by Tuft, Karen
“Bucephalus and I apologize for the scare, Miss Clarke,” he said. “We prefer to be on our best behavior when accompanying a lady home.”
She peered over her shoulder at him and smiled, even though she was gripping his waistcoat as tightly as ever, and for that brief moment, Anthony’s heart felt a shade lighter.
“I have full confidence in both of you, my lord. I cannot blame either of you for the unruly actions of the wildlife in the neighborhood.”
“I hope we acquit ourselves better for the remainder of the ride. Are you enjoying your time at Ashworth Park?”
“Oh yes,” she replied. “Ashworth Park is beautiful, and your mother is all that is kind and agreeable. She has made me feel incredibly welcome despite the circumstances of the past year.”
“You refer to my brother and my father.”
“And to you, my lord.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Since I myself was unaware of my demise, I keep forgetting what others had been told. I’m grateful my mother had someone with her who could help ease her burdens, especially when my father took ill a second time. Ah, and here we are.”
They rode up to the main entrance, and he dismounted from behind as a stable lad scurried over. He then placed his hands on Miss Clarke’s waist to help her dismount.
She set her hands on Anthony’s shoulders for support, and as he lifted her from Bucephalus’s back and down to the ground, he suddenly found her face mere inches from his own, and he was riveted. Her eyes were the deep, lush green of home, the green of the meadows and farmlands and hedgerows of his beloved England. He had missed home.
And then his eyes wandered lower, back to those lips he’d noticed before, rosy and tempting, and he realized he wanted to kiss her. He’d only met her today, and it was highly improper for him to be entertaining such a thought. What would she say to him if she knew what he was thinking? Would she be appalled? Would she be pleased?
Would her lips be as soft and welcoming as they looked?
Her rain-dampened cheeks were now as rosy in appearance as her lips. “My lord?” she asked hesitantly.
They weren’t quite the words he might have hoped for in that mesmerizing moment, but they succeeded in reminding him where they were: in the front courtyard of Ashworth Park, where anyone could see them. He needed to search for a wife. He was a gentleman who did not dally with the affections of those in his family’s employment and, therefore, under its—and his—protection. What had he been thinking? Well, the answer was that he hadn’t been thinking, not at all, not logically at any rate, and if he wasn’t careful, he could ruin Miss Clarke’s reputation.
He would not allow that on his conscience. Not after what he had experienced at Badajoz.
He finished lowering her carefully to her feet, then stepped away from her and clasped his hands behind his back. “I hope you don’t catch your death from the chill you received,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said breathlessly. Despite his guilt over the situation, some masculine part of him was pleased he’d had an effect on her since she’d had an effect on him too. “I’m sure I will be well,” she continued. “Thank you for seeing me safely back to the house.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Clarke,” Anthony replied, and it had been a pleasure. And an aching sort of torture as well.
He bowed to her and set off for his rooms in search of dry clothing. Perhaps he would suggest a bout of boxing to Lucas. For if anyone could knock some sense into Anthony, it would be Lucas.
* * *
Amelia was unsure how she was to face Lord Halford at dinner. She had very nearly requested a tray be sent to her room instead until she remembered the words of her parents: “Amelia,” her mother had often said to her when she was a young girl, “when you face challenges you think you cannot overcome, you find strength you did not know you had.” Her father had put it more simply: “The hotter the flame, the stronger the steel.” Their own words had prepared her to cope with their deaths.
If she could face those hardships, a simple dinner with Lord Halford in attendance should be easy by comparison.
The ride home in the rain had been a wonderful, terrible experience. She had rarely been on horseback before—the horses her father had kept at the vicarage had been beasts intended to draw his small cart to visit parishioners. They’d been hacks, not the large, exquisite beast that was Bucephalus.
But even Bucephalus had paled when compared to his master. Lord Anthony Hargreaves, Earl of Halford, was an impressive specimen of a man, and his years of military service had honed every muscle Amelia had placed her hands on. She’d been pressed against his chest with her arm encircling his waist—his waist!—and she’d been able to feel every flex and twist of his powerful body as he’d managed his temperamental horse.
Amelia’s personal experience with men was limited. She had taken care of her father in his weakened state, but a male retainer had seen to bathing him and helping with his private needs. Her only other experiences had been at the village assemblies, but there, any men who had asked her to dance had treated her with deference. She was the daughter of the vicar, after all.
Perhaps they’d shown her too much deference. Or perhaps she was simply unattractive. She hadn’t actually been interested in any of the men of Little Brenchley, but maybe they hadn’t been interested in her either.
What a demoralizing thought.
Either way, her lack of experience had left her wholly unprepared for her encounter with Lord Halford.
She patted an unruly curl back into place and winced at her best gray dress, worn to respect the house’s state of mourning, though it did nothing for her complexion. Then she made herself walk into the sitting room.
“There you are, Amelia!” Lady Ashworth said. “I was about to send Anthony in search of you. Shall we dine?”
At the marchioness’s mention of Lord Halford, Amelia turned instinctively in his direction, which was a mistake. Her eyes locked with his again—and she was immediately transported back to their initial encounter and then to this afternoon when he’d helped her dismount. Rather than the impersonal assistance she’d expected, he’d held her above the ground, his brilliant blue eyes catching her own, and she’d been breathless from the flood of emotions that had surged through her.
Her lips began to tingle, remembering how his eyes had lingered on them earlier. This evening, however, in company, his eyes did not stray. “Miss Clarke,” he said, “may I introduce my friend, Mr. Lucas Jennings. Lucas and I spent a great deal of time together on the Peninsula.”
“A pleasure, Miss Clarke,” Mr. Jennings said, bowing over her hand. “I was an enlisted man, and Halford asked to have me assigned to him as his valet, luckily for me. So whether I am Halford’s friend serving as his valet or his valet serving as a friend is a mystery to us all.”
“It is no mystery whatsoever,” Lord Halford said. “You are my friend, Lucas. ’Tis enough.”
“Then we must find you a valet as soon as possible,” Mr. Jennings replied, casting his eyes up and down, scrutinizing Lord Halford’s attire. “I fear you may embarrass yourself otherwise.” He dramatically brushed a piece of imaginary lint from his sleeve.
The others in the room laughed. “Well said, Mr. Jennings,” Lady Ashford said. “I fear he is correct, Anthony. Your clothes are in desperate need of alteration. Mr. Jennings, Miss Clarke serves as my companion, yet she couldn’t be more dear were she a friend or even a daughter than she is at present, so I understand completely. And if my dear Anthony had such a friend to see him safely home from the war, then I am ever in your debt.”
“As am I,” Amelia heard Lord Halford murmur.
“Thank you, my lady,” Mr. Jennings said, seeming not to have heard Lord Halford’s comment. “As we are dining informally, may I have the unique honor of escorting you into dinner?” He winged an arm out to Lady Ashworth.
“And I would be honored to escort you, Miss Clarke,” Lord Halford said to Amelia. “If you would allow me.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Amelia set a hand lightly on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her to the dining room, surprised that she didn’t go up in flames the minute she touched him.
His black evening clothes were of the highest quality, though Mr. Jennings was right—they didn’t fit him quite as snugly as was the current fashion. He must have lost a bit of weight during his time on the Peninsula. That would undoubtedly change now that he was eating Mrs. Deal’s creations rather than military rations. His waistcoat was silver embroidered with blue, and he had a sapphire stickpin in his neckcloth. The soft wool of his sleeve did nothing to disguise the strength of the arm under her fingertips.
“Are you well, Miss Clarke, after our adventure this afternoon?” he asked.
She dared to glance upward. The corners of his mouth were turned up in what was intended to be a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am well, my lord,” she said. “While I thank you for your concern, I am not one to be put off by a little English rain.”
“Come now, that was more than a little rain, and I would be the worst sort of gentleman and host not to ask after your health, especially under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances are those, my lord? Are you saying you were responsible for the weather and my own negligence?”
“While I concede I cannot control the weather, ma’am, I also cannot help but be concerned for your welfare when I find you ill-treated by it.”
There was such earnestness in these last words that Amelia looked up at him again. This was truly a man who felt his duty to others keenly, and it said much about his character.
Oh, to have such a man truly care for her, not merely because she was one of his many responsibilities but because they shared a fondness for each other, as her parents had shared for each other and for her. Amelia missed being cherished and valued in that way.
Stop this wayward thinking, Amelia admonished herself. Lord Halford is not for you, nor you for him. Any girlish hopes of love and marriage she’d held had long been buried under the realities of her situation. She smiled politely at him. “And how are you faring, my lord, since you were as exposed to the elements as I?”
“I have endured much worse than the rains of England, Miss Clarke. Spain has a rather extreme climate, and my men and I experienced both scorching heat and bitter cold during our time on the Peninsula. So you see, a refreshing rain while assisting a lovely lady, with the anticipation of a warm house and dry clothes, was something to be enjoyed. My happiness is complete now to know you suffered no ill effects.”
He held her chair out for her and then seated himself. Amelia was relieved to be free of his close proximity. At least now the conversation would involve the four of them at the table and lessen his effect on her.
“The excitement of the day was tiring for Ashworth,” Lady Ashworth said, “and yet I believe his cheeks held more color in them than they have for some time. He took a tray earlier and is resting now.”
“I’m glad to hear it, my lady,” Mr. Jennings said. “Anthony was worried about him during our travel here. Hopefully he will have benefitted by his son’s arrival.”
Mr. Jennings, Amelia noted, was in his own way as striking in appearance as Lord Halford. He was as tall as Halford, with light-brown hair and eyes that twinkled with perceptiveness and wit.
“I believe he will, Mr. Jennings,” the marchioness said. “And I cannot thank you enough for seeing my dear Anthony safely home to us.”
“My friend here harbors a secret, Mother, which will shock you to no end.”
Startled, Amelia looked up from her soup and waited for Lord Halford to continue.
“I would have you know,” he said, “that Mr. Jennings, my esteemed valet and personal servant while in the army, is none other than the Honorable Lucas Jennings, fourth son of Viscount Thurlby.”
Amelia gasped, then quickly coughed to disguise the sound as the others turned at once to look at her. She unearthed a smile from the pit of her stomach and patted her mouth with her napkin.
She was the only commoner at the table.
She had become used to dining with the marchioness, though she took her meals alone when Lady Ashworth dined with the marquess in his rooms whenever his health allowed, which had become more frequent of late. But to be seated to dine and discover she was the only commoner in the group was disconcerting. As a fellow employee, she’d felt an unspoken camaraderie with Mr. Jennings that was now gone, along with most of her appetite.
“I’m not the least bit shocked to learn this, Anthony,” the marchioness said, “since your friend has better manners than you and speaks very well. I’m not familiar with Viscount Thurlby, though, I must admit,” the marchioness said.
“My family hails from Lincolnshire, my lady, and my father chooses to remain there rather than spend time in London. I am the fourth of five sons and have three sisters as well.”
“A very prolific man,” Halford mused.
“That goes without saying,” Mr. Jennings said, shooting him an amused glance. “But, then, he’s a farmer and is used to producing things in volume. Thus, you can see why I enlisted, Lady Ashworth, rather than put my father to the expense of buying a commission for me. It was quite an adventure for a young man.”
“I keep telling Lucas,” Lord Halford said, “that he has seen to his duty and brought me safely back to the bosom of my family, and yet the man stubbornly refuses to listen, remaining here and fussing over me like a mother hen.”
“If what I hear is true, Mr. Jennings,” Lady Ashworth said, taking a dainty sip of soup, “that you saved my son’s life, then you are an honored guest and may stay as long as you wish. But isn’t your family anxious to have you home with them?”
“Thank you for your hospitality, my lady. My family is aware of my whereabouts, but my intention is to remain here with the captain for the time being.”
“I’m not a captain any longer,” Lord Halford said.
“Hardly matters,” Mr. Jennings replied. “You’re still pompous and bossy, aren’t you?”
Lady Ashworth chuckled, while Amelia attempted another spoonful of soup, utterly unable to contribute to the conversation.
Lady Ashworth dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “Dreadful weather we had this afternoon after an especially promising morning. I hope the sudden rain didn’t interfere with your errand in the village, Amelia.”
“No, my lady,” Amelia said, giving up on her soup entirely and allowing a footman to remove the dish. “And I was spared a lengthy walk in the rain by the arrival of your son on horseback.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to look at her, one of which was a pair of brilliant blue eyes that sent electricity straight through her.
“It’s true,” Lord Halford said, still looking at her. “I took Bucephalus for a run and am very thankful I chose to do so, as it allowed me to be of service.”
Mr. Jennings coughed and took a sip from his goblet.
“Well,” Lady Ashworth said as her soup dish was cleared away and the next course presented to her. “I suppose that is a good thing, then. But both of you . . . on Bucephalus? In all that rain and mud? I hope you will be more careful in the future, Anthony, especially after what happened to your brother.” She stopped speaking and gripped her napkin. “And you too, Amelia,” she said when she had recovered her emotions. “I would hate for anything untoward to happen.”
While there were many ways to interpret the word untoward, and Amelia was sure Lady Ashworth was referring to Alexander’s untimely death, Amelia realized the word was an appropriate reminder that she and Lord Halford had been alone together, unchaperoned.
/> “Bucephalus was every bit the gentleman,” Lord Halford assured his mother.
“I don’t doubt it, Anthony,” she retorted. “It is you who needs to be trained to the bit now that you are back.”
He barked out a laugh, and Mr. Jennings chuckled. “Well said, Lady Ashworth,” Mr. Jennings said, raising his goblet to her.
Lady Ashworth returned to her original subject. “And how are the plans for the fete, Amelia? I hope you were met with enthusiasm in the village.”
“Oh, yes, my lady,” Amelia said. “Word of Lord Halford’s arrival had already made the rounds, and by the time I arrived, the celebration was as good as planned. I had but to inform everyone of the day.”
“Wonderful! It is as I had hoped.” She placed her napkin aside. “I confess to having had a joyful but tiring day. If you will excuse me, I think I will retire and see how Ashworth is faring. Good evening.”
She rose, Lord Halford standing to assist her, Mr. Jennings rising from his seat as well. “Good night, Mother,” Lord Halford said, kissing her on the cheek. “And sweet dreams.”
“Thank you, Anthony. Oh, my dear, dear Anthony!” She laid her hand on his cheek. “How good it is to have you alive and home! I shall be thanking God on my knees for quite a while tonight.”
It was as good a time as any for Amelia to make her own exit, especially since her desire for food had abandoned her. She rose, and Mr. Jennings held her chair for her. “If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said, “I believe I shall retire as well.”
Mr. Jennings bowed over her hand. “Good evening, then, Miss Clarke.”
She turned toward Lord Halford, who also took her hand. “Good evening. I am glad our little escapade this afternoon did not leave you the worse for wear.” His lips lightly brushed her knuckles, setting them on fire.
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, grateful her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
She walked sedately from the dining room and then hurried to her room, shutting the door safely behind her.
* * *
