The Earl's Betrothal

by Tuft, Karen

  “Miss Amelia!” a voice called out to her as she walked up a small incline next to the lake. Several of the village’s young men were taking turns rowing the boats for the girls, who were dressed in their Sunday finest and doing their best to flirt with the boys in return, and Amelia’s heart ached watching the scene before her.

  “Miss Amelia!” the voice called again. She turned to look this time. Young William was chugging toward her as fast as his little legs could carry him. “Papa says I am old enough to be in the three-legged race, and he is to be my partner! It will be jolly great fun, and we shall win!”

  Amelia could see Farleigh heading toward her, little Penny in his arms, undoubtedly intending to bring William to heel. It was touching to see Farleigh with his children this way. She crouched down as William reached her, red-faced from his exertions and grinning. “I will be cheering loudly for you both,” she said to him.

  “Will you watch us, then? Oh, it will be the greatest of good times! Penny is not so big as I am, and Papa says she is too little to do it. But I am not.”

  “Meela!” Penny called out to her.

  “Good morning, Miss Penny,” Amelia said, waving at the tiny girl.

  “Good morning, Miss Clarke,” Farleigh said as he reached her and his errant son. “The fickle English weather has decided to cooperate with us for a change. It is a lovely day, is it not?”

  “Indeed,” she replied. “I understand from Master William here that you are to participate in the three-legged race.”

  “Well, that remains to be seen,” he said, giving a pointed look to William. “Will has been given strict instructions not to wander off on his own, and yet his enthusiasm for the day has already made that a challenge.”

  “I shall do better, Papa, I promise! It is only that I needed to tell Miss Amelia all about it.”

  Amelia bit her lip to avoid smiling. It would not do to undermine Farleigh’s parental warnings.

  “Meela,” Penny said again, holding her arms out to Amelia. “Down.”

  “You are obviously a favorite of my children, Miss Clarke, for which I can only be grateful. However, Penny,” he said as Penny began to wriggle in earnest, “you will be staying with Papa at present. I intend to spend the morning with my children, you see, Miss Clarke. Louisa is saving her limited store of energy for the ball this evening, and I have given Nurse leave to enjoy the activities herself for part of the day.”

  “I am sure the children will enjoy it. May I offer to watch Penny for you while you and Will race?”

  “It will not be a burden to you to do so? I understand you have responsibilities related to the day’s activities.”

  “Not at all,” Amelia assured him. “Everyone is pitching in wonderfully. It would be my pleasure.”

  “Then I will take you up on your kind offer, Miss Clarke. Thank you.”

  “The children’s games are over there.” Amelia pointed toward the area that had been designated. “And just beyond it, there is lawn bowling set up especially for the children.”

  “Thank you again, Miss Clarke,” Farleigh said, offering a slight bow, elegantly done considering he was balancing a wiggling toddler in his arms. “Make your bow to Miss Clarke, Will.”

  The boy did, bending fully at the waist.

  She answered with a curtsy.

  Amelia watched Farleigh walk toward the lawn bowling area with William in tow. Penny waved back at Amelia over Farleigh’s shoulder. “Bye, Meela!” she called.

  What darling children they were! Amelia adored them, loved them more and more each time the family visited Ashworth Park.

  It saddened her to think she might not have children of her own. Marriage was not likely in her future. The local men found her education and gently bred manners intimidating—other than Dr. Samuels, unfortunately—and she was too lowborn for the other gentlemen.

  She wandered the grounds, watching families laugh and play together, feeling alone, and missing her parents. She wanted to belong somewhere, to somebody.

  The kiss she’d shared with Lord Halford flashed through her mind. He had made her feel cherished in that moment, and the feeling was an irresistible one. How was she to fight it or her attraction to the man who had offered it to her? And yet she must, for both their sakes.

  She was still upset that he had directed such a controversial question to her last evening, and as she had reflected back on it throughout the night, she had seen a glint of challenge in his eyes, like he had been daring her to say what she truly thought despite the lofty company. And she had responded to his challenge.

  It was nearing midday, and people began spreading out blankets for their picnic luncheons. It was also time for the judging to begin. Lord Halford had said he would do it, and he seemed the type of man who kept his word. Considering his reluctance, it might prove entertaining. He had put her on the spot last night; she would enjoy seeing the tables turned today.

  By the time she arrived back at the judging area, a large crowd had gathered. Lord Halford and Lord Cantwell were standing next to Mrs. Villiers, who fluttered nervously about them.

  Finally Lord Halford spoke. “Good people of Ashworthy, I am happy to be home and with you all once again.”

  Enthusiastic cheers and applause erupted at his words. He bowed in acknowledgment before raising his hand to silence the crowd. “I have been recruited to judge the delicious items you see before us.”

  “Watch out for old Nelly’s pie there, yer lordship,” a man called from the back. “Her cat died this week.”

  The crowd hooted while a woman Amelia assumed was Nelly swatted the man with her bonnet. “I wouldn’t do sich a thing, me lord. ’Tis me very best currants in that there, as this old humbug knows.”

  “I am confident in your fine baking skills, Nelly,” Lord Halford said to the woman, grinning. “However,” he replied to the crowd, “I have asked my good friend the Earl of Cantwell to judge in my place. I fear my palate has been tarnished by so many years of army rations. I would not do the task justice.”

  Lord Cantwell bowed to the group. “I am pleased to do the honors,” Lord Cantwell said. “Although I am certain I have never faced such a daunting challenge in all my years.”

  There was some booing and clapping at that, Amelia being inclined to boo herself, and Mrs. Villiers and women from the church auxiliary set about cutting a slice from each entry so Lord Cantwell could taste them. Lord Halford picked up a fork and dug in as well. Apparently he was not opposed to eating the baked goods, only judging them.

  The crowd began to disperse a bit, and it would be awhile before the judging would be completed, so Amelia decided this would be a good opportunity to see if Lady Ashworth needed her for anything since she hadn’t come outside yet.

  Amelia slipped through the crowd and started off in the direction of the house—and immediately ran into Harriet and Charlotte Putnam, of all the luck.

  “Ah, Miss Clarke,” Harriet said. “Up at the crack of dawn, were you? How I admire your work ethic.”

  Amelia ignored the poorly disguised jab at her status as an employee. “Good morning, Miss Putnam, Miss Charlotte,” she said. “I hope you both slept well last night.”

  “Well enough,” Harriet said.

  “I am so looking forward to the ball this evening,” Charlotte said.

  “Charlotte,” Harriet purred. “Everyone is looking forward to the ball. You need not state the obvious. Well, Miss Clarke, we must be off. We are breaking our fast al fresco with some of the gentlemen and must not keep them waiting. Good day.” She and Charlotte trotted off in the direction of Lord Halford and Lord Cantwell.

  Harriet’s plans really shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Amelia felt a stab of jealousy anyway. She stood there foolishly watching them greet the two gentlemen, who were still busy tasting pies and cakes. Amelia could see that Lord Halford was smiling at whateve
r Harriet was saying. And then he looked in Amelia’s direction and spied her watching him.

  She spun on her heel and walked swiftly to the house. How mortifying to be caught staring at him that way!

  She went to her room instead of looking for Lady Ashworth, tossed her bonnet on the bed, and plopped onto a chair. Lord Halford could not have any serious interest in Harriet Putnam, could he? Harriet Putnam, of all people?

  And yet the Putnams had something Amelia did not, which made them more eligible prospects for him than she could ever hope to be.

  They had a father who was baronet. Amelia could not say the same.

  * * *

  “They are all quite good, are they not?” Cantwell said to Anthony as he stabbed his fork into a slice of gooseberry tart he’d already tasted previously. “I would share with you, ladies,” he apologized to the Putnams, “except that we have been forbidden from doing so until the judging is over.”

  Mrs. Villiers stood nearby and nodded her head with authority.

  Anthony’s natural reaction whenever the Putnam sisters showed up was to make his excuses and run. Miss Harriet had made it perfectly clear that she was on the hunt and he was her quarry. Miss Charlotte was less of a threat marriage-wise, except that wherever she was, her elder sister was sure to be nearby.

  He had never thought himself a coward. He had faced many battles during his stint in the army and had never shirked his duty. But the last few days he had grown to understand how a fox felt when the hounds were on the scent.

  To make matters worse, when he had greeted the sisters, as polite manners had required of him, he had inadvertently glanced in the direction of the house. Miss Clarke had stood not far away, still as a statue, her eyes large as saucers. He had wanted to go to her, but she had turned and hurried away.

  “Ooh,” Miss Putnam said silkily, sliding her hand through his elbow. “How delicious everything looks! I am positively ravenous, are not you, Lord Halford?” She smiled demurely at him. “Charlotte and I had your cook prepare a special little picnic for us. I do hope you still have your appetite. Would you care to join us? And Lord Cantwell too, of course.”

  “A picnic, Miss Putnam. How thoughtful of you.” Anthony ignored the double meaning attached to her comments, impressed that he had managed his reply without outwardly grimacing.

  Kit caught a whiff of his unenthusiastic tone, however, and his eyes wrinkled with humor. “You are too kind, Miss Putnam, to have thought of us in such a generous way. Unfortunately we have been informed that the cricket match will begin shortly, and we should not be able to do our best if our stomachs are too full. The baked goods will have to suffice for the time being. May we hope that you ladies will be present to cheer us on?”

  Smooth work indeed, for which Anthony was grateful. He sighed in relief. He was beginning to find the crowds and the noise grating, and Miss Harriet and her silly sister even more so.

  “Are you all right, old man?” Kit asked him once the Putnam sisters had reluctantly wandered off. “You look as though you have been face-to-face with Old Boney himself.”

  “I would almost certainly rather face Bonaparte than Miss Putnam,” Anthony said. “The lady is on the prowl. And yet I have promised my father I will marry as soon as possible and produce an heir.”

  “Fortunately for me, I have Phillip as an heir, so I am under no such rush to be leg-shackled and fill my nursery.” He clapped his hand on Anthony’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “I am sorry about Alex, by the way. I have not had a chance to tell you that.”

  “Thank you, Kit. Ironic, is it not, that the soldier faced his mortality several times but returned, while the heir, living in the security of his home, died?”

  “Alex made his choices and experienced the consequences of them, the same as all of us. I was there. I know.”

  “Did he truly make his own choices? Do you have choices, Cantwell?” He used Kit’s title intentionally to make a point.

  “We are all born to a certain station in life, Halford, whether it is as an earl or as the son of a stable hand. It is what we do with that station that defines us. God does grant us choices, regardless of our lot in life.”

  “I am not convinced of your philosophy, Kit. We may make choices for ourselves, but they are small ones. Can the stable hand’s son become an earl? Does he have the means to educate himself and move out of the stable? And what of Miss Clarke’s answer at dinner last night? Do you think her opinions on education for women made her any friends at the table?”

  “So that is what this is about,” Kit said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Kit said, “you have developed tender feelings for Miss Clarke. I am not surprised, old man. She is a joy to look upon, and her conversation is refreshing, much like the French ladies to whom I referred.”

  “You should not mention them again if you wish to remain in good graces with the other guests. I can only imagine what kind of ladies they were.”

  “Very respectable, I assure you,” Kit said, laughing.

  “It is true I find myself drawn to Miss Clarke,” Anthony said, going back to the original topic, “but I meant my comments generally.”

  “I do take your point,” Kit said. “Bonaparte would choose to be emperor, and see where that choice has got us all.” He set his fork and plate down and patted his stomach. “I think it is time for us to name a winner of the contest. Although it will not be Nelly.”

  “Poor Nelly. Not that her pie tasted like cat, thank goodness. In fact, it was a rather decent currant pie, overall,” Anthony said.

  “I think I shall help myself to another slice of this apple cake, though, before we make the announcement.” Kit looked around to make sure Mrs. Villiers wasn’t watching, then dished another slice onto his plate. “It is really quite tasty.”

  “Is that your choice as winner, then?” Anthony pinched a piece of it off Kit’s plate and put it in his mouth. “It is good, I agree.”

  “It is the winner, then. You don’t happen to know who made it, do you?”

  “No idea,” Anthony said. “And you are not to say that I had any part in your decision. I have to live with these people and wouldn’t want anyone’s feelings hurt for the world.”

  “You have my word on it, Anthony.” Looking serious, he added, “As your friend, I would urge you to take care. I know Ashworth is in a rush to have you wed, but you have already seen more battles than any man should. I would like to see you choose a wife who will provide you with a peaceful life.”

  “Back to discussing choices again, eh? I hardly have the time to be so choosy, do I, if I am to keep my promise to my father?”

  “You would do your father more of a service if you were to find a lady wife who can help you lay your ghosts to rest. You brought several home with you from Spain.”

  “Lucas has been telling tales, the traitor.”

  “He said nothing I had not observed for myself,” Kit replied. “And now I have said my piece. At the very least, avoid the Putnam chits. Married life to either of them would only add to your nightmares.”

  “Who said anything about nightmares?” Anthony asked with alarm. Lucas wouldn’t have dared share that secret with anyone.

  “No one, Tony.” Kit looked at him strangely. “Figure of speech, is all.”

  “Right. Of course.” Now he felt a fool for having said anything.

  “But if you were having nightmares,” Kit said somberly, “it would hardly be a surprise. Come. Let us join that cricket match, shall we? We will wait until people start to leave for dinner before announcing the winner here, and give your mother and the other ladies a chance to be in attendance. What do you say?”

  “Sounds good. And thank you, Kit. You are a good friend and always have been.”

  “You can return the favor someday. I am sure I shall need one.”

 
* * *

  Amelia chased a giggling Penny near the roped-off area where the three-legged race was being held. There were multiple heats running, based on age group. Parents’ legs were tied to children’s legs, especially in the youngest group, aged six and under. Lord Farleigh, good sport that he was, had shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves before tying his son’s ankle to his own, and then he and William had practiced their strategy for staying together. Will was a bright little boy, but whether he even knew his right foot from his left, let alone would be able to keep that information straight while running, remained to be seen.

  Penny, on the other hand, cared little that her brother and father were racing. She was busy picking daisies and handing them to Amelia. Rather than see the happy blossoms go to waste, Amelia began turning them into a daisy chain. It would make a lovely springtime crown for the little girl.

  “Are we in time for the race?” Lady Louisa asked as she and Lady Ashworth walked up to Amelia. “William was insistent that I be here for his moment of glory.”

  “They are about to begin,” Amelia said.

  “Thank you, darling,” Lady Ashworth said as Penny handed daisies to her grandmama.

  “What lovely daisies, sweeting,” Lady Louisa said to Penny, bending down to give her a kiss. “What would Mama do without her precious little girl?”

  “Here, Penny, I’ve made a crown for you,” Amelia said as she fastened the final daisy into place. “We shall make you queen of the festival.”

  “Ohhh,” Penny said, her eyes growing wide.

  “Let me show you how it will look,” Amelia said, crouching next to her. She placed the daisies on her own head. “It is lovely, is it not, with all the pretty flowers chained together like this? You will look like a fairy queen and shall reign over all of our fun today. Won’t that be jolly?”