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Amelia stayed abed the next morning until she knew she was nearly in danger of missing breakfast. While it would always behoove her to miss a meal or two, she could not tolerate an empty stomach so early in the day.
Her maid helped her dress in a petal green striped muslin gown and she glanced at the mantel. Half past ten. Someone as serious as James had probably been up for hours now and he no doubt would be long gone from the breakfast room.
As she made her way downstairs, she reflected on her obnoxious behavior of the night before. She’d never meant to be so rude to James, but his surprise return had thoroughly disconcerted her, sparking an anger she’d long ago locked away, and his sympathy regarding her father’s death had not helped matters. Every other family member knew better than to broach that subject with her. She had buried all memories of her father—and James—in a deep recess of her mind and never thought about either of them. Still, she hoped she would hold up better today, though she hadn’t slept well. She was no longer an immature girl of eighteen. It was time her behavior reflected that fact.
After filling her plate in the empty breakfast room and murmuring a thank-you to the footman who held her chair, she delved into her toast, eggs and ham. Then, though a certain black-haired, blue-eyed face intruded on her thoughts like a child seeking attention, she firmly steered her musings to the upcoming wedding.
Before yesterday she’d been full of anticipation and eager to discuss every detail. Now...now she wanted the thing over and done with. It was time to get on with her life.
“Good morning, Amelia.”
Despite the marmalade slathered atop it, a bite of her toast caught in her throat as James sauntered through the doorway and over to the sideboard. Ire welled up within her. She’d put her breakfast off two hours for nothing?
She closed her eyes. Civility. This situation, like so many others in Society, called for good manners.
“Good morning, Lord James.” Yes, civility and formality, these two would be her bosom friends for the next month.
He finished heaping food upon his plate and dropped into the seat catty-corner from her. Amelia stared at her food as the almond and clove scent of him assailed her nose. As in the past, simply being near him set her blood humming.
She ate faster.
The footman removed a few dishes and exited. The awkward silence expanded by the moment until finally James cleared his throat, drawing Amelia’s gaze.
“Did you rest well?”
He could never be as outwardly charming as Peyton or Stephen; it wasn’t within his personality. But Amelia always had the feeling he asked questions not only to be polite but also because he truly cared about the answers, and the sincerity in his fathomless blue eyes made it difficult for her to deny she had slept restlessly, spending much of the night cursing his poorly timed arrival. But she smiled civilly and did just that.
“Very well, thank you. And you?”
“I haven’t slept so well in years. I’d completely forgotten the comfort of a feather mattress and soft linens...” His voice trailed away as Amelia stared at him, unable to shake the image of James stretched across the mattress, the bed linens tangled, his eyes sleepy.
She looked away and lifted a forkful of ham to her mouth. She was a despicable creature who didn’t deserve Stephen—or any other man on earth. To be unfaithful in her thoughts to the man who planned to wed her...
“I owe you an apology. I never meant my return to be so ill-timed.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she muttered into her teacup before taking a sip.
If she weren’t so hungry, she would have excused herself by now. She was overly warm and could use a bit of fresh air. Sitting this close to James, where she could smell him, almost touch him, was...nothing. It had no effect on her.
She spied two tiny scars on his face that hadn’t been there before: one on his forehead, over his right eye, one just below his lower lip. Perhaps traveling the Continent had been dangerous.
Amelia stared at the top of his dark head as he concentrated on eating. James had traveled. James had seen things. If he would share some of his experiences with her, she could enhance her novel with extra details.
He looked up and adjusted his spectacles. “You look as if you have a question.” His lips crooked up. “Another question. You were full of them last night as well.”
Amelia let that remark pass. “You said that during the war years you ‘went farther afield.’ Where exactly did you go?”
He shrugged. “I found my way to a Greek island. The community there was welcoming. So, I settled in and spent my time reading at the beach and soaking up the sun.” He took a drink of his tea.
“I would love to hear more details. I’ve never traveled beyond England, as you know.”
“My life is not all that interesting, Amelia.” He returned his attention to his plate.
Amelia stared again. He expected her to believe that Greece was uninteresting? That he’d been lounging around an island? She couldn’t see James doing any such thing. He might not be an adventure seeker or a sporting man, but he was hardworking and principled, not given to aimlessness like her father. Certainly, he liked to read, but he couldn’t have carted a whole library all the way to the Mediterranean. Not to mention his skin was anything but sun-browned.
She sipped her tea and watched him. What was he hiding? He glanced up at her once, gave a half-smile at her scrutiny, and then went back to eating. There was more to this.
“Why did you quit the Foreign Office? I thought you liked translating.”
“It grew old after a while.”
“Taviston said advancement was yours for the taking,” she countered. “Why didn’t you simply put in for a different position?” She remembered what he’d said the night before. “Or, why didn’t you return to the Foreign Office once the army turned you away?”
He tipped his head back, smiling like the king’s favorite jester. “I’m the third son, remember? I don’t have responsibilities like Taviston or Kensworth and so I’m able to follow my dreams, as inconsequential as they may seem.”
While his genuine smile might be a thing to behold, this idiotic stretching of his lips made her cringe. Her eyebrows inched up. “You never mentioned your life’s dream was to loll about on a Greek island. Greek isn’t even one of the languages you speak.”
“It is now,” he answered cheekily. “I wanted time alone to see the world and experience a carefree life. I rather enjoyed myself, whether you approve or not.”
“I can’t say I do approve, not when England was fighting for her soul.” Not after knowing what Stephen, a captain in the army, had endured during the war. She waved a hand in front of James and snapped, “This is not the man I used to know.” Indeed, she could easily be watching a play, for he seemed to be immersed in some role she couldn’t fathom.
“You barely knew me and clearly misjudged my character.”
Could she have been so wrong?
“I don’t think I did. Your story is highly unbelievable. Where were you, James?”
He rose quickly, almost toppling his chair. “Do you call me a liar then? Thanks very much, Amelia. Good day.”
He was gone before she could even blink. Amelia sat there, unmoving, her gaze unfocused for the longest time, finally acknowledging to herself that he did have a right to be upset. She’d as much as declared him a liar, though she hadn’t meant to.
Bother! Just what she needed, guilt piled atop all the other emotions that were burning a hole through her stomach.
She groaned in frustration and rose from the table. Suspicious or not, James and his actions all those years ago should not be the center of her thoughts. She would, however, apologize as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Until then, perhaps his anger with her would serve to put some distance between them.
She needed to see Stephen.
Not only did he reside with his brothers, Robert and David, but also Robert’s wife. So Amelia could, and often did, use the pretext of calling on Mrs. Caldwell to visit him. After finding the butler and ordering a carriage, she went upstairs to ready herself for going out, and eventually she was on her way, driving through the rain, not contemplating James, the hurt look on his face, or where he had really spent the last few years.
***
MRS. ROBERT CALDWELL was a long time coming, and when she finally entered the parlor, it was apparent to Amelia that the other woman did not appreciate being called upon before noon.
“Have you some news, Lady Amelia?” she asked as she dropped onto the well-worn rose damask sofa. “Are you here to discuss those political issues again? A lady should have more to do than worry over dreadful things like slavery and...what was that other? Something about suffering?”
“Suffrage. Voting rights.” For once Amelia couldn’t blame her soon-to-be sister-in-law for being irritated; clearly it was her day to ruin the start of everyone else’s. She sank down beside the large-boned brunette. “I apologize for calling so early. I left the house in a rush and didn’t stop to think of the time.”
Mrs. Caldwell waved a limp hand in the air. “Please call for tea. I am famished.”
Usually, the woman resented any presumption on Amelia’s part that she would be mistress here someday, but Amelia wasn’t going to let slip the opportunity to ask for Stephen. She leapt up and pulled the bell then waited by the door for the footman. When he arrived, she ordered tea and biscuits in a low voice, slipping in a request to inform his master of her presence.
Pacing around the room, Amelia again noticed the threadbare condition of the carpets and upholstery. The room hadn’t been redecorated in over thirty years. The previous viscount, Stephen’s distant cousin, had rarely left his estate and obviously not seen fit to spend money on a house he never used.
“Stephen says Lord Peyton’s brother has returned after a long absence.” Mrs. Caldwell’s last words disappeared into a yawn as she laid her head against the sofa and closed her eyes.
“Yes, Lord James is back.” Amelia sighed. Even here, she couldn’t get away from him. She could change the subject, though. “I was surprised to hear you had come to Town.”
Mrs. Caldwell popped up, smoothing back her golden-brown locks. “The Season is about to begin. Mr. Caldwell and I didn’t want to miss the festivities. Stephen was such a killjoy last year, claiming we must remain in mourning for that old codger we didn’t even know.”
“Stephen’s decision was most respectful. Lord Kensworth, from whom he inherited the title, had only died a few months prior.” Mrs. Caldwell knew this, but she insisted on bringing it up every chance she got. “David came as well?”
“Yes, though he only intends to stay a few days.” Mrs. Caldwell examined her fingernails. “You know he much prefers the rough society of Wakebourne.”
David, the youngest of the brothers at twenty-one, did enjoy the country pursuits of hunting, fishing, and riding above all else, but Amelia wouldn’t call the neighborhood around Wakebourne, Stephen’s Hertfordshire estate, rough. He had made many friends and oftentimes stayed away from the estate for days at a time. Still, Amelia preferred his rustic yet enthusiastic company to the cold rudeness of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Caldwell.
The tea and Stephen arrived at the same time. “Ah, two of my favorite things, refreshments and pretty ladies!”
He bowed toward them, but Mrs. Caldwell paid him scant attention. She had already descended upon the biscuits. Amelia smiled at Stephen and waited for Mrs. Caldwell to pour.
“I’ll have sugar, no cream, Lady Amelia,” the other woman commanded once she had swallowed her biscuit.
Amelia bit back a sigh and poured a dish for each of them. She didn’t like doing Mrs. Caldwell’s bidding, but she also did not want to start a fracas.
Stephen lounged in a wing chair, looking every inch as if he had been born into the aristocracy when in fact he most definitely had not. He was a distant relative of the former viscount, and his branch of the family had fallen on difficult times. But with his finely cut blue wool coat, shiny Hessians, and chiseled jawbone, his appearance certainly did credit to the viscountcy. Many in the ton hadn’t given him a second look for their daughters, but Amelia didn’t give a fig about his less than noble upbringing, and fortunately Peyton hadn’t been so high in the instep either.
He smiled at Amelia as he asked, “How was your family dinner last night?”
She barely kept a grimace from her face. “Everyone was in great spirits.”
“And where has the prodigal son been?”
What had she been thinking? Of course Stephen would want to talk about James. His return was the big family news. She would have been better off locking herself in her room for the whole day and disappearing into her writing. How could she possibly even answer? She didn’t know where James had been, but she’d bet a sovereign it wasn’t Greece.
So, she circumvented the question. “Since I truly hope you are coming to dinner this evening, you can ask him yourself.”
Stephen arched his blond eyebrows. “I thought we were attending the Garretts’ rout tonight?”
“Yes, yes!” Amelia almost choked in relief as the words rushed from her mouth. “I had completely forgotten.” She would be gone from Taviston House all evening! A small prayer of thanksgiving was appropriate.
“Good morning, all.” Robert Caldwell, as big and as blond as her future husband, greeted them as he strode into the room and made a beeline for the sofa on which his wife reclined. “Do you know, Mrs. Caldwell, I believe your life will be made much easier when Lady Amelia is moved in here at last.”
There was always the possibility he meant Amelia would be welcome female company, but unfortunately, she knew Stephen’s brother better than that.
Mrs. Caldwell smiled at her husband, her eyes shining. “How so, Mr. Caldwell?”
“You will no longer be required to chaperone at all hours.”
Stephen sat up and leaned forward. “Robert, if you cannot be civil—”
“Did I offend?” His brother shrugged a massive shoulder. “I merely meant things will be more convenient for all involved.”
“If you are inconvenienced here, you may set up your own establishment at any time,” Stephen snapped. “Now, if you will excuse us, I must speak with Amelia.”
He tilted his head toward the rain-splashed window and stood. Amelia joined him there, glad to be away from the others. She couldn’t help feeling a small twinge of guilt, for she did shamelessly use Mrs. Caldwell to see Stephen. Then again, Mrs. Caldwell could refuse to see her anytime she chose.
Stephen leaned casually against the wall but spoke bluntly, his eyes as green as moss-covered rocks. “Is there some history between you and Lord James?”
Amelia shifted her gaze to the window beyond his shoulder. Nothing but girlish wishes and dreams on her part, which she was clearly past.
Pushing away from the wall, Stephen turned his back on the others and spoke in a low voice. “I saw the panic in your eyes when I entered the room. And the way he—”
She cut him off. “I wasn’t panicked. I was surprised.”
“What is he to you?”
Stephen and James would see each other. She’d best explain. With a sigh Amelia sank onto the window seat. Stephen settled beside her. There wasn’t much room between them, but despite the closeness of his thigh and broad shoulder, her heart continued to beat normally. While the sandalwood scent of him was pleasant enough, it didn’t make her dizzy with—
She quashed those errant thoughts.
She glanced across the room to make certain Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell were still absorbed in themselves and then plunged ahead. “Do you remember what I told you about Tessa and Peyton’s hasty marriage and that blackguard, Lytham?”
“Of course.” Stephen eyed the couple as well. “I’ve spoken of it to no one, as I promised.”
“Thank you.” He such a dear friend. “However, I did not tell you everything. I was...am ashamed that I didn’t initially believe Tessa. After she married Peyton and Lytham could no longer have her or the land he wanted, he asked for my hand. My father, of course, approved. I—I said yes because I didn’t know what kind of man he was. I thought my sister was exaggerating. I thought she was being selfish when she tried to talk me out of marrying Lytham. I was horrible.”
Stephen shifted and produced a handkerchief. “You were young, and knowing Tessa, she has forgiven you five times over.”
Amelia dabbed at her eyes. “Of course she has. I was young. And stupid.” That was the brutal truth. Stupid about many things. She should embrace it and carry on with her life. “Let me finish, please.” She took a deep breath. “Peyton and Tessa brought me to their house, intent on saving me from Lytham.” She hesitated, just a fraction of a second. “Lord James was there to help his brother. After everyone discarded several scenarios, James offered to marry me.” She paused. “He was very kind.”
Heroic and honorable, traits that had overwhelmed her immature imagination, allowing her to think he wanted her as much as she wanted him by the end of that trip. She’d been so foolish.
“Indeed. I cannot help but respect such a gesture,” Stephen said. “But what happened? You obviously did not marry.”
Amelia steeled herself. “We left for Scotland late that night.”
Recite the facts, she told herself. Stephen didn’t know the awkward details. How they’d shared their innermost thoughts until she could no longer keep her eyes open. They’d had so much in common: a love of books, though he enjoyed histories and travelogues while she preferred novels; a dislike of the theatre, though they both agreed certain of Shakespeare’s plays were worthy of being seen; siblings who acted like parents. Despite James’s reserved personality she’d been charmed by his intellect and subtle humor—and the way he’d valiantly swept her off to Gretna Green and kissed her. Oh, had he kissed her.
On with the facts. “But some time the next morning we were waylaid by Lytham’s hired man. He tried to attack the carriage but fortunately Taviston had come after us and the duke was able to subdue him.”
She decided to skip over James’s actions. At the time she’d been terribly disappointed in his lack of response to the henchman, but he’d only recently suffered the injury to his back. How could she have expected him to react any faster and be unafraid when they’d had a pistol pointed at them? And who knew? If Taviston hadn’t arrived, perhaps James would have found a way to save the day.
“My God, Amelia!” Stephen turned more fully toward her and grasped her hand. “I had no idea you had suffered such an experience.”
“I do not like to speak of it. But truly, Tessa endured far worse than I.”
“I have no doubt that both of you were brave.”
Stephen squeezed her hand, and she offered a smile which could only be called lackluster. She hurried to finish her story.
“Anyway, after all was said and done and Lytham was dead, James declared there was no reason we should marry. No one knew of our escapade, so...”
She couldn’t say anymore. Inside she felt cavernously empty, as she had then. James had had every right to cry off; he’d only been doing the honorable thing in offering for her in the first place. There had been no need to continue with their scheme. Except...she had thought there was a bond, a strong connection between them.
She had been wrong.
She sensed Stephen’s gaze on her, studying her, and his gentle voice seemed distant. “I must say I am surprised.”
Amelia had no idea what surprised him, and she couldn’t focus enough to care at the moment. Sharing her story with Stephen hadn’t relieved her burden. After suppressing her memories and feelings for so many years, they now came rushing back, threatening to suffocate her.
Especially those kisses she and James had shared. In her starry-eyed wonder, she would have bet her come-out Season he cared for her. That he could have easily fallen in love with her, as she had begun falling for him.
Then he had walked away.
A fortnight afterwards he had run away to the Continent, leaving her life completely. A mere two months later her father suffered an apoplexy and died, leaving all his responsibilities, including Amelia, to others once again. She closed her eyes against the warm tears pooling there. The pain and humiliation of all those years ago squeezed in upon her.
“Amelia.”
Stephen’s fingers swept lightly down her cheek, and she gasped for air, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. As she opened her eyes, she saw that he was on one knee in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—”
“Hush. I didn’t mean to bring up such memories.”
He lowered his head, staring at the floor, and Amelia eyed his blond, wavy locks and thick shoulders. In every way they were like chalk and cheese: James was dark-haired, lean, reserved. Stephen was blond, strapping, cheerful. She knew that was part of Stephen’s appeal; he was the opposite of James. More like Peyton, whom, she must admit, she had worshipped when she was younger.
“I think perhaps it was for the best.”
What? Her mind refocused. “What are you talking about?”
Stephen rose and pulled her up as well. “If you had settled into that marriage of convenience with James, then I wouldn’t have the honor of spending the rest of my life with you.”
Amelia smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. He was too sweet. But she needed to be alone. Desperately. “Oh, Stephen. I’m so lucky to have you. However, I really must be going as I promised to take the children to the park.”
She said goodbye to the Caldwells and followed Stephen into the entrance hall.
“He cares about you,” Stephen declared obscurely with a short nod.
“Who?”
“Lord James.”
She ignored the tiniest quiver in her chest and scoffed. “Stop being ridiculous! You do not even know him.” When Stephen opened his mouth as if to protest, she hurried on: “I want to marry you, Stephen.”
She did. Stephen knew how to laugh and enjoy himself. He kept her thoughts from turning maudlin. They enjoyed working together. Though she was not in love with him, she cared for him. He wasn’t going anywhere; his roots were firmly planted in England—in Hertfordshire, just a mile from her sister’s home.
Regret did not even begin to describe how she felt about her decision to visit Stephen this morning. She would never forgive James if Stephen cried off.
He stared at her for a long moment, as though trying to read her thoughts, and Amelia did not look away. What was there to hide? She had grown beyond her wishful thinking and romantic tendencies.
Stephen smiled, creating a dimple in his left cheek. “I cannot argue when you state your desire so clearly. I’m sorry if I distressed you.”
Her breath came more easily, and she smiled in return. “You can make it up to me by taking me for a drive in the park this afternoon.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He kissed the back of her hand, but then his expression grew serious. “It must be deuced awkward living in the same house with him.”
“Stephen,” she said. “It’s not as if James and I had made a love match. At the time, we were immature, and our heads were filled with the adventure of it all. But that was three years ago. Now, please, let the matter drop.”
He didn’t look as if he wanted to, but he was not as ill-mannered as his brother. “Very well,” he said. “I will fetch you at half past three.”
After a quick glance around the hall, he pulled her close and kissed her. Amelia tried—again—not to be disappointed. She had to stop yearning for that heart-stopping, stomach-tingling sensation. Or perhaps she was doing it all wrong.
They both drew back at the same time and stared at each other. She could not fathom the look in his green eyes, so with a soft goodbye she turned and left.