A Lady of Esteem (13 page)

“I wanted to be a marchioness.”

Those closest to the women gasped.

“Lady Helena.” Amelia’s voice was quiet, causing everyone in the immediate vicinity to lean forward. “I pity you.”

One would think Amelia had just spit on the other woman, the way the crowd drew back in shock.

“What did you say?” Lady Helena’s head tilted slightly to the side as she glared at her opponent.

“If this is all you have, I pity you. Your ploys may have hurt the man I love, but that is not all that I have. Even if you succeed in placing these ballrooms beyond my reach, you will never ruin my life. I do not give you that power.”

Amelia wasn’t sure what her goal had been in this confrontation, certainly not to enter a full-fledged battle of wills. But now that such a volatile cannon had been fired, Amelia could do nothing but wait and see if it would strike true or if a counterattack would be coming her way.

And then she didn’t care. She was done with Lady Helena, done kowtowing to the opinions of the
ton.

Turning her back on Lady Helena, she addressed the avid listeners. “I shall say this once for the benefit of you all. I have never behaved
with anyone—man, woman, child, aristocrat, gentry, or servant—in a way that would reflect poorly on my new family.”

Amelia stepped toward Lady Helena and lowered her voice, with little hope that what she said would not travel farther than its intended ears. The surrounding listeners were too attuned to the conversation. “Lady Helena, you are as unmarried as I am. For all your schemes and lies, you have yet to obtain your goal. Perhaps it is time to change tactics.”

Amelia turned on her heel. “Good evening to you all.”

With head held high, Amelia plowed into the crowd, hoping they would give way. They did. All the way to ballroom’s exit.

Once she left the room, noise erupted, nearly deafening even out in the hall. How could anyone hear what anyone else was saying? But then again, maybe they didn’t care. It seemed more important to be talking than to be heard.

As she put the ballroom behind her, Amelia felt as if she left her courage there as well. She was shaking by the time she made it to the front door.

Then they were there, all of them. Miranda, Griffith, and Trent, even Caroline and Lord Barnstoke wrapped their arms around her, whispering words of encouragement, acceptance, and even love.

They piled into their carriages, and even through the darkness caused by Anthony’s loss, Amelia saw a faint glimmer of hope about her future.

By the next afternoon, Amelia was convinced that everyone in London had lost their mind. From the moment the first matron arrived under the guise of checking after Amelia’s health—she had looked quite pale when she left the ball the night before—the drawing room at Hawthorne House saw a constant stream of visitors.

While Amelia had braced herself for a bit of sympathy and a handful of supporters, she never imagined the venomous slander against Lady Helena Bell.

“I have always said that girl would come to no good.”

“She set her cap for my son last year, and he made a narrow escape of it, he did.”

“Rest assured, she shall not be receiving an invitation to any of my gatherings. I have put it about to my friends that they should strike her off as well.”

“I blame her parents, I do. That is what comes of doting so on a child. They become spiteful and hateful.”

It was enough to make a girl ill.

The men, who began arriving at a more conventional time, were not any better.

“Lady Helena is all that is bland and lifeless next to your splendid coloring.”

“I’ve written an ode to your spirit and honesty. Would you like to go for a ride and hear it?”

“Will you marry me?”

Griffith had put a cease to the proposal by ushering Mr. Craymore to the door with a friendly but firm hand. “I do not believe that now is the appropriate time for that discussion. I shall let you know when it is an acceptable time to renew your suit.”

“Much obliged to you, Your Grace. I am sure you will be anxious to settle her off during her current peak of popularity.”

“Pompous man,” Caroline said when they heard the front door shut. “Gibson, we will have no more visitors today.”

Miranda pointed at Gibson. “Unless it is Anthony.” She flopped over the side arm of the sofa. The break in ladylike decorum testifying
to the exhausting drama that had played out among the tea cups in the drawing room.

“Anthony will not be visiting today, I can assure you,” Amelia whispered. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Caroline and Miranda both turned to her with looks of inquiry.

“I never sought to hurt her. I wanted . . . I wanted to set things right. This is wrong.”

Caroline picked up Amelia’s hand and rubbed it between her own. “My dear, in situations with the
ton
there must always be a villain. In every story someone must be the profligate. If you are innocent, then she must be guilty.”

“And she is.” Miranda shrugged at her mother’s exasperated look. “You earned everyone’s admiration last night. That forces Lady Helena to be the scoundrel for daring to hurt you.”

“How do I stop it?” Amelia smoothed her ribbons across her lap.

Caroline sighed. “Perhaps if Anthony were to return—”

“She declared her love in front of half of London.” Miranda punched a needlepoint pillow. “If he doesn’t return to her, he’s a fool.”

Griffith reentered the drawing room and sprawled himself in a wing chair, rubbing his forehead and temples. Amelia knew how he felt. She was trying to hold off a threatening headache herself.

“I wish to go away,” Amelia announced.

Griffith dropped his hands and opened his eyes but made no movement otherwise.

“If it is not possible for me to actually leave London, can we tell everyone that I did? I will remain in the house, and no one will be any wiser.”

Caroline began to protest, but Griffith held his hand up to stop her. “I have a house outside of London. We have been known to retire there for a breather in the midst of the season. With any luck Lady Helena will go into hiding as well. If neither of you is in Town, the
ton
will find something else to talk about.”

Anthony stared at the ceiling, not ready to get out of bed yet. His servants were probably still scrambling from his surprise arrival at his country estate the night before. They hadn’t expected him until well after the end of the season.

He rolled over and punched a pillow. “Why, God?” he groaned. Why would God bring Him so far and taunt him with something so precious? How could a loving God bring him to the brink of happiness and then snatch it all away?

The answer materialized, as if the Lord himself had spoken in Anthony’s ear.
I didn’t take it away
. You did.

Anthony jerked upright in bed, instinctively pulling the covers over his bare chest. Knowing God was always present was different than feeling like He was standing at the foot of the bed.

Then the import of the words sank in. God hadn’t taken Amelia away from him. Anthony’s own guilt and selfishness had tossed her aside. How could he be so foolish?

“Good morning, my lord.” The butler entered with fresh water, preparing to act as Anthony’s valet. Harper was probably twisted in knots because Anthony had left him behind.

“Have you ever done something so nonsensical that you were convinced you had mutton for brains?”

The butler froze, casting a look around to see if anyone else was in the room. Anthony laughed at how much Amelia had affected him. He hadn’t thought twice about conversing with the butler. The butler was apparently having second, third, and fourth thoughts about answering.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

Anthony swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I did something nonsensical. Did I really think I could save her by abandoning her?”

Chalmers cleared his throat. “Her, my lord?”

Anthony nodded. “I left her standing on that terrace like a coward. Planting Bentley a facer was a bit honorable, but I should have done it at the ball instead of outside his house.”

“Er, of course, my lord.”

“Why would I do something so cork-brained?” Anthony stabbed his arms into his dressing gown and began to pace as he tied the robe around his middle.

Moments passed. Chalmers looked as if he wanted to bolt, and Anthony couldn’t blame him. The butler must think his master had gone mad.

“If I may be so bold, sir, I think you might be looking at this the wrong way.”

Anthony gestured for the man to continue.

Chalmers cleared his throat. “It isn’t a mental question. There is no logical
why
. I don’t know what you’ve done, my lord, but it sounds as if it’s a matter of the heart, not the mind.”

Anthony nodded.

“Then focus on truth, not logic. Stop trying to figure out why and look for what is.”

Anthony stood in stunned silence. He had a very profound butler. When things settled down he was going to make it a point to have more discussions with the man.

“Logically,” Anthony began, pacing the room once more, “I would fall back into my old habits and ways, being the person they thought I was. The truth is that I’m changed.”

Chalmers yanked the bellpull and began selecting clothes from the dressing room, nodding that he was still listening to Anthony’s ramblings.

“There isn’t any sense to it, because it was the work of God, not myself.” Anthony strode to the window and looked across his land.

A jacket joined Chalmers clothing selections as he spoke quietly with the footman who’d answered the bell call.

“If God can accept me, then why can’t she?”

The voice hammered his ear once more.
She did.

“She did.” Anthony’s voice dropped as the truth became clear. He’d been too distraught at the ball to hear it when she voiced it, but his mind had stored it away until he was ready.

“There is no condemnation
left for you to claim.”

“I am forgiven,” he whispered.

He crossed the room and grabbed Chalmers by the shoulders. “I have been given a new life, and she is willing to join me in it. Only a fool leaves a woman like that alone, Chalmers.”

“Quite right, my lord.”

“I’ll need a fresh horse. The one I rode in on can’t return to London today. And clothes. I’ll need—” Anthony broke off as he noticed the riding breeches and jacket Chalmers had set out.

“The horse is being readied now, my lord.” Chalmers pulled out the razor. “Might I suggest a good breakfast before you leave?”

“Yes. Breakfast.” Anthony stood dumbfounded. Never had he realized how right Amelia was. People were people, no matter their
class. Some were kind, some were smart, and some were mean and petty.

He dressed quickly and when he left the dressing room found a breakfast tray laid out in his room.

Chalmers gathered the dirtied linens and prepared to leave.

“Chalmers,” Anthony called. “I have a project for you while I’m away.”

“Does she have a favorite color, my lord?”

“Color?”

“Yes, my lord. Does she have a favorite color? If you wish me to see to freshening the mistress’s chambers, it would be helpful to know her favorite colors.”

Amazing. How had Anthony managed to hire the smartest butler in the country? “Pink,” he said, remembering her delight over her first ball gown. “She likes pink.”

The house outside London was peaceful and cozy, though still large by Amelia’s standards. Most of the family seemed relieved to leave London behind. Even Trent had joined them on their exodus. Only Georgina seemed bitter about the move.

Where her attitude had been sullen before, she was positively churlish now. Even angry. Amelia had tried to talk to her, determined to do everything she could for this family that had taken her in, but the other girl would only glare and make snide comments.

In an effort to avoid Georgina’s anger and Miranda’s pity, Amelia tried to take a nap. An hour of staring at the ceiling left her restless. Despite the threat of rain she considered a walk in the garden. Maybe she could interest Trent in a game of piquet.

She strolled down the corridor, taking as much time as possible to get where she was going.

“Amelia! Amelia!”

Her head snapped up. That voice . . . Could it be? She ran for the stairs, heart tripping through her chest, trying to go faster than her feet could carry her. Was she dreaming?

She hit the top of the stairs and saw a figure striding across the front hall.

It was him.

He was more disheveled than she’d ever seen him, breathing hard, running his hands through his hair. Never had he looked more handsome.

She floated down the stairs with no recollection of her feet on the treads.

“Amelia,” he breathed as they met at the bottom of the stairs.

He took her in his arms, crushing her and freeing her at the same time. His lips skimmed her cheek as he whispered.

She couldn’t make out the words over the roar in her ears, but she knew what they meant. He loved her. He wanted her. He would risk everything for her.

His lips found hers and the warmth shot straight to her heart. She tasted salt. He was crying.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “I missed you.”

She smiled, tears of her own threatening to fall. “I missed you too.”

His laughter rang through the hall as he wrapped his arms around her and twirled her through the room. “What a fool I was to think I could walk away from you.”

Anthony set her back on the ground but didn’t let go. “I came from Hertfordshire. I rode all the way there the morning after I left you on the terrace and I had not been there a day when I realized what a cork-brained idiot I was. I went back to London and Gibson told me you were here. Amelia, I love you. And if a man is blessed enough to find a good woman to love, he does not turn his back on it. I suppose in all propriety I should ask Griffith but I am going to ask you first. Will you marry me?”

“No!”

Amelia turned toward the scream, stunned to find Georgina in the doorway to the parlor, shaking. “You cannot marry
her!
It was supposed to be me. Me!”

“Georgina?” Amelia asked softly. Her gaze swung back and forth between Georgina and Anthony, confusion muddling what few thoughts Anthony’s confession had left intact.

Anthony stood there, his mouth slightly open, clearly too shocked to say anything.

Georgina’s face contorted with anger. “For two years you have been coming to Riverside Manor, and every time you were there I did everything I could to show you I would make a wonderful marchioness. It was going perfectly until you told Griffith you were ready to take a wife. I begged Mother to let me come out. I begged her because I knew if you could just see me as a woman you would pick me.”

“Georgina, I . . .” Anthony stepped away from Amelia but still held her hand in his. His free hand began to reach for Georgina before falling back to his side.

“But they wouldn’t let me come out. So I tried to stop you. I told Lady Helena everything. She deserved to know what a mistake you were making, choosing
this
woman. Don’t you see how poor a marchioness she would be?” Georgina pointed an accusing finger at Amelia. The visual daggers caused Amelia to wince.

“I knew you would never marry Lady Helena. But you were supposed to abandon your plans to marry Griffith’s ward and wait until next year and then I would be there and you would choose me.”

“Georgina,” he said quietly. “I love Amelia.” He dropped Amelia’s hand to take another step toward Georgina.

But the young girl must have realized what she’d done, the secrets she’d revealed. She began to shake. Amelia felt pity welling up inside of her.

“Stay away from me! All of you!”

Amelia turned to find that Miranda, Caroline, Trent, and Griffith, and even Lord Barnstoke had all been drawn to the front hall by the commotion. Everyone looked uncomfortable with the confession.

Georgina spun on her heel and fled through the parlor and out into the gardens.

Anthony made to go after her but Caroline stopped him. “Let her go. Her pride has been hurt, and a young girl’s pride can be massive indeed. You can talk about it when she calms down.”

They retired to the parlor to await Georgina’s return. Unofficially engaged—Amelia had, after all, not gotten the chance to respond to the proposal—Anthony sat next to Amelia on the settee, holding her hand in his.

He shook his head. “I never knew. I thought she was just your scamp of a little sister. I never saw . . .”

“None of us did,” Griffith said.

Anthony gave him a wry smile. “Unfortunately, I have a bit more experience than you do. Looking back I can see several signs that I missed. I am truly sorry.”

Amelia leaned forward and took Anthony’s face in her hands. “You are very good at taking blame, thinking your past qualifies you to be at fault in every situation. Well, I will have you know that I short-sheeted my governess’s bed, placed beetles in the raisin pudding, and lied about anything and everything if I thought it would get my parents’ attention. That, sir, is as much of a sin as whatever you did. I sit here forgiven. It is about time you realized that you do too.”

Anthony looked into her eyes. Amelia didn’t know what he saw there, but it was enough to lift the dark gloom from his face.

“You’re right, my love. It is time to forgive myself.”

He reached out and smoothed the hair back from her face, leaned forward, and brushed his lips softly against hers.

Miranda sighed.

Griffith cleared his throat.

Caroline sputtered as she swallowed a laugh.

Trent cheered.

Amelia pulled back fanning ineffectively at her flaming cheeks.

Anthony dropped a kiss on her forehead and grinned rakishly.

“Well, I suppose you will have to marry her now,” Griffith muttered.

Eventually Caroline went after Georgina. The girl looked young as she joined them in the drawing room. Amelia’s offer to make her a bridesmaid caused her eyes to widen. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Amelia couldn’t fault Georgina for trying to create the best future possible for herself, even if her methods were more than a little questionable. A lifetime of watching people get things she thought she wanted made Amelia sympathetic to the young girl. Maybe it could be the start of a new relationship for them.

Amelia would ban her from the proceedings at the first hint of sabotage, though.

Anthony smoothed his thumb across Amelia’s knuckles. “I cannot wait until I can call you my wife.”

“You’ll have to wait until we return to London,” Georgina said. “Despite my lapse in judgment, I know how the beau monde works. If you don’t want this gossip following you forever, they need to see a happy courtship.”

Anthony groaned as Miranda and Caroline agreed with Georgina’s claim.

“You’ll forget the delay soon enough. We have forever, after all.” Amelia smoothed his hair back from his face, marveling at the realization that she now had the right to do that.

“Forever. If the way I feel right now is any indication, we shall live happily ever after.”

“At the very least, it will be blessedly ever after,” Amelia added. “For if God never grants me anything else in this life, He has given me you, and that is more than I ever dreamed of.”

Anthony kissed her gently, ignoring the groans from the rest of the room. “Blessedly ever after has a very nice ring to it.”

Keep reading for a special sample of
A
Noble Masquerade
by Kristi Ann Hunter.