His Beautiful Wench (26 page)

Amelia sat in place until the moon vanished and the sun poked the tip of its head over the far-off horizon. A little later, the sun showed off its belly, raging bright in a clear blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. Dry-eyed, back aching, she bided her time.

Ah, there he was, just as she’d expected, cresting the rise, riding in a carriage down the dusty track to the right of the cottage. It trundled over the uneven ground, its black body swaying, the sunrays that burned her through the glass glancing off the carriage roof. The driver jostled from side to side and yanked on the reins.

She gripped the knife, just as she had done throughout the night.

The horses came to a stop directly outside the cottage and
he
stepped down onto the grass, straightening his jacket and tweaking his beard. He eyed the house with disdain—eyebrows knitted, a sneer on his lips—and walked with confidence up the gravel path. At the front door, he licked two fingers then smoothed the tips over his eyebrows, the action eliciting no emotion inside Amelia whatsoever.

She was as dead as a living person could be.

His rap on the door had her rising and she tightened her hold on the knife handle and descended the attic stairs. Matilda flew out of her room, no doubt from catching up on sleep, hair awry, hand clutching her nightgown at the neck, and they stared at one another. A second set of raps broke their connection and Matilda inched to the top of the stairs and crouched down.

“I see a man’s shape through the glass,” the madam said.

“You do.” Amelia paused, then, “You see Graham. He has come for me.”

“Oh God!” Matilda rose and moved to Amelia’s side. “We must get you into the basement!”

“What for? There is no point in fighting him now.”

“What?” Matilda’s eyes widened and two pink spots bloomed on her cheeks. “You’re talking nonsense. Quickly. We must hide you. Come on now.”

Amelia allowed the madam to guide her downstairs and as Matilda moved to tug her to the little hallway, she said, “I must open the door.”

Matilda spun around, her fingers tight on Amelia’s wrist. “Stop this nonsense!” she whispered. “Come with me. Now!” Tight-lipped, her brow creased, Matilda was clearly determined to make Amelia obey.

Slowly, Amelia peeled Matilda’s fingers free and walked to the front door. “You’ll see I’m right once this door is open.” She turned the key then grasped the knob.

Matilda gasped. “No! Stop! Please don’t!”

With a sad smile, Amelia presented her back to Matilda and swung the door wide.

Lord Graham stood on the threshold, hands clasped, a sly, fixed grin amid his facial hair. His eyes twinkled as he assessed Amelia and he cleared his throat. “I have come with sad tidings. Emmett met with an…
accident
while at sea. News came to me early this morning and I took the liberty of calling to offer my condolences. He will never return.”

Matilda’s gasp sounded far away, Amelia’s ears were buzzing. Amelia nodded and kept the knife secreted in her skirt folds.

Graham continued. “I would like you to collect your belongings and come back to my castle, where I will look after you during your time of mourning. This place,” he rolled his eyes, “isn’t suitable.”

Matilda’s sobs penetrated the buzzing and Amelia offered a tight smile. “Perhaps you could come back in a few hours. I promise you I will be here upon your return.”

A coarse, sharp bark flew from Graham’s lips and he fondled his beard. “Oh my dear. I am far from being a man who can be tricked by a female’s duplicity. I am quite happy to wait in my carriage.”

He bowed and walked to the end of the path. He raised an arm and clicked his fingers. The carriage door opened and Helena climbed down, her face ashen, her gaze riveted on the ground.

“Helena, please aid Miss Jacobs in gathering her things.”

Helena nodded and, chin to chest, came up the path. She lifted her head at the doorstep and met Amelia’s gaze. “I’m so terribly sorry,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

Again Amelia smiled and stepped back, allowing Helena to enter. She closed the door and Helena stood beside Matilda, who grasped their visitor’s hand, her stricken features telling of her sorrow.

“If you would just give me a moment,” Amelia said and, as though floating, walked down the hallway, through the kitchen, and down into the basement.

She placed the knife on the bed and lit a lamp. Lifting the cloak from the bed, she slipped her fingers inside the pocket. The cold, smooth surface of the jewels chilled her skin and she drew them out and studied them. Two large rubies and two smaller emeralds caught the light from the lamp. They appeared to shimmer and warm in her palm and a sense of goodness pervaded Amelia. Draping the cloak over her arm, she kneeled on the bed and gripped the quilt, bringing it to her nose. She inhaled deeply and smiled, then, with one last glance around the basement, dug her hand back into the cloak pocket and took out Emmett’s handkerchief. For the first time since those awful pains had racked her, tears stung her eyes—for what once was and for what was to come.

Back straight, she picked up the knife and placed it inside her neckline. After climbing the basement stairs, she paused in the linens room doorway upon hearing Matilda’s and Helena’s whispers.

“You cannot let her go with him,” Helena said. “He has plans to marry her. She will be so terribly unhappy. I despise him and she will live a life of hell. How can I be happy with my freedom knowing she has taken my place? Please. Please find some way to stop this!”

“I need to think,” Matilda said. “When she goes up to collect her things, I’ll take a moment to work something out, though at this moment I have no idea what we should do.” She paused, cocking her head. “Shh! I think she’s coming.”

Amelia’s throat tightened at her friends’ words and she came through the doorway into the parlor. Matilda and Helena stood where she had left them and Amelia glanced at the front door, the carriage’s black shadow looming on the other side.

Taking the cloak from her arm, she held it out to Helena. “Thank you for the loan of your cloak. I’ll never forget what you have done.” She looked at Matilda. “Nor will I forget your immense kindness. Please know that I appreciate you both and,” she held up her hand and opened her fist, “Emmett appreciated you too. Please, take one of each.”

The women’s eyes widened, filled with tears, and gooseflesh peppered Amelia’s skin, as though a tangible thing was telling her she followed fate’s path—the correct path.

“Goodness,” Matilda said. “You are pure goodness, my dear friend, but you must take these yourself. Get away and start a new life.”

“There is no life without Emmett,” Amelia said, raising her hand farther. “Please, have them.” She pressed a ruby and emerald into Matilda’s palm and closed the woman’s fingers around them. “Thank you.” Turning to face Helena, who had put herself in danger for her, a stranger, she handed over the remaining jewels then clutched the handkerchief in hands she raised to her chest. “Helena, take them and run,” she said. “That’s all I ask of you now.” With a deep breath, she pasted on a smile and, tears threatening, gripped the newel post. “If you would…if you would be so kind as to wait here for a moment. I must speak with the lord before I go up and get my things.”

The sun warmed her as she stepped out onto the path and stuffed the handkerchief between her breasts, the stab of gravel hard beneath her bare feet. The grass eased the pain and she padded to the carriage, nodding to the driver. The door opened and she climbed inside, taking a seat beside the lord.

He eyed her up and down, tongue dashing out to lick his thick lips, and said, “I cannot wait to get you out of that unsightly dress.”

Amelia smiled and leaned toward him, her mouth close to his, beard tickling her chin. “I have yet to gather my belongings. I wanted to speak with you first.” She moved closer.

Graham rested his head against the seat, a lazy, triumphant smile spreading his lips until his teeth showed. Amelia straddled him and his eyes widened in his surprise then closed, as though he savored his victory. She slid her hand inside her neckline, fingers seeking out the knife handle, and withdrew the weapon.

Pressing herself to the bulge in his breeches, she whispered, “I have wanted to do this for such a long time.”

The lord released a breathy “Ah!” and raised his hips in the same instant Amelia whipped the blade across his throat. A splash of wet heat warmed her face and she relished the copper stench of it. She climbed off him and calmly sat on the opposite seat, hand steady, her mind focused. His eyes snapped open and he stared at her, mouth working, garbled sounds emerging. Blood oozed from an opening that widened as Graham lifted his hand to it, his touch ineffectual in stopping the crimson tide. A gargling noise echoed around the small space, and his hand dropped to the seat beside him. He convulsed, his back arching, then flopped back down again, sitting as he had before. Amelia stood and placed the knife in his hand, the curve of his clawed fingers an ideal resting place. She looked at his unseeing, wicked eyes, at the blood marring his once-pristine white shirt, then opened the carriage door.

Outside, her back to the driver, she said, “The lord said he will take a nap while he waits.”

“Aye, missus,” he said. “Fancy I might join him.”

“No. No, you mustn’t disturb him. Just wait five minutes then come inside. You can wait with Helena. Matilda will make you some tea.”

“Oh! Very kind of you, missus!”

Amelia shuffled across the grass and up the path, pushing the door open with her murderer’s hand. At the bottom of the stairs, she looked to her right. Matilda and Helena sat clutching one another’s hands on the settee.

“Your face!” Matilda said. “Is that blood?” One hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you. The lord’s driver will be in shortly. Perhaps you could make him some refreshment while he waits? It’s unfair to expect him to sit out there.” She smiled. “My friends, I am going on a journey, and be pleased at where I’m going, because I can’t wait to get there. If you don’t mind, please just give me an hour to gather my things, my thoughts, then…then you can come for me.” She smiled, took in their dear faces and prayed that life would treat these women fairly and without malice. “I…I love you both.”

She mounted the stairs, her tread lighter than ever, her spirit sensing freedom. At the top, she turned left and made for Jessica’s room. She eased the door open and stepped inside. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the curtains and she drew one aside to enable her to see better. Instinct took her to the bedside cabinet and she opened the small door below a drawer and kneeled before it. There, at the back, that’s what she sought—a clear glass bottle. She reached inside and took it out, holding it up to check the contents. Full.

Standing, she closed the cabinet and left the room, her steps to the attic swift. She heard the creak of the first step for the last time and smiled, quickening her speed. At the window, she sat on the sill, bottle in hand, and stared at the ocean, wondering briefly how Emmett had been killed.

Please, God, let it have been painless.

She shoved the thoughts from her mind and sat for long moments, her eyes unfocused, until the driver jumped down from his perch and approached the house. At the sound of the front door closing, Amelia stood and climbed into bed, the site of so many happy and sad times. She slipped her hand inside her neckline and took out the handkerchief, pressing it to her nose, the beautiful scent of Emmett Dray filling her nostrils. A smile tweaked her lips and tears stung her eyes. With calm deliberation, she pulled the stopper from the bottle and lifted her head, lips to the opening. The liquid dribbled into her mouth and she swallowed, letting more spill onto her tongue until the bottle emptied.

Amelia dropped the bottle to the bed and clutched the handkerchief to her breast. Bittersweet memories floated through her mind as the liquid worked its magic, the start of her new journey a weighting of limbs and a clearing of the mind. She closed her eyes, body pliant, and the memories flooded her. The first time she had seen Emmett. The first and every time they had made love. The feel of his skin on hers, his lips on her mouth. His words, promises and whispers of devotion.

Sleep’s arms embraced her, the enchantment of its caress a wonderful cocoon, and she gave in to its lull. Before it fully claimed her, she gripped the handkerchief tighter and whispered, “I love you, Emmett Dray. Come find me.”

Chapter Ten

Amelia’s mind alert, she kept her eyes closed, clinging to the last vestiges of the dream. Her heart ached, throbbed so hard her chest hurt, and a rising tide of sobs constricted her throat. She sniffed and brought her hand up to run a finger under her nose. Fabric whispered across her top lip. She snapped her eyes open and sat up, staring down at her hand. The white handkerchief rested in her palm, a crumpled ball, and she gasped. How long had she been asleep this time? The dream had spanned days, yet surely she hadn’t been out for that long? How the hell did things keep appearing from her dream?

Body heavy, the skin on her face tight, she stood and shuffled to the window, the wench dress rustling against her legs. Fatigue still plagued her and she rolled her shoulders, studying the ocean. Daylight brought the view into stark relief and she recalled sitting here and looking out only minutes ago at a carriage holding the body of a man she’d killed.