by Tuft, Karen
His mother straightened, looking every inch the marchioness. “Amelia is neither overly emotional nor reactive, Anthony. If whatever happened made her willing—or worse, made her feel forced—to forgo her employment with me, I could only assume something dreadful had occurred.”
“And I saw the way you both looked at each other,” Louisa said. “Despite her rank, I could not allow such a love match to founder. Not every marriage is as fortunate as Farleigh’s and mine.”
“This is true,” Farleigh said, taking his wife’s hand and kissing it while winking at Anthony.
“Louisa, you are ever the romantic,” Anthony said, feeling both amused and touched by her concern. “And you, Father, what is your opinion on the subject?”
Lord Ashworth was silent for a time, staring thoughtfully at the fire. “I confess I was not happy with what happened initially between you and Miss Clarke, but I do like her. She has been devoted to your mother, especially when your mother needed someone to be there for her the most. For that I am grateful.
“Additionally, Ashworth men are gentlemen of honor. In a rash moment, you compromised Miss Clarke, and it simply would not do for this same young lady to be ill used and tossed aside. I am reconciled, therefore, to the fact that while she would not have been my first choice for you, she is nonetheless a young lady of fine character.”
It was quite a speech, and Lord Ashworth was winded when he finished. Anthony was deeply moved by his father’s words. He crossed to his father’s chair and dropped to a crouch, taking the marquess’s hand in his own. “Father,” he said, “how I honor you.”
Lady Ashworth blinked back tears, and Louisa reached for Farleigh’s handkerchief.
“None of this now,” Lord Ashworth said. “Stand up, son. Neither your mother nor your sister will be able to rest until you tell them what is happening.”
Anthony nodded and stood. “Amelia did indeed release me from our betrothal,” Anthony said. “However, we have since discussed the matter, and I have persuaded her to give me this week to court her respectably before she makes her final decision. And lest you think otherwise, I have every intention of wooing her successfully and marrying her.”
“I am so relieved!” Louisa said, pressing her hands to her bosom.
“But there is work yet to be done. She is still of the opinion that she is unworthy and I am only marrying her out of responsibility.”
“The girl always did have sense,” the marquess said. “She is correct, after all.”
“I wish to convince her otherwise,” Anthony said firmly. “I find she suits me. She has experienced much of life and death and seems to understand my . . . bleak . . . moods better than anyone, excepting Lucas.”
“Oh, Anthony,” his mother said. “My heart breaks for you and what you suffered.”
“My suffering was nothing compared to others’, Mother,” he said softly.
“Well, I shall do everything I can to help,” Louisa declared.
“Within reason, my dear,” Farleigh said. “You have our child to consider, remember.”
She patted her round belly. “I will, of course. And Mama will help too, will you not, Mama?”
The marchioness glanced at Lord Ashworth, Louisa, and Farleigh and then turned to Anthony and nodded. “Tell us what you would like us to do.”
* * *
Amelia received a note while she and Lady Walmsley were spending the afternoon quietly reading in the solar, inviting the two of them to join Lady Ashworth and Lady Farleigh the following afternoon for tea. They were also to be joined by Lords Ashworth, Halford, and Farleigh. Amelia handed the card to Lady Walmsley.
“It would appear that your letter to Lady Ashworth stirred the pot,” Lady Walmsley said with amusement after she read it. “The marquess would not have traveled from Oxfordshire with Lady Ashworth and the others unless they all concluded it was necessary.”
“Oh no,” Amelia said, rising from her seat and pacing about. “What if he ends up taking a turn for the worse? It will be my fault.” If anything were to happen to the marquess due to the strain of travel, Amelia would never forgive herself. Besides which, having the marquess become involved in her current arrangement with Anthony was a terrifying thought.
“And I suppose it would be your fault, too, if I suddenly were to keel over and die?” Lady Walmsley said.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Amelia asked in a panic, reaching for her hand in concern.
“Of course not,” she said, waving Amelia off. “But even if I were feeling unwell, it would not be your fault. I do not know where you get these foolish notions—you and that boy and your overdeveloped sense of responsibility. The more important question is, what do you plan to do?”
“Anthony asked me to agree to give him a week and consider marrying him with as open a mind as possible,” she said.
“I know all that. I was not far away, you will recall, when the two of you reconciled. I wholeheartedly approve, by the way,” Lady Walmsley said with a nod. “You are a practical girl, Amelia, and only a foolish one would turn down the Earl of Halford, regardless of the circumstances. Perhaps this week you will finally realize this. Should you decide to refuse him, perish the thought, you may remain with me as long as you like, as I told you before. I have not enjoyed myself so much in years—ever since my niece used to bring her school friends here for holidays.” She paused then, a wistful look in her eye. “They were a jolly group of girls, and it was always great fun to have them here with Walmsley and me, and in the country with us too.”
“Tell me about those times,” Amelia said.
Lady Walmsley directed her gaze back at Amelia. “I was delighted when Julia arrived from India. I missed my sister desperately, and there was much of her in her daughter. Julia struggled at first, being away from her parents, of course, but also adjusting to England after living her entire life in India. It was her parents’ intent that she attend a girls’ school in England, though, and learn how to be a proper English lady. Her great-grandfather, my grandfather, was an earl, and with her connections to my husband and me, Julia had an opportunity to make a good match.
“She eventually settled in at school and made wonderful friends, including your mother, who was a frequent guest. I imagine that was why your father suggested you contact me after his death, since I had a fondness for Julia and her friends and would do whatever I could to help one of their daughters.”
“For which fact I cannot be more grateful,” Amelia said earnestly.
Lady Walmsley smiled and patted her hand. “Nor I, my dear. At any rate, everything began to go much better. The girls held little dramas, they sang, they embroidered. Your mother frequently played the pianoforte, much as you did the other night.”
“I should love to have heard her perform on your pianoforte; it is such a beautiful instrument,” Amelia said with a sigh.
“And she would be pleased, no doubt, to know how accomplished her daughter has become,” Lady Walmsley said. “There, now.” She patted the armrests of her chair with finality before boosting herself from her chair. “I have reminisced long enough. It is time to look forward, not dwell on the past. Halford could be your future, if you want it.”
“But is it best for him when there are so many ladies he could choose from who would be better suited?”
“What does that mean, ‘better suited’?” Lady Walmsley asked. “What young lady understands the loss of death better than you? Who understands the needs of the people she is tasked to shepherd over or has the capacity to care for them better than you? Halford needs that person, not someone who knows what signal she is sending with the snap of her fan or what the latest fashion is. He will be a fine marquess, like his father before him, but to do it, he will need a partner, not a consort.”
Amelia’s heart beat faster at the words Lady Walmsley uttered. She could be that for Anthony; she knew she could
. Her upbringing had taught her many practical things about life and living, but it had also taught her charity and love.
Was it actually possible for her to marry Anthony after all? She loved him, and he had told her he cared for her.
Perhaps caring could grow into love. Was she willing to take that risk? And what if it was all he could ever offer? Would it be enough?
She had a week to decide.
Chapter 15
The week passed in a whirlwind. Every morning Amelia was greeted by a new bouquet of flowers from Anthony, and every afternoon he took her for a drive in his curricle through Hyde Park, where she gradually made the acquaintance of many of his friends. She had been to tea with Lady Ashworth and Louisa twice, and they had all attended the opera together, except for Lord Ashworth, who was looking much better but still chose his level of activity with an eye toward his health.
Anthony too was looking healthier. More rested. And other than the evening when they had attended the opera, Amelia had played the pianoforte for him. He seemed to find tranquility from her music, regardless of what she played. He would read or write letters or simply shut his eyes and listen. Lady Walmsley always remained with them, diligent chaperone that she was, although she always allowed them a discreet amount of time alone together too.
Amelia looked forward to those times most of all, the memory of each tucked safely in her heart.
His kisses were tender, and Amelia had never felt more cherished. Once, he had wandered to the pianoforte while she had played a song he’d requested and had stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, just listening and watching her fingers glide over the keyboard as though he could become one with her and the music. When she’d finished playing, he’d lowered his head and kissed the nape of her neck, raising goose bumps. “Ah, Amelia,” he had murmured to her on that occasion, his head pressed to hers. “What a gift you are to me.”
It was not precisely a declaration of love, but it gave Amelia hope.
Tonight Anthony was escorting her to a ball the Duke and Duchess of Atherton, close friends of his parents, were holding. Even Lord Ashworth planned to make a brief appearance, telling his concerned wife, “If I am well enough to subject my backside to a torturous journey by coach from Oxfordshire, I am capable of sitting on a stuffed chair and playing cards for an hour or two. My health may have served as an excuse to avoid attending the opera, but it will not deter me from mingling with old friends.”
Amelia had wanted to hug him after that remark, certain he was doing it as a show of force for her and Anthony’s sake, although the marchioness did not look nearly so pleased by his words.
Jane was putting the finishing touches on Amelia’s hair. She had truly outdone herself this time, Amelia thought as she viewed herself in the vanity mirror. Her hair was held back by a pearl bandeau, and strings of tiny pearls had been woven into the cascade of ringlets that fell softly from the crown of her head.
Her gown for the evening was exquisite. It was a deep gold velvet, with a square neckline and short puff sleeves. It was simple and elegant. Perfect.
Jane carefully assisted Amelia into her gown and matching velvet slippers.
“Oh, miss,” Jane breathed, “you look like a princess! Or at least a countess, if you end up marrying Lord Halford, which I am hoping you will.” She blushed. “Madame Veronique was right; it is the perfect color to go with that gorgeous hair of yours. It’s a right pleasure to do your hair, miss. Lord Halford is going to be speechless with wonder when he casts his eyes on you.”
“Thank you, Jane. If what you say is true, it will be due to your efforts. I have had this hair all my life, and it has never made a man speechless before.”
Jane giggled, and Amelia opened the drawer of her vanity and removed her two boxes. She opened the one that held the beautiful pearl necklace and ear bobs Anthony had given her. “Help me with this, will you, Jane?” she said, reverently removing the necklace from the box and handing it to her.
Jane fastened the necklace while Amelia put on the ear bobs. “There! The perfect finishing touch,” Jane said.
Amelia would give Anthony the engraved watch fob this evening as a way of letting him know she had decided to accept his proposal. She had decided to make the betrothal one in truth. Oh, but the very idea made her heart flutter, whether in joy or panic, she wasn’t entirely sure.
She pulled on one glove and then the other, smoothing the soft kid leather over her arms. Then she picked up her fan and tucked the box into her reticule and turned toward the door.
“Don’t forget your wrap, miss,” Jane said, scurrying toward her. Madame Veronique had suggested a creamy lace shawl, and indeed, it went splendidly with her dress.
The ball gown was the crown jewel of Amelia’s new wardrobe. She had never worn such elegant attire before and had to admit the combined effect of wardrobe and hair left her feeling exhilarated and more confident to face Anthony’s peers than she ever had before.
Lady Walmsley was in her private sitting room when Amelia went to say good-bye to her before Anthony arrived. She had opted out of attending the ball since Amelia would have no need of a chaperone, what with Ladies Ashworth and Farleigh in attendance, preferring to allow herself a quiet evening at home. She had changed into a comfortable dressing gown and was sitting by the fire doing her needlework, her lacy cap sitting slightly askew on her silvery curls.
“Oh, my dear,” Lady Walmsley said, setting her work aside and rising to her feet. “You are a vision.” Her pale blue eyes sparkled. “Now, be a good girl and turn around so I may get the entire effect.” She drew a circle in the air to demonstrate.
Amelia dutifully did so and then snapped her fan open in a coquettish gesture, making Lady Walmsley chuckle.
“Well done!” she said. “But I think we had better get you back to the country as soon as may be or you will have so many beaus Halford will not be able to get near you.”
Amelia laughed, feeling suddenly lighthearted.
There was a soft knock at the sitting room door, and a footman poked his head into the room. “The Earl of Halford has arrived, Miss Clarke.”
“Thank you.” Now that he was here, Amelia’s pulse began to race.
“I feel very much like the fairy godmother sending off Cinderella,” Lady Walmsley said. “But I am not going to warn you to return at midnight. Midnight is when the supper dance will occur, and my wish is for you to dance and dine with your betrothed.”
“Oh, Lady Walmsley, how I love you!” Amelia threw her arms around the older woman, grateful to have her in her life, grateful to have someone to bid her farewell as she went to greet Anthony.
“Tut tut, child,” Lady Walmsley said. “You will wrinkle your gown if you are not careful. Now, off with you, and have a wonderful time.”
Amelia nodded and left the room, stopping when she reached the landing. Down in the entry hall stood Anthony. He wore formal black, with gold cuff links winking out from his snowy white linens, his white waistcoat embroidered with gold as well. He looked every inch the nobleman, his military posture adding to his aura of authority.
And Amelia was going to agree to marry this nobleman, this noble man, tonight.
He must have heard her approach, for he turned and looked up, his piercing blue eyes taking in every inch of her before locking his gaze on her face. He strode up the stairs, stopping just a few steps short of the landing so they were eye to eye. “You are utterly breathtaking,” he declared in a low, husky voice. “I shall be the envy of every man this evening.” He held out his hand to her.
She offered him hers, which he tucked into the crook of his arm, and they descended the stairs slowly, their eyes never leaving each other. Instead of helping her with her shawl, however, he led her into the front parlor. He ran a gloved finger lightly over the pearl necklace around her neck, and she shivered at his touch, silently glad he had noticed she�
��d worn it. “I have been remiss,” he said. “I hope you will forgive me.”
“For what?” Amelia said, mesmerized by the expression on his beautiful face.
He reached into his pocket and then dropped to one knee. “Dearest Miss Clarke,” he began, and Amelia’s heart raced. “Despite the fact that our betrothal is public knowledge, it dawned on me—rather late in the process, I am afraid—that I had never formally asked for your hand, and for that I am the most abject of men.” He reached for her trembling hand. “For you are more deserving than that.”
He reached into his pocket and extracted a ring, then held it up as an offering to Amelia. It was gold set with a large emerald, a diamond on either side. “It was my grandmother’s,” Anthony said. “And I knew it was to be yours. It reminded me of your eyes, although it does not do them justice . . . May I?”
Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, my love,” she whispered. “Yes.”
He gently peeled her glove down her arm and off, the sensation sending shock waves clear down to her toes, and then slipped the beautiful ring on her finger and rose to his feet. “One week from today, I intend to make you my wife. I refuse to entertain any arguments to the contrary.” He smiled mischievously at the remark, and yet there was a look of determination in his eyes. “I want you for my wife, my Amelia.”
He reached for her wrap, and Amelia, dazed as she was, finally remembered her gift for him. “Wait,” she said, opening her reticule and removing the box inside. “This is for you.”
“A gift?” he asked, turning the box over in his large hands.
“A betrothal gift, of sorts,” she said. When he looked at her inquiringly, she shrugged. “All right, yes. I got a betrothal gift for you awhile back.”
His mouth drew into a lazy grin. “I am delighted.” He opened the box and removed the fob. “And it is inscribed, I see. With an A.”
