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They whiled away the afternoon in a most pleasing fashion that, thankfully, rarely touched on—for Amelia— the unnerving topics of politics or the government. She and Peyton accompanied Stephen while he gave James a walking tour of the estate immediately surrounding the house. The day was beautiful. White fluffy clouds lazily crossed the sky with the help of a gentle breeze.
When Robert and David returned from a visit to the local village, Kensworth suggested a game of pall mall. Amelia readily grabbed a mallet to join in and, despite the rambunctiousness of the gentlemen, especially the two youngest Caldwell brothers, maintained her focus enough to win the match. David hastily gathered a bouquet of wildflowers and presented them to her with a gallant bow. She accepted them with a laugh, unable to believe she could spend such a carefree day in the presence of James and Stephen.
She’d been aware of James’s eyes on her more often than not. Undoubtedly, he thought she might divulge, whether by accident or on purpose, something of the nature of his visit. He could have given her more credit.
After a more enjoyable dinner than she could have imagined, she and Peyton rode on to Applewood and settled in for the night, but the next morning Amelia rose before her brother-in-law and rode back on her mare toward Wakebourne. She had overheard Stephen and James talking about a more thorough tour of the estate, and if she just happened to come upon them, well, James might call it meddling, but she would call it protecting. She would not allow James to ruin Stephen’s reputation merely because of unwarranted suspicions; she was reserving the right to ruin his reputation by jilting him.
Bother.
The morning clouds hung low, trapping the air and keeping it cool, but those clouds were thin, and she could see the sun fighting its way through. Another beautiful day.
Amelia topped a small rise and reined in the mare. Scanning the landscape of Stephen’s estate, she spotted a lone rider heading north, away from the house. Even from this distance she recognized James, but where was Stephen?
She urged her mare forward at a brisk trot and soon caught up. He turned in surprise at her approach and halted his bay, disapproval pinching his handsome features.
“What are you about now, Amelia?”
“A morning ride,” she answered, unable to suppress a smile. Frustrating James was highly entertaining. “Where is Stephen? I thought you were to ride out together.”
“You are none too subtle about your meddling, dearest sister-in-law.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders, stretching the brown tweed of his coat in a most pleasing way. “Kensworth has been ensnared by his steward, who has papers and ledgers that must be seen to. I decided to ride anyway.”
“Don’t you mean ‘spy?’” she asked, eyebrows raised.
He fixed her with a glare.
She grinned again. “Mind if I join you?”
***
JAMES DIDN’T ANSWER immediately, but instead took the opportunity to survey Amelia’s attire—and the woman beneath. She sat atop her horse, a petite black mare with a white star on its forehead, smiling prettily. Despite masculine touches such as a smartly tied cravat and military braiding, the high waist of her green wool riding habit provided a lush display of her feminine attributes. Unfortunately, a simple hat of olive green adorned with a white silk rose covered most of her rich, dark hair, but he remembered how the silky threads weighed heavily in his hand the night she’d—
“Well?” Amelia stared up at him, clearly enjoying her intrusiveness.
“Right,” he muttered, bestirring himself to redirect his mount and his thoughts. He must begin viewing Amelia in a different light. As the sister she was. That’s all they would ever be, related through their siblings’ marriage. But sister or no, he couldn’t resist her company; he was weak. “Yes, do come along.”
She arched her eyebrows and they set off at a sedate pace. Silence reigned as they followed the drive. Finally, they veered off onto a smaller, less traveled lane flanked by hedgerows.
Amelia dispelled the quiet at last. “Do you really think you’ll find ‘proof’ of Kensworth’s innocence out here?”
“No.”
She nodded. “I would think searching his home would prove more efficient.”
“Are you encouraging me to violate his privacy?”
Her icy gaze would have withered the staunchest flower. “Do not tell me you hadn’t already planned to do so.”
He had intended, albeit reluctantly. Treating Kensworth in such a manner was just as distasteful to him as it was to Amelia.
“If you mean to search tonight, do be careful. One of David’s hounds sleeps outside his door. If that beast thinks you are going anywhere near the kitchen, he will follow you—and none too quietly either.”
He didn’t want to know how she’d acquired this tidbit. Ugly images of her and Kensworth anticipating their marriage vows assaulted his mind. “How do you know that?”
She twitched in her saddle at the sharpness of his tone. Then she laughed, a rich happy sound he hadn’t heard in far too long. “Stop looking so scandalized! Mrs. Caldwell loves to complain about David, and his ‘wretched hounds’ are at the top of her list.”
Relieved though he had no right to be, James stared down the narrow lane. The hedgerows had tapered off, expanding his view of the property. To the right, bluebells and cowslips ran wild through an undulating meadow, a cozy combination of blue and yellow complementing the underlying green. To the left, the estate’s lifeblood sprang up, row upon row of wheat and barley. James drank in the beauty of the landscape, aware once again of how long he had been gone and what he’d missed. Not just his family, but his country.
Amelia recalled his attention. “Kensworth apologized and said Peyton and I couldn’t come for dinner tonight as the two of you have plans. Where are you going?”
She was too astute. “Amelia...”
“I will be at Applewood, for heaven’s sake! I don’t intend to follow you. Do you give me no credit for having any sense?”
“I know you have sense,” he said softly, “but I also know how passionately loyal you are to Kensworth. You won’t let sense keep you from defending him.”
A frustrated groan slipped from her throat. “I know he is not capable of whatever you suspect him of.”
“That doesn’t make sense. If you don’t know what I suspect him of, how can you know if he’s capable of it or not?”
“Then tell me your suspicions.”
Now James grunted in frustration. “You are persistent as well as loyal. But so am I. I’ve already promised I will do my best to clear your future husband. I don’t want him to be involved any more than you do.”
“You’ve said as much,” she said in a musing tone. “Why is that?”
Because I don’t want you hurt by the scandal. “Because, under vastly different circumstances, I think Kensworth and I might have been friends.” That was the truth, just not the whole of it.
Amelia tugged on the reins, halting her horse. James had to do the same.
“Yes. Yes, I can see that.” She smiled, but there was a touch of melancholy in the curve. “James, I have every intention of keeping quiet as long as you allow me to watch out for his character.” Her spine sagged ever so slightly. “Keeping that secret from him, I’ll have you know, makes me feel guilty. But,” she added on a sigh, “if I did betray you to him, I would feel just as guilty.”
Fingers of warmth spread through his chest. Poor Amelia, caught between the two of them. But perhaps she knew more that could aid him. “Did you know he is involved with a radical club?”
She cocked her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. “Radical? He mentioned a club, but I thought it harmless enough.”
“I do not think it is. Even if he has nothing to do with what I’m investigating, I fear his membership in that club could damage his reputation, both politically and socially.”
Resting her hands in her lap, the reins slack between her fingers, Amelia nodded. “He is a bit naïve about Society. He hasn’t lived under the ton’s scrutiny for long. I don’t think he even begins to comprehend how they think and what they are capable of.” She tightened her grip on the reins and inched her mare forward, closer to James’s bay. “Could you please talk to him? He has worked so hard to make a name for himself in Parliament, and I know he only wants to help those who begin life where he did.”
James leaned forward, stretching his back again. “I’ve already tried, to little avail.” At Amelia’s disappointed frown he added, “I will try again. I’m beginning to see the wisdom of reform; I just don’t think he’s going about it the right way.”
“Thank you.”
She was too close. The familiar yet unidentifiable scent of her delighted his nose, and her riding habit was far too form-fitting in all the right places. He nudged his horse back a pace. “We haven’t done much riding. Shall we race?”
She nodded gamely, and James took off without warning. He didn’t look back to see her indignant face, but he could well imagine the narrowing of her pretty eyes and the setting of her jaw. Amelia liked a challenge, though, and that’s what catching up to him would be.
He let the bay gallop steadily, but not headlong, fearful that Amelia might not be able to hold her seat racing sidesaddle. The warm, heavy air whipped past his face and through his hair, but as they followed the lane around a curve the thunder of furiously paced hooves sounded nearer. His taller, longer-legged horse could have easily beaten the mare in a distance race, but Amelia’s mount was powerful for her size. The mare pulled abreast of his bay, its rider leaning forward and grinning as if she had won a race at Newmarket.
The lane straightened as they headed toward a copse of beeches. James flicked a glance at Amelia and then pressed his heel into his horse’s flank. The bay lengthened its stride, easily distancing them from the mare. Only when they neared the entrance to the small wood did he pull up and turn once more to watch Amelia ride toward him.
This, not winning, had been his goal all along. There was nothing quite like watching a woman ride a horse. She had slowed the mare to a trot and once more sat regally in the saddle. That wool habit outlined every delicious curve of her body, while the horse’s gait made her breasts bounce in a cock-hardening way.
He grimaced and turned his horse as Amelia approached, hoping she wouldn’t notice his condition. If this was the way he thought of his “friend’s wife,” it was a good thing he didn’t have any true friends.
“Next time,” she admonished as she pulled up beside him, “you will have to try to win without cheating.”
He looked over to see her brown eyes sparkling with vivacity. It was good to see her enjoying herself, divested of anger. He almost didn’t mind she wasn’t his. Almost. He smiled anyway. “It was the only way I could win.”
Her mare danced sideways, still energized from their race. “I didn’t think you were the win-at-all-cost type.”
“I’m not, but you are,” he replied. “Since winning means more to you than me, surely you must expend the greater effort in achieving your desire. Otherwise, how can you be satisfied with your accomplishment?”
Right now, she seemed quite satisfied with the way things had turned out. A soft smile shaped her lips and her eyes crinkled at the corners.
James cleared his throat. “The horses need to move.”
After a brief hesitation, Amelia urged her mount to walk along the lane again, beneath an arch of beech branches. Tiny buds dotted the limbs, verdantly shining in the April sun, and James followed, turning the conversation.
“I noticed you were reading Pride and Prejudice after dinner last night. Have you had any new insights? I’ve read it twice and even the second time feared neither Jane nor Lizzy would end up happy.”
“It does always raise my spirits to see them both content in the end. I am struggling with how to end my own novel.” She stared straight ahead as her voice grew quieter. “I used to think life was no different than those books. A happy ending for all.”
Then he’d left her and ruined her romantic outlook on life. He understood now just how much heartbreak he’d caused. Briefly he closed his eyes. The sweet chirping of several wrens filled the air.
“Do you really intend to stop working on your book once you and Kensworth are married?” He’d seen the flash of irritation on her face the other night when Kensworth responded so insensitively.
Now, an odd mixture of pain and exasperation flitted across her features. Lips in a grim line, she answered, “No, I do not. I intend to seek publication, even if I must do so anonymously, as the lady author of Pride and Prejudice has been forced to do.”
“I am very glad to hear it. Never lose yourself, Amelia. Marriage should not erase a woman’s hopes and dreams.” Her ambitions had given him an idea. He must find time to speak with Victoria on his return to London.
Amelia lifted a shoulder. “Alas, women do often get lost in marriage. Thank you for your encouragement, though.”
After a quarter mile amongst the trees, they emerged into a clearing with a small stream running through. Pale pink lady’s smock ran rampant near the edge of the water and encircled several large flat stones moored in the grass.
“Let’s stop and let the horses drink,” Amelia said. “I could do with a rest as well.”
James alighted, more than willing to stretch his legs. He stripped off his gloves and stuffed them in the saddlebag, retrieving a napkin-wrapped package.
Amelia had already dismounted and was shaking her long skirts back into place. He offered his arm, as he would have done for his mother or sister. She took it and guided him toward the stream.
She felt so right tucked against his side, her sweet scent wafting up to call to him, the sun bringing a bronze glint to her eyes. Unintended or not, he never wanted this morning together to end.
He also wanted it over right now. He wanted to prove Kensworth innocent, find the prime minister’s assassin, and board the next ship to America. Or India. Or anywhere thousands of miles away from Lady Amelia Colvin, soon to be Lady Kensworth.
She was oblivious to his pain. Pointing to the bundle he held, she asked, “What’s that?”
“Sustenance,” he replied, holding it out. “Salvation.”
She stopped abruptly in front of one of the gray stones sunk into the earth. “I am quite capable of going without food for a few hours,” she said, clearly vexed.
God, how he loved her. Despite his mood, he grinned. “I know you are, but you are not capable of doing it without becoming irritable.”
Jerking her arm free, she plopped down onto the smooth stone in a most unladylike fashion. “I am not irritated!”
He lifted his eyebrows.
“I need to eat less, and you are not helping matters.”
“Eat less? Why?” She loved food. Why shouldn’t she satisfy her hearty appetite? Lowering himself to the stone next to her, he handed her the package.
She waved her other hand down the length of her body, as if he needed an invitation to look at her. “I am too plump.”
Oh, the replies he could have made to that statement. But phrases such as “kissable curves,” “bountiful breasts,” and “lush derriere” were not remotely appropriate coming from his lips, no matter how truly they might describe her. And tempted though he was to say something equally valid but slightly less scandalous, he should refrain. He was well aware he had no right.
So, he replied blandly, “Of course you aren’t.”
She whipped her head to the left and stared into the distance. James studied her profile and, though she tried to mask it, he spotted pain in the tightness around her eyes and mouth.
That wouldn’t do.
You’ve no right to say anything. Be honorable.
Where was the honor in allowing someone to hurt? The truth couldn’t possibly be wrong, could it?
Of course it could. She isn’t yours. Keep your mouth shut.
“I’ve always thought you like a diamond.”
“Tessa is the diamond of the first water, not me.”
James examined Amelia, soaking in every detail of this woman who would never be his. She’d still not turned back to him. “I’m not speaking of Society’s definition of beauty. You sparkle, Amelia. With joy, with intelligence, with devotion. You’re hard as well.” He paused at that and was rewarded with a minute lift of her eyebrow. “Not hard of heart, not impenetrable, but resilient and stubborn. You’ve rebounded from some of life’s toughest blows: the loss of your mother, the negligence of your father, the horror of Lytham, a jilting by the biggest fool in England.” Her eyelids swept down at his admission. “Yet, you’ve found joy in your new family, you’ve found the love of a good man, you’ve found satisfaction in your writing. You’re adamantly loyal to those you love. You’re a diamond whose brilliance is unparalleled, and I won’t hear a word to the contrary.”
She lifted her lashes but did not favor him with her gaze. Fiddling with the napkin on the bundle he’d handed her, she mumbled “I thought Peyton was the silver-tongued one.” Letting out a sigh that made James’s chest ache, she unwrapped the refreshments. “Apple tarts? You do not play fair at all, James Danforth.”
“I think we’ve already established that.” She handed him a tart. He made certain not to touch her as he accepted it. He’d like to think that was another lie, that he always played fair, but he hadn’t lately. Kensworth had more cause than he knew to question James’s honor. He’d vowed to act the gentleman but anymore he wondered just how much claim he had to the name.