With a great deal of anxiety and even more heartache, the weekend finally came to an end. As Amy prepared for dinner at the home of Mr. Deverell, she considered for the hundredth time changing her mind and remaining at the school.
Since her sojourn into the village—and the terrible scene she had witnessed, Amy had gone to Mrs. Rutley twice, pleading that they cancel. And twice, her headmistress had given her a choice. Either she explained why she wished to withdraw her acceptance or attend the dinner.
Although Amy felt she could tell her headmistress anything, with this particular matter she could not. The image of the man she had believed to be the most upstanding man she ever knew offering money to one of those women plagued her thoughts. And right out there in the open, without so much as a thought to discretion! How could she possibly speak to anyone of such debauchery from the man she loved? Or of her own foolishness of falling for him in the first place?
She had thought Mr. Deverell was different. That he did not give into carnal urges like other men. How wrong she had been! How could she have been so blind to such a rogue?
Now, she wondered about these supposed house calls to various women. Had it all been a ploy? Was he covering up the fact that he was meeting these women for secret trysts? Or was he paying them, too?
Regardless, Amy now found herself in a dilemma, one that added to her reasons why she had yet to tell Mrs. Rutley about what she had seen. She was angry at Mr. Deverell, to be sure, but her love had not waned one whit. Well, perhaps a whit, but not much more. What did that say about her? Were her principles as twisted as his? Was she willing to put aside her moral standards to keep the man she loved?
Only nincompoops acted so rashly. If they were already married, and she had caught him soliciting a… a woman of loose morals, she would have to turn a blind eye. Now she had a chance to free herself from what would likely be a terrible marriage. So, why did she not simply run?
Because I’m a blunder-headed fool, that is why!
“Now, your gloves,” Antonia said, interrupting Amy from her thoughts.
“Thank you.” For a moment, Amy stared at the lovely gloves she had purchased only a few days earlier. She had been so excited to meet Mr. Deverell’s parents. Had wanted to make a good impression. Now, she could not have cared less what they thought of her.
“I know you don’t want to go,” Antonia said. “But if you stay here, you just might regret it. What if you miss out on something important?”
Amy sighed heavily. “Perhaps so. If anything, I’ll have the opportunity to break off our courtship.” She hugged her young friend. “We’ll speak when I return.”
Making her way downstairs, Amy met Mrs. Rutley in the foyer. Soon, they had donned their jackets and were in the carriage. The winter sun was nearly gone as the vehicle trundled down the drive.
“Amy, you know you can trust me with anything, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you tell me what is troubling you.” Mrs. Rutley took hold of Amy’s hand. “Please.”
Amy blinked back tears. “Perhaps later. For now, I just want to get past this dinner.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Mandrel House. A large brick, two-story building, it had remnants of ivy clinging to its brick facade. Amy had been there once with Mrs. Rutley. Now, however, a twinge of sadness overcame her, for she knew this would be her last visit.
A rather rotund butler greeted them at the door, and when they entered the foyer, Tobias stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Blast him! Why did he have to look so handsome?
“Good evening, Miss Felton. Mrs. Rutley. I’m so pleased you came. I trust the short journey here was without issue?”
Silence filled the air. Mrs. Rutley was likely waiting for Amy to respond, but her mind would not create any words.
“The roads were satisfactory,” her headmistress replied as she allowed the butler to remove her jacket and took her hat.
The sound of footsteps made her turn. Lord Deverell was a tall, thin man with silver in his dark hair. His jawline was strong, much like that of his son.
So, that is what Mr. Deverell will look like in twenty years, Amy thought. But what did it matter? She would no longer be an acquaintance of his by the time he reached that advanced age.
Lady Deverell was a stunningly beautiful woman. Not much taller than Amy, she had honey-blonde hair worked into the most magnificent coiffure. Her nose was slightly upturned, and she had twinkling blue eyes. When she greeted Amy and Mrs. Rutley, her smile sparkled.
“Tobias has told me so much about you,” his mother said. “You are lovely, my dear.”
Amy curtsied and willed her cheeks to cool. “Thank you.”
“Well, shall we share in a drink before dinner or head straight to the dining room?” Lord Deverell asked.
Mr. Deverell replied, “I believe we’re ready to sit, Father.” He offered an arm to Amy. “May I escort you?”
For a moment, Amy stared at that arm. Granted, he had not escorted that woman into the gaming hell, but that did not mean his arm was clean. But everyone was staring at her, so she accepted it anyway. Allowing him to lead her to the dining hall did not express agreeing to more.
The ornate table could seat eight. Mr. Deverell led Amy to a chair in the middle of the table. He took the seat on one side of her, and Mrs. Rutley took the other. Lord Deverell sat at the head of the table, and the baroness at the foot.
As a footman began to pour the wine, Lord Deverell spoke. “So, Miss Felton, I understand that your father is in the mining business.”
Tobias cleared his throat. “Father, I imagine Miss Felton would prefer not to speak of her father’s businesses. Perhaps you can speak to him about it.”
His father sighed and took a sip of his wine. Mr. Deverell gave Amy a wink.
Amy smiled before remembering that she was angry with him. His playful, innocent ways might trick a naive girl but not Amy. If Mr. Deverell thought he could conquer her heart only to fornicate with other women, he was greatly mistaken.
“Indeed, my father is involved with mining. But I recently overheard him discussing the possibility of purchasing several buildings to convert into inns. People are traveling much more these days and need places to stay after dark. Sleeping beneath carts might work for those without means, but more gentile people need a bed.”
Lord Deverell arched an eyebrow. “A wise man. I’ve also invested in several inns. Perhaps I shall discuss combining our resources as my son has suggested.”
Amy bit her lip. There would be no meeting between this man and her father. “I’m afraid Father prefers to work alone.”
This drew a frown from the baron. And a puzzled look from Mr. Deverell.
Mrs. Rutley tapped Amy’s leg beneath the table and said, “What Amy means is that her father likes to prove he can stand on his own two feet. But that doesn’t mean he’ll refuse offers for joint ventures. I’m sure he would be happy to meet with you, my lord.”
The soup course arrived, and the guests fell quiet as they ate. Twice, Amy peeked up at Mr. Deverell, who wore a worried expression. Waiting to speak to him about what she had seen was proving difficult. He had to know how deeply hurt she was. Yet as angry as she was, she could not bring up such a sordid topic at the dinner table.
Nor at any time, for that matter. A proper young lady did not discuss prostitutes with any man, more so one who held her heart. She would have to have a reason for breaking off their courtship, but she had yet to devise one.
Polite conversation began, and soon the main course was served. The roasted duck was tender, and the green beans buttery, but Amy tasted little of it. Lord Deverell had appropriated the conversation for two minutes straight, jumping from one topic to the next, and Amy struggled to keep up.
“Richard has to be the most business-minded young man I have ever known,” he was saying now, referring to Mr. Deverell’s older brother. “I doubt a father has ever been so proud.”
Amy glanced at Mr. Deverell and did not miss the look of sadness in his eyes. Perhaps she was too guileless, or maybe too gullible, but seeing how his father’s admiration for his heir hurt Mr. Deverell bothered her. Speaking on Mr. Deverell’s behalf would do no good. If anything, it would only make matters worse. So, she remained silent. But she wanted to give the baron a good tongue-lashing for his disregard for his younger son!
And what did it matter, anyway? Perhaps his father was aware of his obscene secrets.
Once the plates were cleared—Amy’s dish untouched, or nearly so—Amy wished to leave. She wanted to lie in bed and dream of what life could have been if Mr. Deverell could have controlled his urges. Then again, why should she punish herself for his misdeeds?
A chair scraped across the floor, and Amy looked up from her lap to see Mr. Deverell stand. “I’d like to make an announcement if I may. These past few months with Miss Felton have shown that a man knows when he has met the right woman. One who will remain at his side no matter what troubles they may encounter. One whose beauty is unmatched. No other woman in this world matches these criteria save one, Miss Amy Felton. And it is for those reasons that I would like to say that I plan to marry her. If she’ll have me.”
Excited whispers followed, and when the room fell silent, everyone looked at her expectantly.
After taking a nervous sip of her wine, Amy folded her hands in her lap. “And what of America?”
Mr. Deverell cleared his throat. “We’ll go once the children are grown. As I mentioned before, I must remain here and help my flock.”
Amy’s knuckles grew white as she clutched her hands tighter. “Perhaps you can dedicate your life to helping the Mary Magdalenes of the country,” she said in a near whisper. When she looked up at him, he appeared watery through her tears. “I’m sorry. I cannot accept.”
The look of devastation that crossed his features made her heart clench. She still loved him, but she could not accept a man who lived such a devious life.
Lord Deverell, however, was outraged. “What is this? The daughter of a simple man denies my blood? Explain yourself, young lady!”
“Enough, Leopold,” Lady Deverell said as she stood. “Come with me, my dear,” she said to Amy. “I believe we have a few things to discuss.”
Mr. Deverell stood. “Miss Felton, please tell me what is wrong, and I shall remedy it.”
Her heart ached at hearing the sadness in his voice. Yet Amy knew his taste for visiting prostitutes would likely never change.
With a quick glance at Mr. Deverell, Amy followed the baroness out of the dining room, down the short corridor, and into the parlor. A blue and green couch sat across from two leather chairs in front of a large fireplace. The rug also had touches of blue and green but of a darker shade.
“Now, tell me what is troubling you,” Lady Deverell said once they were seated on the couch.
Amy lowered her head. Telling a mother what she had witnessed would only hurt her.
“You know, it’s not that unusual for a young lady such as yourself to be frightened of getting married. I was, yet that fear quickly passed once I settled into my new life.”
“It’s not that,” Amy said.
“Well, I’ll certainly not interfere if that is what worries you. My mother-in-law was a beast of a woman. I would never make my daughters-in-law endure what I was forced to go through. You can even ask Valina, Richard’s wife. I trust my sons to choose a wife who will be best for them.”
“I’m sure you and Lord Deverell have a lovely family, my lady. But my reason for refusing has nothing to do with you but rather your son.” She drew in a deep breath. “What he has done… what I witnessed has troubled me greatly. And because I respect you as his mother, I’ll not share what I saw.”
“I see,” Lady Deverell replied with a small nod. She took hold of one of Amy’s hands. “Your words assure me that you’re a young lady of good standing. Too many in your place would use this opportunity to tear down another. If you don’t wish to tell me, so be it. I’ll speak to Tobias. Perhaps he will tell me what you don’t wish to say.”
Wiping away the tear that had escaped her eye, Amy said, “Thank you. And thank you for understanding.”
When they exited the room, Mr. Deverell and Mrs. Rutley were waiting in the corridor.
“I’ve already made our excuses,” Mrs. Rutley said. “I suspected you wished to leave as soon as possible.”
“I appreciate it, Mrs. Rutley.”
As the butler helped her into her jacket, Mr. Deverell said, “Why did you reject me? Tell me so I may fix it.” He shook his head. “Is this about going to America? Perhaps we can visit there in a few years. Would that please you?”
With a sigh, Amy looked up at him. She would miss that handsome face. “It’s many things,” she said. “But America is the least of them. Farewell, Mr. Deverell. I wish you the best.”
The butler opened the door, and Amy and Mrs. Rutley made their way to the waiting carriage. It was regrettable that Amy and Mr. Deverell would never marry, for he still held her heart. And the knowledge that her future entailed being wed to Mr. Hamlin only deepened her melancholy, intensifying the sorrow within her.