On the Way to Portsmouth, England, November 1813

Amelia stared out of the carriage window. She felt like a criminal or some person who was condemned to a life of purgatory. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She had met the duke, and as her mother had said, his son had not been present. He had been sent to Canada to represent his family’s interests there. And that was where he still was – Thank God.

The duke was nothing like his arrogant son. In a way, if he were younger, Amelia might have considered becoming his betrothed. However, his son was an entirely different matter altogether. He oozed entitlement. To Amelia, this was one of the most undesirable qualities in a man. She was the daughter of a lesser peer, and consequently, she should be honored to be considered for such an exalted position as the future Duchess of Brandon. But she wasn’t.

At first, she had still harbored hope. Anna had kept her going with the promise that her dream would come true. Amelia had tried her best to believe her – yet, no matter which way she put her head around the matter, she could not think of a way out of her predicament.

For a time, she had thought that news would arrive from the British possession across the Atlantic that Airey had found another woman. But no such luck. He never wrote to her like other men would when they were to be married. The duke’s son knew that she was his, so no effort was necessary on his part. Not that Amelia would have been interested. But she still thought that was the way things should be done.

The past months had gone by so quickly and she still was his betrothed. The deal had been sealed that fateful afternoon at Brandon House in London. There was no turning back. Fate was remorseless in its machinations. All she could do was succumb to it.

Amelia let her gaze rest on the racing English countryside beyond the carriage window. It was a dull and cloudy day. Angry in its passivity as the greyness attempted to swallow up everything. The leaves had already fallen, leaving their bounty for the earth to devour. The nakedness of the branches somehow emulated the nakedness she felt in her heart and soul.

The world sort of burst upon her view. It was England, Amelia’s home and the place she loved most in the world. Yet, as the days, weeks and months had gone by, she started to realize that maybe there was another place where she might feel just as much at home. Would it be Canada? It was where her father was sending her, to visit her sister and, of course, to be close to her betrothed. No, it was not possible. No place was like home.

Suddenly, Amelia felt a sliver of worry envelop her innards. It was as if invisible hands were squeezing her there in an attempt to snuff her out. She was homesick before she had even left. Her breathing deepened, quickened in imitation of her heart rate – I don’t want to marry this man. I despise him. I know it even before I truly have come to know him. Amelia pressed her face against the glass of the window that hazed over when her warm breath assaulted it.

Let me catch this rapturous remembrance before it vanishes! It is like the passing lights of autumn that gleam for a moment on a hill and then leaves into darkness. Amelia started to count the days and hours that would withhold her from this fairyland that was called England.

She was condemned to forego the delights of a world, which her imagination painted in the gayest and most alluring colors, and whose hues were, perhaps, not the less captivating because they were only ideal — such was the state, to which she was destined. Again, her resolution was invigorated; her father’s unkindness subdued tenderness, and this roused indignation.

“Amelia, aren’t you excited to see Adelaide?” asked her father, referring to her sister who lived in British America. “Amelia, did you hear me?”

“What was that, Father. I was just dreaming, that’s all.”

“About the charming young Airey, I suppose.” Her father chuckled. “Young love; isn’t it wonderful?” he mused out loud.

Amelia thought she was going to be sick. How could her father be so callous? They were never close like father and daughter should be, but that didn’t mean he could dump her on the first eligible nobleman’s son just because he wanted to elevate his social standing.

“I do not love him,” hissed Amelia.

Her father arched his eyebrows. Next to him, her mother snapped her head in her direction. “You are sometimes the most self-centered person I know. Your father and I have put a lot of thought into this engagement. The least you could do is show a little gratitude.”

“Gratitude, Mother. I do not love the man,” Amelia spat. “And it is you who is self-centered – not I.” she returned her gaze to the passing landscape.

Her mother took a moment to compose herself before she spoke. “It’ll come in time. I didn’t love your father at first.” She turned to him and stroked his hand. “In time, we learned to love one another…didn’t we Tweenie?”

“Yes, my dear, we did,” he said, smiling back at her.

“But Templeton French is evil. I could see it in his eyes. I could never learn to love such a man,” said Amelia still looking out of the window. How she wished she could be sitting with Anna in the baggage coach.

“Would you prefer a fat old man to that young and beautifully turned out gentleman? In my view Airey is absolutely gorgeous,” said her mother.

“I would like neither, thank you very much. I want to choose whom I marry,” said Amelia, briefly looking back into the inside of the carriage.

Both of her parents laughed. “That’s not how it works, Dearest. We marry for position and status and to maintain that status quo. We cannot dilute the haves with the have-nots – it just wouldn’t be fitting.” Her mother arranged her clothing as if to make her point.

“What on earth would a duke’s son want with a lowly ship owner’s daughter anyway? If I am not mistaken his father is the seventh in line to the title. You, Father, started as a stevedore and you worked your way up.” Amelia sneered. “This is a classic example of a peasant marrying into nobility.”

Her mother nearly fainted. She took a quick succession of breaths, making the situation worse. Her father shot his daughter a hard look as he tried to calm his wife. “Now, look what you’ve done. Your mother is unwell thanks to you.”

Amelia smiled. She had not felt this good in weeks. It was about time somebody told her parents, who had grown in self-implied importance since the accolade, what their heritage was.

Besides, none of it made any sense to her. Even if the duke was the seventh in line, at some point, there must’ve been a first in line. Maybe he might have been a lord or something, but along the way, the Templeton French family was once just that, the Templeton French family and nothing more. What was all of the fuss about peerage anyway? Amelia never had been one for the system.

“You are going to Canada to visit your sister, and when Lord Templeton French comes calling, you will comport yourself as it befits the daughter of a noble house. Your sister, Adelaide, has agreed to do the chaperoning with her husband. Is that clear?” said Sir Thomas.

Amelia huffed. “And you don’t worry that I might be attacked by the Americans. If you haven’t forgotten, there is a war going on between this country and that of the United States of America…it would be safer if I remained here until things calmed down.”

“Poppycock! The British Navy has the Atlantic Ocean in her pocket. The yanks don’t stand a chance,” said her father condescendingly.

“I beg to differ. American privateers scourge the sea. They have already captured countless British trading vessels,” said Amelia. “I read that in the newspapers the other day.

Her father seemed surprised that his daughter would even deign to read the newspapers. However, he regained his composure quickly. “Then, you have no need to worry because you shall be on board a frigate of the Royal Navy.” He inflated his chest importantly. “The Duke of Brandon arranged it personally.”

Amelia was about to jump out of the moving carriage, but the thought of Anna’s dream stopped her. She pleated her brow. Weren’t they going on a voyage by sea? Was that not where they would meet their men. This is ridiculous, she thought. She looked up when she heard her father chuckling to find him stroking her mother’s cheek affectionately.

“What’s so amusing, Father?” she asked, not really wanting to.

“Oh, it’s not that it is amusing. It is sweet…the Duke of Brandon said that he wouldn’t ever place his future daughter-in-law in harm’s way, hence the frigate at your disposal, Amelia. What an honor.”

This was going nowhere. Amelia would just have to resign herself to her impending fate and pray for the best. Maybe Anna was right after all, and this was the beginning of a fabulous adventure.