A Lady of Esteem (12 page)

The three men continued to hold up the ballroom wall, glaring with varying degrees of efficiency at anyone who approached them. Their vantage point from behind the refreshment table gave them an unobstructed view of a large grouping of people, Lady Helena among them.

A nearby servant held a tray of champagne. As Lady Helena passed, the servant tread upon the hem of her ball gown, effectively tripping her. She reached for the arm of a nearby admirer only to find he had turned away to answer another servant’s offer of a puffed pastry. With nothing to stop her forward momentum, Lady Helena fell face-first into the punch bowl.

Trent slowly stood up from the wall. “It would appear I was wrong.”

“About what?” Griffith and Anthony asked in unison.

Trent shook his head as if to bring himself out of a trance. “Amelia once told me that servant gossip is worse than
ton
gossip because they
know
. They know everything.”

“And the servants love our Amelia,” Anthony said quietly. He watched as Lady Helena accepted condolences amongst an assortment of poorly hidden laughter.

Then he cursed.

Griffith blinked.

Anthony grimaced. “Apologies. Old habits and all that.”

“What do we do now?” Trent asked.

Anthony rubbed a gloved hand over his face. He could think of multiple ways to find vengeance, but none he’d be willing to stand before God and admit. What did they do now? That was a good question.

“You should have made her stay home,” Anthony grumbled. He, Trent, and Griffith were once more holding up a ballroom wall, trying to decide what to do about the constant tongue wagging. The rumors had moved from truth to ridiculous with no end in sight.

Griffith groaned. “I would hate to see the state of my house if I had a displeased Amelia under my roof. The servants would revolt. No doubt I’d have gruel for dinner, holes in my shirts, and the most foul-smelling tallow candles they could find.”

“The footmen rearranged the chairs in the front drawing rooms so that she could sit and watch the people walk by.” Trent snickered.

The mental imagery made Anthony smile, but it didn’t lighten his mood. “You should have told her not to dance, then.”

Griffith and Trent followed Anthony’s gaze to the dance floor. “There are worse chaps than Mr. Bentley,” Trent said.

“Yes, but other chaps didn’t corner me earlier to see if I was finished dallying with Amelia yet.”

Griffith winced. “Perhaps I should cut in.”

Anthony shook his head. “I’ll go. You keep an eye on Lady Helena. I’m likely to hurt her if I stay here.”

“It is a dreadful mess, all this gossip.”

Amelia was already regretting accepting the dance with Mr. Oliver Bentley. It had seemed like a fine way to pass the time but now she wasn’t sure.

“Despite my low rank, I am quite plump in the pocket.”

The bizarre conversation had her longing for a discussion about the possibility of rain. Should she congratulate him on his financial prowess?

“With the scheme uncovered, they’ll soon have to let you go. I own a home on the edge of Piccadilly, very circumspect.”

The couples around them gasped.

She looked around and was stunned to see Anthony at the edge of the dance floor, fists clenched at his sides. What was he doing? He had been avoiding her all evening.

“Sir,” Amelia strained to appear calm even as her heart threatened to break her ribs, “I believe we’re delaying the dance.” She hated deliberately sounding empty-headed, but the alternative was to spit in this man’s face. Amelia wanted to still like herself tomorrow.

But the man continued, “He’s flaunted you too publicly to keep you if he wants to take a wife.”

The couples to either side of them stopped and stared, mouths agape. The hypocrisy sickened her. They themselves had likely been trashing her reputation earlier in the evening. Since they’d stopped moving, though, the whole dance had stumbled to a halt, leaving Amelia with nowhere to go.

“Well,” she said, looking at her dancing companions, “the dance appears to be over. Good-bye.”

Desperate to move, she started walking but had no idea where to go. Anthony appeared at her side and took her arm to escort her, not just off the dance floor, but clear out onto the terrace.

As soon as they were free of the ballroom, Amelia released Anthony’s arm to lean against the balustrade. “What an insufferable man.”

“I am sorry, Amelia,” Anthony whispered.

He looked so tortured. Had this gossip brought him such anguish, then? How was that possible? The man had single-handedly fed the gossip mill for years. “Anthony?”

“I should take you back in. All I wanted was to get you away, but out here—”

Amelia cut him off with a shake of her head. “In a moment. I think I need the air. And the space.”

He reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders.

Amelia looked down, a slight blush of pleasure on her cheeks.

Anthony gently forced her face up with a knuckle. “You are a wonderful woman. Pure and innocent and gentle and kind. Right now inside that ballroom people are saying hideous things and yet you smile. That man—” Anthony stopped for a moment to gather his composure.

“You would have been well within your rights to give him the cut direct, but you would have finished the dance. I can’t understand it. I want to destroy him and everyone else thinking poorly of you.

“But you . . . I’ve never seen a greater display of God’s love in action. I admire you more than I can say, and you deserve the very best man that the world has to offer.”

Amelia held her breath. She’d truly never expected to be a part of London society or have a family. Society could go jump in the Thames now that she’d found a family. Perfection would be if the man before her felt the same way about her.

His passionate speech gave her hope. This was it. He was going to reassure her that he loved her despite the hard times ahead.

“I am not the best man that the world has to offer.”

Amelia gasped and tears sprang to her eyes. He was supposed to want to protect her, to marry her and spirit her off to his country home. where the rumors couldn’t touch them.

“If I were a man like Griffith, well known for being upright and moral and all the things a gentleman should be, this tale would not carry the believability it does. It has brought to light for me that I am not the kind of man you deserve.”

Amelia’s breath rubbed her throat raw as it jerked in and out of her chest. She shook her head. Anthony’s grip tightened on her shoulders until she finally looked up into his face. The pain in his eyes cut her to the bone.

“If I leave you alone,” he whispered, “eventually the gossip will die down. With Griffith continuing to support you, you’ll find a man that deserves you.”

The first tear slid down her cheek. Amelia could do nothing to stop it. His eyes followed it as it fell to the stone. She struggled for words, for composure.

“I am not proud of who I’ve been, Amelia. I cannot bring that past into a life with you. I am sorry.”

“Your past means nothing to me!” The words felt ripped from her chest as he turned to walk away.

Anthony slowly faced her. “It is because of the person they knew me to be”—he jerked his arm, pointing back at the ballroom—“that they have come up with this story! It is my fault that you were so severely insulted just now.”

“You are no more responsible for what that man said than I am. You cannot take the blame for another’s actions.”

Anthony stared at her, unmoving, all the love she could ever want shining behind the hurt in his eyes. She had to make him understand. Then a shutter fell over his gaze. He was blocking her out.

Her hands reached for him, desperate to make him understand. “You have given your life to Jesus. There is no condemnation left for you to claim. I read that, in Romans. You are as pure as I am!”

She gripped his arms with all her strength. “I don’t care what you did before. Don’t you know that I have heard everything about you? It is not only my name being tossed about in there. That man they talk of is not the man I see in front of me.”

Anthony cupped her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. The shuttered look began to clear. Was he seeing the truth? Was she reaching him?

Without warning, he slid his hand to her neck and leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was fleeting, but she clung to the warm connection. She could taste her own tears on his lips.

Anthony ripped himself away, anguish stamped across his features once more. “I had no decent right to do that. Amelia, I’m so sorry.”

He took a step back. “You may not see that man, Amelia, but he still lurks somewhere inside of me. I shall see him in the mirror when I remember this moment.” He turned and fled down the stairs into the garden.

How could he walk away? Amelia stood on the terrace, arms wrapped around her body. She stood there while the tears dried, while the shock faded and anger took its place. If he didn’t feel anything for her, she could have accepted his rejection, would have welcomed it even. But using his past as an excuse was unacceptable.

Music drifted on the night air, reminding her of the swirl of people, ambitions, and lies. Why had she wanted that world?

“There you are!” Miranda rushed across the terrace and wrapped Amelia in a hug. She hauled her into a swath of light that shone from an upstairs window.

Her frown was dark, but not enough to make Amelia care how much the tears had ravaged her complexion.

“Come along.” Miranda hauled her through a side door and into the retiring room. “What happened?”

“He’s gone.” Amelia resisted the urge to cry again. “The details are of little consequence. Would it be possible for us to go home?”

“Everyone saw Anthony escort you from the floor. He has not made another appearance so you must.”

Miranda handed her a dampened cloth. “Wash your face before we return.”

Amelia wiped the crusty tear tracks from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Miranda’s silent support wrapped around her. If it came down to it, Amelia knew the other woman would risk her own reputation to stand by Amelia.

She deserved better. Griffith and Trent and Caroline deserved better. Even Mrs. Harris and Fenton deserved better, because who knew what the servants were making of the entire mess.

They didn’t try to hide as they entered the ballroom. The more people who saw Miranda and Amelia together, the better. Neither of them counted on one of those people being Lady Helena.

“Embracing your spinsterhood, Lady Miranda?”

Miranda tensed, her grip pinching the bones in Amelia’s hand. “I beg your pardon?”

Lady Helena turned her cold glower to Amelia. “Consider it a friendly suggestion from someone who spends a bit more time on the dance floor than you do. The company you keep is important.”

“Then I should leave before someone notices this exchange.”

Air hissed between Lady Helena’s teeth as she stared at Miranda. “Tread lightly, Lady Miranda, for I have the ear of many esteemed young ladies. Your brothers are still unwed? I’ve warned everyone I could about associating with this . . . well, her.” She wrinkled her nose in Amelia’s direction. “Perhaps I should warn them of the whole family’s character.”

Amelia couldn’t take it anymore. Anthony was lost to her. She would not lose her family as well.

Visions of the grim looks on Griffith’s and Trent’s faces when she’d crossed paths with them earlier prodded her onward. She stepped forward, giving Miranda’s hand a final squeeze before letting go.

“I do not think we have been properly introduced. Allow me to rectify that. I am Miss Amelia Stalwood, ward to the Duke of Riverton.”

Lady Helena scoffed. “I know who you are.”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose. “My apologies. I assumed you were under the impression that I was a woman of loose morals and wicked character.”

“As I said, I know who you are.”

By this point someone had noticed the confrontation, and a crowd began to gather around them. The opportunity to share the truth would not come again.
Lord,
help me protect my family.

A calm settled over Amelia. She prayed God would give her the right words. “You have my sympathies.”

Amelia blinked, surprised to discover the words were true. She did feel sorry for Lady Helena, who must feel desperate to go to these measures.

Lady Helena’s eyes narrowed. “It is not I who will never be able to show my face in London again. I have better sense than to flit about with such a man.”

“And yet you wanted to marry him.”

A ripple of laughter rolled through the otherwise silent crowd.