London, England, September 1814

Rear Admiral Cockburn had been true to his word. A few days after their dinner, Jonathan and Jake had taken up passage on board a British frigate bound for England. It had been a smooth voyage and a boon for the two Americans because they loved being at sea.

The voyage had taken about twenty-five days to reach England, which generally speaking was the usual time, considering the distance of a little over three thousand nautical miles between Baltimore and Portsmouth. The benefit was that Jonathan’s wound had had time to heal substantially. Upon arrival in England, he could walk fully unaided.

After disembarking at Portsmouth, the two men had obtained travel by coach to the capital city – a journey that had taken them about a day and included an overnight stay at one of the country inns because Jonathan did not need to be overly hasty in his transit. On the contrary, he preferred a little more time to discuss the modus operandi with Jake once they reached London. There were still so many things that needed to be considered. And even if they thought of a hundred scenarios, there would be at least another hundred more to ponder on.

While traveling across the country, Jonathan had to admit that England really was beautiful – there was something decidedly old world about it, speaking volumes of a rich culture and an even richer history. Amelia had spoken to him often about it during their rides back at Fair Weather Heaths’. He had smiled when he saw the rolling landscape that in ways was so much like Virginia. So much was similar and yet, so much was completely different. For one, America had nothing like the quaint little villages that only England could avow scattered across the land – this was something uniquely British.

Amelia had not boasted with a vainglorious flounce or promised too much; even though there had been a touch of jingoism fortifying her words that at the time had made Jonathan smile all the more. To be truthful, everything Jonathan and Jake had seen during their trip had been exactly how Amelia had described it: beautiful, rainy, magnificent when the sun shone, no matter how briefly, and dreamy, like something out of a fairytale.

Jonathan did not know what to make of London though. He did not know whether he liked the city or not. Back home, he had been to Washington, Baltimore, and New York, but they were nothing in comparison. London was a sprawling behemoth that gradually ate up the surrounding villages, and in time, absorbing them as boroughs.

It was the stark divide between the wealthy and the disadvantaged that Jonathan disliked the most. It was the same back home, which was why he ventured as rarely as possible from his plantation. Fair Weather Heaths’ was his haven and he hoped to one day share it with Amelia.

But in London, the gulf between rich and poor seemed more pronounced. On the one hand, the grimy streets boasted dilapidated tenements, which were full of beggars, drunks, and cripples; and on the other, the streets boasted meticulously kept white terraced structures, or gargantuan mansions where elegantly attired men and women roamed – it was in one of these parts of the city where both Jake and Jonathan presently stood.

Jake whistled. “This is quite some place Amelia’s father has got,” he said, looking up at the large structure in the West End of London. It was a classic Georgian terraced building in pristine white that had black numbering on one of the pillars by the front door.

“Yes, it is.” Jonathan thought a moment. “I hope they are home and not in the country.”

“They are here – I can feel it in my bones,” said Jake. Seeing his friend dither, he said, “Well, what are ye waiting for. Ring the bell. We haven’t come all this way to lose heart when only a door separates us from the women we love.”

Jonathan nodded. His heart beat at twice its usual rate. What he was about to do had seemed so easy in his mind during the voyage to England and when he and Jake had discussed their plan the night before. Now he was in front of Amelia’s house, he felt self-conscious. What if she has moved on? Maybe she has finally found love with her betrothed? Could it be possible that she has resigned herself to her fate and was ready to do her duty to her family? Will she spurn me and deny what happened between us?

All of these thoughts made him slightly nauseous. A loud thumping sound followed by the ringing of a large brass bell by the front door roused him out of his ruminations. He looked at Jake with a scowl.

His friend arched his eyebrows and shrugged nonchalantly. “One of us had to do it, and it didn’t seem that it was going to be ye.” He winked and returned his gaze to the large black door.

It did not take long for a footman to open the door that glided ajar with hardly a sound. He did not utter a word. He stepped back with the door until another man came into vision.

In the center of the white and black marble chequered entrance hall stood the butler. “Good Afternoon, gentlemen,” said the man dressed in elegant evening livery that was invariably donned prior to luncheon. His dress consisted of black trousers and a swallowtail coat, under which he wore a black waistcoat and a crisp linen shirt, cuffed with unostentatious link buttons. His feet were clad in shoes of lustreless leather that didn’t make a sound when he moved.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” said Jonathan. “We are here to see the Honorable Amelia Carlyle.”

The butler arched his eyebrows. It was most uncommon for a strange man to be calling on a lady without a formal introduction. “May I ask who is calling?” he asked in his throaty voice that was almost frosty. The muscles on his face hardly moved when he spoke.

“Mr. Jonathan Mitchell and Mr. Jake Farrows from Virginia, USA.” Jonathan thought that maybe mentioning their origins might increase their chances. It must surely be known in the Carlyle household that Amelia had been held in the United States. “Amelia…I mean the Honorable Amelia Carlyle was a guest at my plantation when she was in the Americas.”

“I see. I will have to consult with the master of the house if you wish to see his daughter.” The butler took a step back and ushered both Jake and Jonathan into the house. After the footman had helped them remove their overcoats, the butler directed them to the drawing room. “You may wait here if you please.” He bowed and was gone, his shoes hardly making a sound as he navigated across the ornate parquetry flooring in the drawing room that seamlessly changed to marble in the hall beyond.

Jake whistled again as he surveyed the rich silk wallpaper on the walls and the luxuriant furnishings all around him. “Nice, but not as nice as Fair Weather Heaths’,” he said.

Jonathan did not respond. He was getting more and more nervous by the minute. Time moved so slowly. He became addicted to the rhythmic ticking sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside. Jake was far more sanguine as he prowled around the room, inspecting the artwork on the walls.

“I think this is one of Amelia as a young girl,” he said, examining a portrait.

“Yes, that is of my daughter,” said a voice in a haughty tone. Both Jake and Jonathan looked in the direction of its source. Standing in the doorway was a man of considerable girth. He had a bald head and wore an immaculately tailored suit. “My butler tells me that you are acquainted with my daughter?”

Jonathan got to his feet. “Yes, that is correct.” He moved closer to Amelia’s father and held out his hand. “Jonathan Mitchell, Sir, at your service.”

Sir Thomas reluctantly took the proffered hand. “Sir Thomas Carlyle, Sir.”

After Jonathan had introduced Jake, he launched into the speech he had been rehearsing in preparation for this day. “Sir Thomas, my friend and I have come all the way from the United States on board a British ship to visit Amelia.” He especially thought to avoid mentioning Anna because it might jeopardize her position in the household. “I don’t know whether your daughter mentioned me…”

“No, I can’t say that she has. However, I am not here to entertain your desire of visiting my daughter. I only wanted to meet the man who abducted her and held her against her will. The moment my butler mentioned your name to me, I knew who it was. My future son-in-law mentioned it on occasion when he told me of your outrageous ransom demand.”

“I never followed through with that, Sir,” said Jonathan, interrupting the other man.

“That may be, but you kidnapped my daughter and her lady’s maid. You could’ve harmed them both,” snapped Sir Thomas.

“We would never have done that,” interjected Jake.

“Now, I will have the satisfaction of having you removed from my house. I never thought this day would come,” said Sir Thomas. He called to his butler that he arrange for their coats to be fetched.

“It is imperative that I see your daughter, Sir,” said Jonathan, his disposition vexed.

“No, Sir. It is imperative you leave my property and never come back. I have no wish to converse with rogues for a moment longer. You should be grateful that I do not demand satisfaction. Good day, gentlemen.” Sir Thomas turned and walked out of the room on squeaking shoes.

Jonathan and Jake followed in his wake, continuing to entreaty the man that he changes his mind. However, his passage was unwavering. “Sir Thomas, your daughter is my betrothed,” Jonathan blurted.

His words had the necessary effect. Sir Thomas stopped his pacing and slowly turned. “You are mistaken, Sir. My daughter is to be married to Lord Templeton French, the son of the Duke of Brandon,” he announced imperiously.

“I know that. But that was before she and I fell in love. I have come here to oppose the union to the duke’s son and ask you for her hand in marriage.”

“What a preposterous proposal. I will hear nothing of it and neither will my daughter…of that I am certain. Now be gone before she gets home and finds her vile abductors standing in the hallway of her home,” growled Sir Thomas.

A shrill scream stopped Jonathan before he could respond. “JONATHAN!”

It was Amelia. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her lower lip trembled as she gradually lifted her hand to her mouth. “What…how…why are you here?” It was all she could think of to say. For months she had dreamed of this day, but she had never thought it would come. Now, the man she loved stood in the hallway in her family’s London home.

“Amelia…I can’t believe that I am looking at you.” He saw the confusion and emotion playing on her face. He had to explain. “After the sacking of Washington, Jake and I were captured. I told my captor, Rear Admiral Cockburn, of the way we felt for one another and he offered me passage on one of his ships,” said Jonathan, taking a step in Amelia’s direction. There was so much to tell, but this was not the time and the place. He noticed Sir Thomas seething with indignation next to him.

“An American on board a British ship and courtesy of a rear admiral…absolutely ludicrous!” Lord Templeton French said stepping past Amelia. “Who are these men?” he asked, directing his arrogant gaze at the two Americans.

“And what are they doing in my home?” chirruped Amelia’s mother. She looked snootier than usual in her finely cut coat with the fur lining. She had worn it for the walk in the park she had taken earlier.

“This man here says he’s here to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage,” said Sir Thomas, pointing at Jonathan.

Lord Templeton French hacked out a laugh. “I am afraid you are a little late and too damned American for that to happen, old boy.”

“It is you that is late,” said Jonathan, closing the gap that separated them. He took Amelia’s hands in his. “Do you still love me, Amelia? If yes, tell them, for if being parted from me was as hard for you as it was for me, then we have shared the same pain. Not a day went by that I did not think of you. To hold your hands again is the most special gift.”

A tear escaped Amelia’s eye and rolled down her cheek. Her lips quivered. For a heartbeat, she was lost for words. It was all too wonderful having him standing before her and holding her hands. “I never stopped loving you,” she said at last.

“What! You can’t possibly have feelings for this man,” Amelia’s mother puffed her cheeks like a bullfrog in the mating season, “You are already betrothed to Lord Templeton French.” She started flapping her hands in front of her face erratically. “Think of the scandal; oh, I can’t bear it. Do you want to kill your own mother, Amelia?”

Her daughter whirled around to face her mother. “You think everything is about you, Mother. But it isn’t. I happen to love this man and not the insufferable bore you would have me marry. Captain Jonathan Mitchell is an honorable man and a gentleman.”

“Commodore Mitchell,” corrected Jake, grinning. He couldn’t help looking about furtively in the hope of obtaining a glimpse of Anna.

Amelia smiled at him, then she returned her scrutiny to Jonathan. “Commodore is it?” Her eyes twinkled in just the way Jonathan remembered. He couldn’t help a smile appearing on his face despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“I was promoted in April.”

“Very impressive.” The two of them acted as if they were the only two people in the hall. The love they shared for one another had created that impenetrable bubble that only lovers shared. She gazed into his deep blue eyes that reminded her of the cerulean sky above Fair Weather Heaths’. They drew her in like magnets. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him. But before Jonathan could get any closer, their bubble was burst for them.

“You have feelings for this man. I can see it,” bit Lord Templeton French. “You, ma’am, are a harlot of the lowest kind. Fancy I might have…”

Jonathan punched him in the face before he could continue with his insults. The thwacking sound echoed throughout the large hallway. “No man speaks to the woman I love like that,” he hissed between clenched teeth, his bulk almost filling the entire hallway.

Lord Templeton French staggered back, nearly knocking the lady of the house over. He held his bleeding nose in his hand. “You, sir, are a rogue for preying on innocent women. I’d wager Amelia is not the first woman that was to be engaged that you seduced.” He flinched when he saw the big American with the deep baritone voice make to move closer still. His gaze hastily darted to the front door in search of the fastest avenue of escape.

Amelia held Jonathan before he could attack Lord Templeton French for the second time. “From what I heard about your person and from what I have witnessed here today…you, sir, are a coward,” said Jonathan.

“Such an insult cannot go unanswered.” Sir Thomas stepped between Lord Templeton French and Jonathan. “You should demand satisfaction, my lord,” he said to Airey.

“I, I…no I will not. I have had just about enough of all of this. Keep the woman. She is not worth my life,” said Lord Templeton French, his lips shivering.

Jonathan had seen cowardly men before, but none of them had held a candle on this cowardly aristocrat. Rear Admiral Cockburn had been exactly right in his description of him. He shook his head in disgust when Lord Templeton French spun on his feet and marched toward the door. He was content that he did not have to kill Airey no matter how craven his behavior but seeing a so-called gentleman do absolutely nothing to protect his honor and fight for his right to keep his woman was just about the lowest of the low.

“My lord, my lord, you mustn’t leave. This man has insulted you!” Sir Thomas said in an attempt to stop the fleeing nobleman.

“Airey, you cannot leave us,” said Amelia’s mother almost crying. All of her grand plans of societal elevation went up in smoke before her very eyes. To her, it was a fate more painful than death. She feared that after this day, the Carlyle family would be ostracized and shunned.

After Lord Templeton French had made good on his escape, Sir Thomas turned around to face Jonathan. His gaze seeped anger. In contrast to his former son-in-law, this man was no coward. “Unlike the insipid and spineless lord, I take my honor seriously. I challenge you, Sir, to a duel.”

“I meant no offense, Sir Thomas.” Jonathan said lifting his hands. “I do not wish to fight you. I only wanted to be reunited with the woman I love,” he indicated discreetly with his hand to Amelia, “and I think you heard what your daughter said.”

Sir Thomas’s cheeks inflated. “She has no say in the matter. This is between you and me now.” He inhaled again. “You insult my house, Sir…and my family by coming here. You feigned good intentions by asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage even though you had the gall to court her without my permission. It is an outrage. No gentleman of any standing would resort to such clandestine tactics.”

“We were in America; I had no chance to ask for your permission,” said Jonathan, feeling the situation slipping more and more from his grasp.

“You used your position as my daughter’s captor to inveigle your way into her heart and for that I demand satisfaction.” Sir Thomas said. His face had turned the color of a tomato.

“No Father, you cannot do this;” beseeched Amelia. “I love this man.”

Her father blatantly ignored her. “Be so kind as to supply my butler with the address of your lodgings in the city so that I may provide you with the name of my second. As I am the one issuing the challenge, you may choose the weapons, the time and the place of the duel. Please be so kind as to provide all of that to me in writing by the late afternoon…good day, Sir.” Sir Thomas grabbed his daughter by the arm and guided her away. His wife, who was still in shock, followed quickly after them.

“Sir,” said the butler, handing Jonathan quill and paper. “For your address,” he prompted when he saw the confusion play on his face.

Jonathan had no choice but adhere to the butler’s request. Not doing so would invite the title of cowardice to his name, and even worse, he would never be able to see Amelia again. He was certain that her father and mother would keep a close eye on her now that they knew of his existence.

He scribbled his address and handed it back to the waiting butler. For one or another reason, Jonathan stared at him for a few heartbeats. The man was absolutely emotionless. The expression on his face was the epitome of passivity. It was like gazing at a wall.

“Come on, Jake, let’s get out of here,” he said after he had had enough of Sir Thomas’s home.

The two men took their coats from the waiting footmen and vacated the house. Somehow, he had expected his reunion with Amelia to have played out differently. Instead of fighting Lord Templeton French, he would face her father. God, how will I get myself out of that one? he thought, turning onto South Audley Street.