by Tuft, Karen
“We are your family now,” Louisa said, her voice breaking. Farleigh placed a protective hand on Louisa’s shoulder.
Amelia gave them a smile filled with gratitude. “I make no claims on the connection to the Clarke-Hammond family, nor expect anything from them. My father and mother were content in their humble existence and thrived ministering to the needs of the good people of Little Brenchley in Kent.”
She turned to face Anthony. This would be the most difficult part. “As for the other item of which I stand accused, I will say only that I admire the Earl of Halford above all men, and it has been my greatest honor to have been—”
“No,” Anthony murmured, shaking his head.
“My greatest honor,” she repeated, her heart plummeting at what she must do, “to—”
“Do not say it, Amelia. I beg you,” Anthony said, grabbing her hands as she began to draw off her glove so she could remove the beautiful ring he had given her only that evening. “Do not let them win.”
She freed her hands and placed them on his cheeks, framing his handsome, intense face and memorizing every inch of it. “I fear it is no use, Anthony. The suspicion will always remain, and you do not deserve that after all you have had to endure.”
He placed his hands over hers. “How am I to endure going forward if you are not at my side?” Removing her hands from his face, he kept hold of them and turned to face the Duke of Marwood and Mr. Clarke-Hammond. “If she refuses to accept my suit because of your selfish and ill-conceived attacks to her reputation, I shall merit a form of justice on you both so virulent you will beg for death to end your misery.”
The entire ballroom was completely still.
“Mark my words, Halford,” the Duke of Marwood said. “I haven’t finished with this business yet.” He turned and stormed from the ballroom.
Anthony watched him go, a profound look of satisfaction on his face. “As to any remaining questions regarding Miss Clarke’s parentage,” he said, staring deeply into Amelia’s eyes before turning back to the crowd. “There is nothing more to say, except that you may all congratulate me on my nuptials, which I hope will be soon. You have witnessed my fiancée stand with dignity as two members of the nobility have publicly torn apart her reputation. Who would like to be the first to congratulate us?”
“I would,” the Duke of Atherton said, stepping forward. He and his duchess had been standing near Lady Ashworth, but now the crowd parted so the two of them could reach Anthony and Amelia. He shook Anthony’s hand heartily and kissed Amelia’s cheek as two burly footmen quietly escorted Mr. Clarke-Hammond from the ballroom. “Well done, both of you,” he said.
“You brought me to tears,” the duchess said. “What moving declarations! Such honesty and courage are to be greatly admired.”
The Marchioness of Ashworth was next. “Amelia, I could not be more proud! I shall be quite honored to have you for a daughter-in-law. You faced those gentlemen with such a noble bearing. Please say you will marry my son. We are all better for having you in our midst.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Amelia said, truly touched.
The marchioness waved a finger at her. “You are to call me Mama, if you feel you can. I should never presume to take your own mother’s place, but I would like it very much if you would consider me as another mother to you.”
“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” Amelia said, tears now welling in her eyes.
Anthony kissed his mother’s cheek. “God bless you, Mother,” he whispered.
A man cleared his throat then, and they all turned.
It was the Marquess of Ashworth. He looked tired, the lines bracketing his mouth deeper than they had been earlier in the day. Farleigh left Louisa to assist him if he needed it, but he was walking under his own power, every inch the nobleman.
“Father,” Anthony said.
“Halford,” he said in a cool, commanding voice.
The crowd of onlookers had not dispersed, undoubtedly eager to catch every last bit of the scene unfolding before them this evening, and everyone waited with bated breath to see what the Marquess of Ashworth had to say.
Father and son only stared silently at each other, and Amelia, for the life of her, could not figure out what was taking place between them. They were like two lions, testing each other’s right and ability to rule the pride.
After what felt like an eon to Amelia, her strength beginning to wane now that the conflict was largely over, the marquess turned his cool gaze in her direction. Aware that his were not the only eyes on her, she dropped into a respectful curtsy and rose, lifting her chin slightly, unwilling to be cowed after facing down the Duke of Marwood and her father’s estranged brother.
The Marquess of Ashworth reached out and brought her hand to his lips. “Miss Clarke, I will be honored and proud to call you Countess of Halford,” he said.
“Thank you, Lord Ashworth,” she said simply, deeply moved.
He nodded, satisfied. “I believe it is time to leave,” he said to his wife.
“I could not agree more,” she said.
“I shall call for the carriage,” Farleigh said and hurried off.
“I am quite put out at Marwood,” the Duchess of Atherton said to Anthony and Amelia as the crowd began to disperse, the excitement finally over. “If he wished to create a scandal, he only needed to arrive with his mistress in tow, the old bounder. I am so sorry, my dear.” She took Amelia’s hand in both her own. “But I must say, Miss Clarke, you were a sight to behold—a veritable Athena, such courage and grace you possessed through it all. My ball will be on everyone’s tongues for weeks.” She patted Amelia’s hand and then left to mingle with her guests.
Anthony and Amelia watched her leave.
“Did we just hear the Duchess of Atherton refer to the Duke of Marwood as an old bounder?” Anthony asked.
“I believe we did. I believe that wasn’t all she said about him either.”
“Hm. So I was not imagining it.” He offered Amelia his arm. “Shall we go?”
“Yes, please,” she said. “I have had my fill of balls for one evening. Perhaps for a lifetime.”
They made it nearly to the door when the Duke of Atherton stopped them. “Miss Clarke, you are a wonder,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor. “While I regret the discomfort the confrontation caused you both, I must say old Marwood has been asking for it for years. I confess I enjoyed seeing him brought down a peg or two. A pleasant evening to you both.”
When they were finally in Anthony’s carriage and alone, he sat next to her, pulling her close to his side rather than taking the seat across from her. “I have to say, I entirely agree with Atherton,” he murmured in a voice that sent chills through Amelia as he pulled off a glove and began to trace her jawline with his fingers.
“You mean, seeing the Duke of Marwood brought down a peg?” she whispered, her own hands itching to touch his handsome, beloved face.
“That too,” Anthony said. He replaced his fingers on her skin with his lips, and Amelia sighed with pleasure.
Trying to maintain composure and not lose her senses, she asked, “If not that, then what?” She honestly could not remember what the duke had said, so muddled were her thoughts right now with Anthony’s lips trailing down her throat.
“You truly are a wonder,” he said and moved his lips to barely an inch from her own. “And you are mine.”
And Amelia was lost.
Chapter 16
Anthony awoke the following morning, intent on finding out what he could that might shed illumination on the Duke of Marwood’s actions of the previous night.
“I heard about what happened,” Lucas said, lounging casually in a chair, his leg swinging from the arm as Anthony picked up his razor and began to scrape whiskers from his cheek.
“Would you care to elaborate?” he asked, glancing over at his friend.
“Watch what you are doing,” Lucas said. “I know from experience that blood is the very devil to get out of clothing.”
Anthony only growled at him and scraped off more beard.
Lucas laughed. “As to your question, you must realize what happened to you at the Atherton ball spread through London like a fire through St. Giles. It even made its way to the poor gentlemen’s club where I was playing cards. By the way, I have been looking over the London staff, and I believe there is at least one footman who might make a decent valet for you.”
Anthony stopped what he was doing. “You have decided to return home finally, have you? It is about time. I’m sure they are convinced you have disowned them.”
“Speaking of being disowned, how is Miss Clarke faring?”
“She had recovered quite well by the time I dropped her at Lady Walmsley’s house.” Quite well indeed. He smiled at the recollection. “I am eager to see her this afternoon and reassure her once again that whatever was said yesterday, it makes no difference to me.”
“It is as I thought,” Lucas said. “You are smitten. I can only presume you are dreaming of meadows and buttercups, which accounts for your improved sleep.” He sighed dramatically. “You have become a lovesick schoolboy before my very eyes. It would be terrifying, if not for the fact that I too have benefited from your restful nights.”
“Lovesick schoolboy, you say? Perhaps you are right. And perhaps you are finding yourself jealous over my happy state and, therefore, have decided to resort to ridicule.”
“Ha!” Lucas replied with mock indignation. “No parson’s mousetrap for me, my friend. While I am extraordinarily pleased for you, marriage is not in my plans.”
“Plans have been known to change, as we both know from experience. Now, fill me in on the top prospects for valet—but be quick about it. I am starving. Will you join me?”
“I have already eaten. I was not out as late as you were last evening.”
When Anthony finally entered the breakfast room, he found his parents still eating. After serving himself at the sideboard, he joined them at the table. “I appreciate you both standing with Amelia and me last night, especially in light of the revelations Mr. Clarke-Hammond shared so publicly.” He helped himself to a bite of eggs.
His father gestured at the footman standing by the sideboard, who immediately left the room so they could be alone. “Miss Clarke conducted herself admirably,” his father said as he sliced off a small bite of ham. “She demonstrated she is of superior character, despite the questions surrounding her birth. I also suspect those who were in attendance will be inclined to sympathize with her, which is to our benefit, since neither of you will be able to cry off after what happened.”
“Oh, Ashworth,” his mother said, setting her teacup down. “You talk as if you are planning a chess move rather than discussing our son’s life and as if you are not fond of Amelia when I know very well you are. When are you planning to marry her, Anthony? There are arrangements to be made.”
“As soon as possible; next week would be my preference. I have had a special license in my pocket for some time now.”
“I had forgotten you planned to do that,” his father said before taking a sip of tea.
“Next week?” his mother added in a faint voice. “So soon?”
“Yes, but I must discuss it with Amelia first. And while we are on the subject, I am curious about something. Why is it the Duke and Duchess of Marwood cannot seem to move on from Lady Elizabeth’s and my decision not to wed? Their actions were appalling, the duke’s especially concerning. I have seen men on the battlefield look as he did last night, as though they were driven to the edge of reason.” Anthony had witnessed it more than he cared to recall. “What is going on?”
“You do not know everything about the original betrothal, Anthony,” his mother said. “The marriage settlement your father and Marwood arranged between Alexander and Lady Elizabeth was a generous one, promising the duke a huge amount of capital, which your father was willing to provide at the time. Lady Elizabeth is a paragon and of the highest rank. There seemed no one better suited for the Earl of Halford.”
“Lady Elizabeth had many suitors,” his father added, “and Marwood hinted that only the best offer would secure her. Alex was partial enough to her, and so I made the appropriate arrangements. I cannot account for Marwood’s current behavior, however.”
“The whole thing is puzzling,” his mother answered. “The duchess and I came out together and have been friends ever since. And yet she was the one spreading the gossip all evening. I could hardly believe it.”
“Marwood put her up to it,” Anthony said, rising from the table. He intended to see what more he could find out on his own this afternoon. Once he had a better idea of Marwood’s state of affairs, he would know how to proceed.
“I hope you can convince my father to rest today,” he said to his mother, kissing her cheek. “I would hate to see the poor old fellow relapse after last night’s excitement.”
“Rubbish,” his father said. “I’m as fit as a fiddle now. In fact, I believe I will take in a few rounds of boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s and then spend the rest of the day at White’s.” He winked slyly at Anthony.
Lady Ashworth missed the wink, however, and stared at him, appalled. “Oh, no, you will not, you foolish man,” she said. “I will not have spent the last several months wringing my hands at your bedside only to have you kill yourself at the first available opportunity.”
Anthony bit his lip in order not to smile. His father was definitely on the mend. Anthony finished his breakfast and bid his parents good-bye, then rang for his horse to be saddled.
He had told Amelia he would join her for tea later in the afternoon. He wondered if he should send her a note urging her to stay home with Lady Walmsley but then decided against it. She would probably want to stay away from the public today anyway and let things settle a bit. Besides, she would most likely sleep late since the ball had gone into the wee hours of the morning.
He could imagine her waking, her rich, auburn hair a halo around her head, her green eyes fringed with dark lashes as they opened sleepily, her luscious lips turning upward to smile a welcome to him . . .
He wanted to wake up to that image every day of his life.
Bucephalus was saddled and waiting for him when he got outside, stamping and eager to be off. Anthony mounted him and set off for Swindlehurst’s office.
“Good afternoon, Lord Halford,” Marlowe said, looking up from the work on his desk. “Mr. Swindlehurst is with someone, but I shall tell him you are here.” He exited, leaving Anthony to pace. Putting Marwood in his place last night had been cathartic; for once Anthony had felt like he could do something about the wrongs inflicted on others—in this case, someone he loved. The ability to act had been freeing.
Eventually Swindlehurst’s visitor bowed his way out of the office, and Anthony was escorted inside.
“Please, be seated,” the solicitor said. “I heard about what happened last night. Astonishing, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Not at all. I quite agree.”
“I do hope Miss Clarke suffered no ill effects as a result.”
“She was the very epitome of strength and grace. And speaking of Miss Clarke, has Abbott any new information for me?”
“Not much,” Swindlehurst replied. “He had heard rumblings about her actual parentage, but he chose not to mention it until he had suitable evidence in hand to prove it. No need to raise such a delicate matter if it turned out to be untrue, he thought. He is on his way to Kent now. I hope to hear from him in a day or two.”
“It would seem Edmund Clarke-Hammond and his wife went to great lengths to hide the information.”
“True, my lord, but there will be those in the village who, if pressed, will remember the circumstances surrounding Miss Clarke’s birt
h. They may feel loyal to the vicar and not wish to share, or they may feel that since he is gone, it is all for the best. It remains to be seen.”
Anthony nodded his agreement. “I will be interested to hear what he discovers, although it will make no difference in the long run. As far as I am concerned, Amelia is the beloved daughter of Edmund and Sarah Clarke. Anything else is merely a curiosity.” He hesitated, then decided to ask one more question. “I wonder if, perhaps, you might know anything of Marwood’s situation. His behavior last night was extreme and leads one to speculate.”
Swindlehurst sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “As a matter of fact, Abbott did mention something this morning on that very subject. He was already looking into Marwood on another matter, financial I think he said, though he did not elaborate. I can find out more when he returns from Kent, if you like.”
“Thank you. The sooner I can get to the bottom of it and determine for myself that Amelia will not be subjected to more gossip, the better I will feel. Good day to you.”
“At your service, as always, my lord.”
Anthony rose and shook Swindlehurst’s hand and then proceeded on his way. He had other things he needed to do this afternoon before he met Amelia for tea.
* * *
Amelia slept until nearly noon, surprised when she awoke to discover just how late it was. She wondered at her ability to sleep at all. It was true she had returned home exhausted from the ordeal at the ball, but she also suspected her body had longed for sleep as a way of avoiding the realities of what she had learned.
Her parents were not her real parents. She had momentarily wondered at the way her name had compared to the others in the family Bible, but growing up? She had felt confident and secure as the beloved daughter of Edmund and Sarah Clarke.
Clarke-Hammond, she corrected herself with a shudder. Although she would never refer to her parents by that name, nor herself.
She rang for hot chocolate and toast, then hurried and washed herself.
