Chapter Twenty-Two

James returned to London with Robert and David, which might have proved enlightening but didn’t. Robert remained brooding and uncommunicative the entire way, which wasn’t unusual but was frustrating. David enthused about the raid and the escape, too enthralled with the danger and excitement to respond to any of James’s questions.

At Taviston House, the butler Halstead greeted him and pressed a letter into his hand. James glanced at the handwriting and smiled. He couldn’t wait to read it, but he would have to. He escaped to his bedroom to contemplate where he stood with the mission. Pacing the length of the room, he tried to reconcile either the doltish Robert or the callow David as the leader of a plot to assassinate the prime minister. His brain simply couldn’t fathom the idea. Nor could he envision David and Robert’s nervous friend, whom James had seen on the grounds of Wakebourne, having the fortitude to organize the plot. There was still Lord Stretton—

What if Stretton and one of the Caldwell brothers were working together to bring down the government? Stretton did like to play with political fire, and it would make sense that one of the Caldwell brothers was being led by a keener mind.

A small dart of panic nipped beneath his skin as James sat at the small escritoire in the corner, writing an abbreviated report of his Hertfordshire activities. It was already the eighteenth; they were nearing the time frame—the end of April—that Watson had given him for the assassination.

Stretton’s falsehood concerning his whereabouts frustrated James. The baron hadn’t been in London but in Wanstead, according to Amelia’s sources. Doing what, though? Meeting with Romford? Planning the prime minister’s assassination? He must start there, he supposed, all while keeping an eye on the three Caldwell brothers.

He glanced at the letter addressed to him. The thickly folded paper lay there, tempting him. If only the correspondent were here, in London. For he would be able to discuss Amelia with her, something he couldn’t do with the rest of the family.

James snatched up the letter and carefully broke the seal of the Viscountess Dunstan.

My dearest (favorite) brother,

News of your return to England has given me much joy. I am relieved to know you are once more safely within the bosom of our family. I am only dismayed that I am unable to return to Town anytime soon. I do so long to wrap my arms around you and kiss your cheek. It has been too long, brother mine.

But enough of the maudlin. Let me do my duty as a mother and extol the virtues of my dear children. Elizabeth has recently achieved ten years of age. A decade. How on earth have I been a mother for an entire decade, James? It seems as if only yesterday you were ten. Anyway, Elizabeth is, to my utter delight, much like you. She is a thinker who mulls things over from every angle. I cannot wait for the two of you to discuss great important matters.

My dear Kitty is eight and oh-so-like Peyton. She is often restless and is always ready for adventure. If there is no adventure, she will create one. As you can imagine, she frustrates Elizabeth to no end.

Lucy is sweet and adorable, aged five. I would like to say she takes after me, but we both know that is complete nonsense. She resembles my dear departed Edward in both appearance and character. She is often vexed that she can’t keep up with her sisters (much as you were with Taviston and Peyton) and even more vexed that her brother is too young to keep up with her.

Speaking of William, he is a sturdy little lad who is the apple of everyone’s eye, mine included. It seems as if he learns a new word a day. I cherish every minute I can spend with him.

I would gladly end this letter here, but I know I would be in for a scold from you, for excluding any news of myself. Alas, what is there to say? I miss Edward but I have been gifted with four of the best children in all the world. Who am I to complain if the days lack conversation of an adult nature and the nights are long?

I miss you, James. Despite the age difference between us, you have always been the logical, sensible guiding star I need. Now is not the best time for a visit, but I hope that someday soon we’ll be reunited.

Until then, know that I am—

Your loving (favorite) (only) sister,

Hattie

James stared at his sister’s words, feeling truly at home for the first time since his return. As Hattie mentioned, despite her being the oldest of the four Danforth siblings and he being the youngest, the two of them shared a close bond. He’d missed her terribly while on the Continent and missed her still. His mother said Hattie was reluctant to come to London ever since the death of her husband two years prior. James couldn’t get away until he’d nabbed the assassin but even then, it didn’t sound as if Hattie was up for visitors. And that in itself was odd. They had all visited Rutledge Hall frequently over the years, sometimes all together, sometimes in pairs or individually. Why was Hattie so reluctant to see her family?

Another mystery he’d have to solve and solve it he would before he took off for parts unknown again. He would not leave England without seeing his sister and her adorable children.

He would write Hattie back as soon as he had a free moment. For now, though, he had spying to do.

THEY WERE ALL ASSEMBLED, even Taviston, who despite causing a mountain of a scandal with his own marriage, was quite intolerant of the same behavior in others. Amelia meandered around the silver salon, straightening pictures hung on the plum walls, inhaling the aroma of the lilies-of-the-valley prettily arranged in a silver vase, waiting for Stephen to arrive.

Her announcement to the family of the broken engagement had been met with raw shock and dismay, although Amelia suspected Peyton wasn’t as upset as the others. True to her word, Tessa had spoken in support of Amelia’s decision, though Amelia wouldn’t have called it enthusiastic support. All of them—Taviston, Victoria, the dowager duchess, Peyton, and Tessa—had nonetheless expressed a strong desire to help her cushion any blow to Stephen’s reputation. Victoria had taken charge and insisted on a meeting to devise the most appropriate and efficient strategy.

There might not be much gossip, of course. Despite their intimate discussion at Wakebourne the day before, Amelia had no guarantee James would seek to court her after he learned of the change, and there would be little fuel for the fire if he did not. After his rebuff of her kiss, she wasn’t going to pin her heart on a marriage proposal. Taking this step, freeing herself from Stephen, left her far enough out on a limb. Any further wishful thinking might just crack the branch and land her hard on her bottom.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she sidestepped her workbasket. The sunny warmth of the last few days had succumbed to monotonous grey clouds accompanied by a chilly wind.

“I don’t think this is going to be as horrible as we think,” Victoria said into the silence.

“You are far too optimistic, my dear,” Taviston countered. “A trait in you I love, but I have to think Kensworth is in for a rough time.”

“I agree,” said Amelia. “I’m the one crying off, but everyone will blame him. They will think he has done something wrong simply because he’s new to the peerage and Society. My position as an earl’s daughter and relation to Taviston through marriage will no doubt spare me, but Stephen has no such connections.” Guilt surged within her once again. She must convince the ton she was at fault if anyone was to take blame.

The dowager duchess laid a hand on her shoulder, and Amelia barely resisted the urge to throw herself upon that lady and sob her heart out. “Do not fret, my child. The Danforths have survived worse.” The woman threw her sons a speaking look. “Besides, we are already ahead of the game, as Kensworth agreed to come here today and seems to harbor you no ill will.”

“He understands. He’s not upset or angry or...” Amelia broke off before saying jealous. He might be that, but at the moment he had not shown it.

What cause was there, really? Only time would tell if the tentative bond which had once existed between James and her could be restored.

A knock on the door garnered everyone’s attention. A footman swept in, announcing, “Lord Kensworth and...er, Lord James.”

The two men strode into the room. Amelia’s skin prickled with dread. She had not seen James since the bittersweet morning they spent together, and she had no idea what was going through his head.

The gentlemen sketched bows, the differences between them quite striking as they stood side by side—James tall, dark, and lean, Stephen blond and broad. Both were handsome, but only the sight of James made her heart pound. That was why she’d been forced to give Stephen up.

Amelia waited for someone to speak. It should be Peyton; he was her guardian. And yet, this entanglement was her doing.

James, his brow furrowed above his spectacles, looked perplexed. “May I ask what this is all about? I just returned home and met Kensworth in the hall. He insisted I accompany him here. You all look as if you’ve come from a funeral procession.”

“This is your fault.” Tessa’s quiet but harsh accusation cut through the air. “I asked you not to interfere and you promised, James.”

“Hmm. Yes, it’s probably for the best that you are here,” Taviston mused as he rocked up on his toes. “You’ve undoubtedly played a part in this.”

Amelia shot them both a panicked glare. Not only were such comments unfeeling toward Stephen, but this was not the way she wanted James to find out. He couldn’t know what had transpired between her and Stephen.

James looked even more confused, which Amelia found charming because he was usually so aware of what was going on.

“I don’t think blame need be assigned,” Stephen said. “What is meant to be, was meant to be.”

“May I ask for what I am to blame?” James looked around, his gaze lingering overlong on Amelia.

Of course, she should be the one to tell James, but she would rather have told him in private where his reaction wouldn’t be so...public. The others seemed to have faded into silence, and Amelia’s muscles tensed painfully. Please let the dowager speak up. She’s always so compassionate, so calm, so motherly.

“Amelia and I have decided to end our engagement,” Stephen finally said in a rush.

Amelia waited for James’s reaction. And waited. James’s eyes seemed unusually large behind his spectacles. A smile would be nice to see. Just a small one. Actually, any reaction would be good. She might strangle him if he pulled into his shell like a turtle and showed no emotion whatever. Of course, it wasn’t as if she needed to marry anyway. She knew she would always be welcome to live at Applewood with Peyton and Tessa, or even here in Town with Taviston and Victoria.

James turned to Stephen, his hands linked behind his back. “I am sorry to hear of your decision.”

He was looking at Stephen, not her. His words were polite and ever so correct. There was no faulting his manners—

She didn’t give a fig about manners at the moment. She wanted to see a sign, an expression, some sort of action on James’s part to indicate he cared at all about this revelation. But, nothing. No one had moved since the gentlemen entered the room, so Amelia took it upon herself to break up the frozen tableau. She retreated to the far side of the too small chamber and rearranged the perfectly arranged flowers.

Thus occupied, she finally broke her silence. She wanted it understood that her loyalty remained unchanged. “Stephen and I intend to maintain a strong bond of friendship. We are gathered here to devise a plan to protect his reputation.”

As Amelia continued mauling the lilies in an effort to avoid looking at James, she heard skirts swish. “The scandal could be substantial,” the dowager claimed matter-of-factly. “Please, come sit, Lord Kensworth.

Stephen sank into a wing chair and crossed his Hessians at the ankle. “I, however, am confident of weathering any reproach.”

Tessa sank to the sofa with a hand to her belly. Peyton was by her side in a flash. She patted his hand to indicate she was fine. “If you remain friends and comport yourselves appropriately” –here she directed a pointed stare at James— “then I imagine the ton will move on to the next on-dit with all due speed.”

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Amelia looked at James, who’d been silent for some minutes now. He was still standing, his gaze unfocused as if his mind was occupied elsewhere.

At his sister-in-law’s rebuke, which was evident to one and all, he focused on Amelia. She worked at keeping her expression neutral. She’d never received the reaction, any kind of reaction, she had wished for. Blast the man and his reticence.

He looked at the ladies and said, with all the emotion of a tree trunk, “I will do anything I can to cushion the blow to our family and to our friend.” He nodded at Stephen. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”

He bowed toward Amelia. Before he turned, she thought she saw a glint of...something in his sapphire eyes.