not done wrong, Lord Thornhill, for my guilt is plain before me.” Swallowing a quick mouthful of whisky, he drew in a long breath. “I tell you this so that the lady I care for will not bear any consequences for my foolish actions.” Again, a vision of Lady Amelia came to his mind, and he found his determination bolstered. “I was foolish enough to be swayed by a gentleman who wanted to use my indiscretions against me. In short, I treated her most ill and, in doing so, realized just how cruel I have become.” His head lowered as the weight of his sins bore down on him again, their fierceness biting at his heart. “I do not deserve the affections of that particular lady, and yet she gave them to me regardless. I will not permit her to be further used by this particular gentleman, nor by myself for that matter. Therefore, to ensure such a thing does not occur, I sought to confess the truth to you, Lord Thornhill.”
Much to Oliver’s surprise, Lord Thornhill let out a bark of laughter. Laughter that was filled with disbelief and mockery as opposed to mirth.
“Surely you cannot expect me to believe for one moment that you have any sort of true affection for a lady of the ton!” Lord Thornhill laughed, shaking his head. “You are saying this only to encourage me not to punish you for what you have done!”
Oliver shook his head, feeling his heart sink into his boots. “I would try to convince you otherwise, Lord Thornhill, but I know very well my reputation does not do anything to encourage you to believe I am telling the truth.”
“No,” Lord Thornhill agreed, with a mocking smile. “It does not. I know you to be a manipulative, cruel sort who cares nothing for others and will use all manner of ways to get what you desire. Why, then, should I believe you now?”
There was no answer to this, Oliver knew. He could not defend himself. There was nothing he could say that would make
Lord Thornhill believe him.
“If I might,” Lord Havisham interrupted, making Oliver lift his head. “I would not have arranged this meeting, Lord Thornhill, unless I believed Lord Montague was genuine in his affections. There is a desire here to change, and I must support that, for the sake of the lady in question.”
Lord Thornhill snorted in apparent disdain but made no further remark.
“I will accept whatever consequences you wish to throw at me,” Oliver stated, quietly, seeing Lord Thornhill’s eyes swivel back to him. “I accept them without hesitation nor protest. They are entirely what I deserve.”
There was silence for some moments, but Oliver found a small sense of peace begin to fill him. He had done what he had sought to do and, in doing so, had found a release that he had not even known he needed. There was nothing to tie him to Lord Davidson’s will any longer and, with the letter he had written to Lady Amelia, she too would know the truth. His heart ached in knowing she would, most likely, turn away from him completely, but there came a contentment in knowing what he had done was the right thing.
“Lord Montague,” Lord Thornhill grated, his expression still one of sheer fury. “I am not inclined to believe a word of what you say. You have done a great ill to my good name.”
“I am ready to bear my shame,” Oliver replied calmly. “I will return to my estate and will not come to London again.”
Lord Thornhill shook his head, his lip curling. “I should call you out for it,” he grated, harshly. “I should seek to pull your heart from your chest for the disgrace you have brought on me.” He took in a long breath as if he were still deciding whether or not he ought to do such a thing. “But I shall not. I know full well you are not the only person to blame in this sordid circumstance.”
Oliver leaned forward in his chair, looking at Lord Thornhill directly. “I was the one who encouraged your wife, Lord Thornhill,” he said bluntly. “I will bear the entirety of the blame without hesitation.”
