The Earl's Betrothal

by Tuft, Karen

  “For Anthony,” she said. “Or for Ashworth, when the time comes, if you like, although I hope that occasion is far into the future.”

  The mention of his father’s eventual death sobered them both.

  “Instead, I will always think of it as an A for Amelia,” he said softly. He removed his pocket watch and replaced its existing fob with hers. “I shall wear it proudly as a token from my beautiful wife-to-be.”

  He took her shawl now and set it gently about her shoulders, then escorted her to his waiting carriage. Once they were settled inside, Anthony sitting across from her, his back to the horses, the coachman cracked his whip, and they set off to the Duke of Atherton’s large London house.

  They chatted comfortably all the way to their destination, and it was only after they had arrived that it dawned on Amelia that while she had called Anthony her love, he had yet to offer the same word to her, though he had said other lovely things. But not love.

  She tried not to let it bother her, but it stung nonetheless.

  * * *

  The London residence of the Duke and Duchess of Atherton was located in Grosvenor Square, and there was already a long line of carriages queued up, waiting to deliver their occupants at the red carpet leading to the door.

  So far, Amelia had been seen with Anthony only in Hyde Park, the theater and opera, and at a few dinner parties that included the Ashworth’s closest friends. The plan had been to create allies before fully presenting her to society. Once people had an opportunity to meet Amelia and discern her true character, any remaining gossip among the ton would die a quick death. So far, the plan had been successful.

  This ball was to be her formal debut.

  Anthony sat across from her in the carriage, his long legs stretched out, his fingers drumming his thigh, and studied her profile as she gazed out the window at the crowds of people in attendance. He felt a heightened sense of anticipation, like what he had felt on the eve of a battle.

  Their carriage finally reached the carpet, laid to protect the ladies’ expensive gowns from the dirt of the street, and a groom opened the door. Anthony exited first and handed Amelia down after, then offered her his arm.

  He could feel her hand trembling, and while her expression was smooth, her face was pale. What would he have said to his men at the beginning of battle that would be appropriate here? “Take heart, Amelia,” he murmured inanely as they joined the crush waiting to be welcomed by their host and hostess. It was better than nothing, he supposed. He suspected his words were directed as much at himself as at her anyway.

  His blood was high, his mind alert as they finally reached the Duke and Duchess of Atherton.

  “Lord Halford, well met!” the duke said, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. He was a tall, vibrant man with a wide smile and shrewd eyes, his vivid red hair nearly completely faded to silver since Anthony had seen him last. “Your parents and Lord and Lady Farleigh have already arrived. So reassuring to see Ashworth for myself and know he is on the mend.”

  “Indeed, Your Grace,” Anthony said. “Duchess,” he said and bent over her hand. The Duchess of Atherton, by contrast, was short and plump, but her twinkling hazel eyes missed nothing. The duke had frequently referred to her as the general, so clever she was in all things, whether it came to running her household or offering astute opinions on politics. “May I present my fiancée, Miss Amelia Clarke?”

  “You may. How do you do, Miss Clarke?” the Duke of Atherton said. His demeanor was not quite so open with her as it had been with Anthony, but he had allowed the introduction, which was a first step toward her acceptance among the others in attendance.

  Amelia curtsied. “I am well, Your Grace, thank you,” Amelia said, looking every bit the aristocratic lady, Anthony observed with pride.

  “Miss Clarke, so it is you who has captured our Halford’s interest,” the duchess said. “I must say, after seeing you, I can understand why.”

  Amelia’s cheeks bloomed at the comment, and Anthony wondered if the duchess was offering a general compliment or alluding to the original tête-à-tête that had resulted in their forced betrothal. He shot the Duchess of Atherton a look, which she blandly ignored.

  “You give me too much credit,” Amelia said with complete graciousness. “But I thank you for your generous words.”

  The duchess’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and Anthony detected reluctant admiration on her face. “I understand a bit more of what Halford saw in you. Welcome, Miss Clarke,” the duchess said.

  Anthony led Amelia away from the Athertons. “Well done,” he whispered as they entered the ballroom. He watched Amelia swallow, and while momentarily captivated by the movement of her throat, he understood she had been more nervous than he had realized. It was time to gather the troops in support. “What do you say we go find my family now?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I think that is a good idea.”

  “And then afterward I intend to dance with my fiancée,” he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

  She nodded, and Anthony gazed over the crowded ballroom, searching for his parents. The Atherton ballroom was large and opulent, its chandeliers blazing from the high ceilings, their sparkling crystals shooting rainbows of color over the dancers. Huge bouquets of flowers in all hues were set near gold-leafed pillars, adding their pungent scents to the array of perfumes—and less pleasant human smells—that were to be found in any ballroom.

  The bank of french doors on the far side of the room was opened to allow cool evening air to enter and give guests an alternative to the crush, if they so chose.

  Anthony eventually spotted his parents near the door leading to the cardroom. His father would spend most of his time there, where he could sit and converse with his peers in a friendly game of whist or loo for an hour or so, until he was ready to return home.

  “Come,” he said to Amelia and, securing her hand in the crook of his arm, began to make his way through the ballroom in that direction. Reaching them took longer than Anthony anticipated, however, as he was stopped several times and welcomed home and congratulated for his war efforts.

  Amelia remained quietly poised throughout, enduring a few polite jabs aimed at him and their soon-to-be marital status.

  “Caught in the parson’s mousetrap, eh?” one gentleman asked with a wink.

  “Thought after so many years in the army, you would have learned how to defend yourself by now, Halford—though I can see how a surrender may have been the order of the day,” another said with a look of appraisal at Amelia that was more appreciative than Anthony liked.

  In fact, Anthony found himself feeling more and more on edge. The sheer number of people, the din of conversation, the heavy scents of perfume and perspiration were beginning to feel claustrophobic. And as they worked their way through the numerous guests, Anthony felt like he was pushing through the crowded alleys of Badajoz all over again.

  He took a gulp of air, fighting back panic and nausea. He had been feeling so much better, nearly human again the past couple weeks, especially on the peaceful evenings when Amelia played the pianoforte for him, that he had not anticipated having this reaction tonight.

  “Tony!”

  Anthony turned his head in the direction of the voice calling his name and saw Sir Richard Egan skirting around a small group of matrons that included Lady Putnam and her two daughters. Behind him were Hugh Wallingham and Phillip Osbourne. They were all on their way to greet Amelia and him.

  Anthony couldn’t avoid the shudder that ran through him at the sight of Lady Putnam and Harriet and Charlotte. But of course they would come to London. Something else he should have anticipated, no doubt.

  “Good to see you again, old man,” Sir Richard said, shaking Anthony’s outstretched hand. “I must apologize for poor Freddie and what he said the other day. He got another earful after you and Lucas left, you can be sure.”


  “And rightly so,” Hugh chimed in. “Old Fred can be a bit bacon-brained, but he is a good sort of chap and means well.”

  “Hello again, Miss Clarke,” Phillip Osbourne said, offering her a bow. “You look utterly magnificent this evening.”

  “Indeed,” Sir Richard echoed. “Do introduce us to the young lady, Tony.”

  “Gentlemen, my fiancée, Miss Amelia Clarke,” Anthony said, feeling proud and fairly possessive. “Amelia, may I present these rogues, Sir Richard Egan and Hugh Wallingham. You remember Phillip, of course.”

  “Enchanted, Miss Clarke, to say the least,” Hugh said.

  “At your service, Miss Clarke,” Sir Richard said with a deep bow. “I cannot imagine what you see in old Tony here.”

  “Oh, he has a few qualities hidden beneath that scowling countenance of his.” She glanced up at him with amusement in her eyes.

  “Very few, I should think,” Sir Richard teased.

  Was he scowling? Anthony thought to himself. Probably. “Who would not scowl with these ne’er-do-wells hovering around my betrothed like a pack of slavering wolves?” he said.

  “I say, Tony, that is harsh!” Hugh exclaimed, grinning.

  Amelia bit her lip to keep from laughing, and the sight of it lightened Anthony’s mood.

  “I would be honored, Miss Clarke, if you would dance with me,” Hugh said, eyeing Anthony carefully. “After your protective fiancé dances with you first, of course.”

  “I would be delighted,” Amelia said.

  “But not yet,” Anthony interjected smoothly. “If you will excuse us, I can see my mother attempting to get our attention. Later, gentlemen.”

  In fact, his mother looked worried when he and Amelia reached her side. “I am not sure what to make of this,” she said in a low voice so others would not hear. “Perhaps it will amount to nothing.”

  “What is it, Mother?” Anthony asked.

  “I overheard someone say that the Duchess of Marwood and Lady Elizabeth have arrived, and the duke will be joining them here later. Anthony, I did not even know they had come to Town! Had I known they would be here at the ball tonight, I would have sent our regrets to the Athertons.”

  Anthony had known they were in London, of course; Lady Elizabeth had spoken to them at the theater, but they had managed to avoid the Marwoods from then on. “There is nothing to worry about, Mother. Certainly the duke will not wish to make a scene, and Lady Elizabeth and I are in complete accord over the matter.”

  “I do hope you are right,” she said. “It would be dreadful if everything were to get stirred up again when the worst of it was just beginning to blow over. Oh, my dear,” she said to Amelia. “This is supposed to be a happy night for you.”

  “I am certain everything will be fine,” Amelia said, a reassuring smile on her face, though Anthony wasn’t sure she was as confident as either of them claimed to be. “I am inclined to agree with Anthony regarding the Duke of Marwood.”

  “It is strange that Marwood was so determined to see Lady Elizabeth and I married,” Anthony said. Perhaps it would be wise to have Abbott look into it. “But for now, Mother, we will not court disaster. I suggest you find Louisa and Farleigh and enjoy yourself. I intend to dance with Amelia.”

  “Very well,” his mother said. “And you are right, of course, on all counts.” She attempted a smile and then turned toward Amelia. “You look utterly stunning tonight, my dear. You fairly glow.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” Amelia’s lips curved into such a sweet smile at the compliment that Anthony wanted desperately to kiss them. He would find an opportunity later in the evening to accomplish that particular goal.

  When his mother left, he escorted Amelia onto the floor. The next dance turned out to be a waltz. As they twirled amongst the other dancers under the bright chandeliers, Anthony was filled with a sense of well-being and happiness, Marwood forgotten for the moment. Amelia fit perfectly in his arms, her lovely face was turned up to meet his, and he allowed himself to sink contentedly into the depths of her deep-green eyes.

  Too soon the waltz ended, however, and Anthony reluctantly parted from her. “If we are to be completely proper,” he said. “I may only dance one more time with you this evening. I would like that to be the supper dance, if you will permit me.”

  “If I am allowed to dance with you only once more, then I hope you will instruct the orchestra to choose the longest piece of music they have,” she said.

  “Brilliant idea,” he answered, full of joy and hope. He had never expected to find any peace again, but it might actually be possible; he might be able to experience a life of happiness with Amelia. For with her in his arms, the oppression he had felt from the crowds dissipated.

  They strolled over to rejoin Anthony’s friends, but before they reached them, Kit arrived at their side, accompanied by Lady Elizabeth.

  “Miss Clarke, how splendid you look this evening,” Kit said, sending a speaking glance to Anthony after smiling and bowing over Amelia’s hand. “Perhaps I can persuade you to take a turn on the dance floor with me?”

  Amelia politely agreed, and soon they were engaged in a country dance while Lady Elizabeth remained at Anthony’s side. “May we walk, Lord Halford?” she murmured so the other gentlemen present could not hear.

  “Certainly,” Anthony said and extended his arm to her.

  They strolled around the perimeter of the ballroom toward the french doors, at Lady Elizabeth’s suggestion, nodding to acquaintances as they went. Anthony noticed several pairs of curious eyes and a few looks of disdain.

  Once outside, he led Lady Elizabeth away from the others who had come outside for fresh air.

  “I must warn you,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “What is going on?” Anthony said.

  “I am dreadfully sorry, Lord Halford. I don’t know what more to do. I cannot get him to see reason, and Mama refuses to listen to me as well. Something is terribly wrong. Father has not been at all the same since the dance at Ashworth Park—he is rarely at home, and when he is, he is angry and . . . pardon me, but to speak bluntly, he is usually quite foxed. He barely says two words to me, and Mama even scolded me after our stay at Ashworth Park.” Her eyes were huge and glistened with tears.

  Anthony hated to see her in pain like this. “What in blazes is going on?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, “except that our decision not to marry seems to have been the final straw.”

  “That makes no sense. I am beyond confident you will have no trouble attracting other suitors, scores of them. I do not understand why your parents refuse to accept our decision and are putting you through this.”

  “Neither do I; I wish I did. Regardless of that, there is a specific reason I am speaking to you about this tonight. You see, my father believes Amelia is the primary cause of all this.”

  A sense of cold foreboding congealed in Anthony’s stomach at her words. He would not allow the Duke of Marwood, or anyone else, to harm Amelia.

  “Do not trust in my father’s ability to be rational right now, Lord Halford. He is truly not his normal self. I fear for him. I only hope that when he arrives at the ball, he will content himself with disappearing into the cardroom and into his cups. Perhaps if he does, I will be able to convince Mama to help me take him home. Stay away from him if you can, for Amelia’s sake.”

  “Thank you for the warning, Lady Elizabeth.” He checked the scene in the ballroom through the french doors. “The current dance appears to be drawing to an end, and I suspect Kit and Amelia will be looking for us. It would seem you have an eligible suitor already.”

  “Lord Cantwell is very charming, but I think his only intentions are to enjoy himself tonight and return Miss Clarke to you,” she said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am going in search of my mother. I suspect she may be complicit with my father in undermining Amelia. I
intend to do what I can to minimize any effect her words may have on others.”

  Anthony took her by the hand before she could leave and raised it to his lips. “Thank you again, Lady Elizabeth. For you to take such a stand against your parents shows courage, and I shall forever be in your debt.”

  “I only pray all will be well, Lord Halford,” she said.

  * * *

  The country dance concluded, and Amelia curtsied to her partner. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Cantwell,” she said.

  He bowed in reply. “The pleasure was mine, and my name is Christopher, though that is as a big a mouthful as Cantwell is. My friends call me Kit, and as I hope we may be friends, I would like you to call me Kit also.”

  “Kit, then,” she replied. “And, please, call me Amelia.”

  He was a lovely dancer, but Amelia had had a difficult time concentrating on her steps, finding herself watching Anthony and Elizabeth and wondering what their serious conversation was about.

  As she and Kit headed across the floor to meet them, Kit held her back briefly.

  “Amelia, I must tell you something,” he said, slowing their pace to a stroll. “Lady Elizabeth is informing Tony that her father blames you for the failed betrothal between them, and he is in a frame of mind to create trouble over it.”

  “Oh no,” Amelia said, her heart sinking. “Perhaps I should leave. My presence will only make matters worse.”

  “I am truly sorry to be the bearer of such distressing news. When Lady Elizabeth asked for my help, we decided the best thing was to speak to you individually, which seemed the most discreet way to let you both know. To tell everyone at once might have caused too obvious a reaction.”

  “Thank you for that.” Oh, she was a burden to Anthony! He needed to be done with conflict, but here again was more of it. Why could the Duke of Marwood not accept the decision Anthony and Lady Elizabeth had made?

  Kit gently led her to a chair in a small alcove, away from the crowd. “Would you care for a drink?” he asked her, looking concerned. “Lemonade perhaps?”