Chapter 10
Amelia slipped out of the library and closed the door behind her. With her hand on her chest, she willed her heart to slow. She let out a long sigh, welcoming a deep sense of relief. The meeting, she concluded, had been a good start.
A very good start.
And most importantly, the hard part was over. A sense of accomplishment ensued. She hadn’t realized the tremendous pressure she had been under until this moment had passed and relief washed over her. She hadn’t thought about all the things that could have gone wrong until now. Perhaps it had been too awful to even consider. Still, there was much to accomplish before she could finally be free.
There was something else, this strange feeling that came over her every time she was in the presence of the earl. It wasn’t the same feeling she’d felt for the stable hand who had become more than her friend.
Many years ago, he had found her sobbing in one of the stalls after she’d been reprimanded for not finishing her lesson and for talking back to Mrs. Pots. She’d been young, and so had he, and from there, their friendship had grown and blossomed. There were a few stolen kisses and promises she could never keep, and their private moment each day, however short, was the only thing she had looked forward to. But her grandmother had discovered the truth and punished them.
Warm tears wet her cheeks, but she wiped them away. She wondered where the stable hand was now. She owed him much.
But this feeling for the earl wasn’t as simple, and she didn’t like it. It made her second-guess herself in his presence and think of him in a most disturbing manner that made her want.
She had dreamt of this moment for so many years, secretly planning how she would one day return to London and reunite with Millie. After all, she’d promised to do so, hadn’t she?
While her grandmother had been relentless in her demands, Amelia had known that if she abided by her wishes long enough, she would gain her grandmother’s trust and have the chance to ensure her own freedom—far from the misery of her childhood and a future shackled like a slave to fulfill the wishes of men, just as her mother had been. No, she was not going to be that woman.
Stepping away from the door, she quickly she made her way to the ballroom before Mrs. Pots could notice her missing. As soon as she entered the ballroom, she saw Mrs. Pots searching in the crowd for her.
Blast. She quickly made her way through the crowd, hoping Mrs. Pots hadn’t seen her enter the ballroom. She nudged her way between large crowds of people conversing along the periphery. She saw a large palm, and she backed into the wall toward it, where she nearly collided with a woman.
"Pardon," Amelia said. "I did not see you there."
The young woman swiped at her dress. Quite young. Perhaps this was her first Season? She looked up at Amelia not with contempt, but with a smile, as if to undo the tension. There was something in her eyes that was kind, humble, and Amelia instantly took a liking to her.
“Oh, heavens,” the young woman said. “It was my fault, really. I should have seen you coming.”
Amelia felt horrified as she looked down at the woman’s lovely dress, a very expensive one at that. “I am afraid we will need to get the stain off your dress.”
The young woman looked down at her dress dotted with red punch.“Oh,” she said. “My brother will be furious with me.”
“I am sorry, really I am.”
The young woman smiled, as if to concede. “Actually, you did me a great service. However, I am afraid my brother will be most disappointed.”
“Your brother?”
“Oh,” she said. “My apologies. I’m Emily Wentworth.” She dipped down suddenly.
“What is the matter?”
“My brother, there, is the Duke of Kemp.”
The Duke of Kemp. Amelia had heard of him once or twice. She saw a handsome man looking in her direction and she gave him a faint smile. His frown transformed into a wide smile. If she recalled from what Kate had told her, the Duke of Kemp was married to an American heiress who had doubled his fortune. There were rumors that she could not give the duke a son, and that he may proceed with a divorce.
“I’m Amelia Knight,” she said. “I am very sorry about your dress.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re the heiress from Scotland, are you not?”
“Don’t hold that against me.”
Miss Wentworth chuckled, and several women glared at them disapprovingly. Amelia looked back and, standing on her tiptoes, searched the crowd.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you hiding from?”
“My chaperone. I don’t think she sees me yet, which is a good thing, I suppose. She’s there,” Amelia said, her eyes directing her newfound friend to the crowd where couples were engaged in a waltz.
Miss Wentworth observed the older woman looking about the crowd. “She reminds me of a prickly thorn.”
Amelia held back a laugh to avoid attention. “Why are you hiding from the duke, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Miss Wentworth sighed. “My brother is in the process of procuring a husband for me.”
Amelia understood that all too well. “His grace will not allow you the choice?”
Miss Wentworth’s smile faded. “Even if he did, do we really have a choice in the matter?”
There was a sense of defeat in Miss Wentworth’s tone. Before Amelia could respond, the clank of glass hushed the entire room, and Amelia and Miss Wentworth both went still. To Amelia’s surprise, the Earl Blackthorn was standing near the orchestra holding a glass of champagne, as if he were about to make an important announcement.
“It’s the Earl Blackthorn,” Miss Wentworth said, tiptoeing to see what was happening. “Maybe he has proposed marriage to the Countess Deveraux. I heard she is back in London.”
Was that the woman Amelia had seen in the library earlier during the ball when his lordship had asked her to meet him? Could this woman be the reason for his reluctance to agree to her plan? Was he still in love with her? Perhaps he had changed his mind in the last few minutes since Amelia had left him in the library. A fickle man. Strange, he didn’t seem like the sort, she thought with deep disappointment seeping into her heart.
“Dear friends,” Earl Blackthorn started. What on earth was he doing now? She moved an inch closer to listen. “Tonight I have the pleasure of introducing you to a very special woman.”
Amelia looked around the room, biting her lip, afraid to listen further. Her heart pumped faster as each second ticked by.
“Miss Amelia Knight,” he finally said. “My fiancée.”
Amelia froze unable to speak or comprehend what was happening. What on earth? Did he just say her name to the ton? Plastering a smile on her face, she whispered, “Oh, no, no, no.” Oh, God, what was happening? Was he mad?
Gasps and whispers waved through the ballroom. All eyes turned toward where she stood, foolishly standing there, unable to move.
Blackthorn’s mother was by his side, smiling. “Where is the lovely bride-to-be?”
The crowd fell silent and parted.
A wide smile came over Miss Wentworth, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Go,” she said, nudging Amelia. “You can’t deny Lord Blackthorn.”
She started to move. Why was she so nervous? This was what she had wanted all along. She felt all the eyes in the room on her, and this made her quite uncomfortable. She didn’t like crowds, not in the least.
When she joined him near the orchestra, he said, “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, my sweet?”
She smiled and nodded rigidly.
They proceeded to the dance floor as the orchestra played a waltz. He cupped his warm hand around her right hand and placed the other on her back, and as they moved, he proceeded to pull her close to him and lead the waltz. The man moved as smoothly as if he had done this a million times. His footsteps glided easily without a hitch, and she followed his lead just the way she had been taught.
The music filled the air, and he pressed her close, while he whirled her around the room like a silk ribbon fluttering in the wind. All the while, he had full control of every turn, every movement.
Heart pumping with excitement as if she were a giddy girl, she reminded herself this was just part of the business deal. His eyes were on her as if nothing else mattered, and she dared not look away. She needed the crowd to think they were in love, a good suitable match. Even though she would have gladly simply paid him for the house and been left alone to do as she wished, that was not a choice she had.
The whispers and murmurs from the crowd made her uneasy. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people; indeed she had met some decent people, but they weren’t this kind of people. The people she enjoyed were decent, hardworking individuals that knew the value of human life. These people valued one thing and one thing only: money. She could see their scrutiny as if she were some specimen to be dissected.
She knew her duty, and she had been trained well. This was the price she had to pay to accomplish what she had dreamt of for nearly all her life. In the corner, she saw Miss Wentworth smile at her, making the situation a little more bearable.
She must have looked nervous, because Blackthorn tipped her chin to look at him. “Don’t mind them. Keep your eyes on me,” he said, then whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful.” He swirled her around once more. Her heart beat faster with each swirl, touch, and glance as if she might believe she was the princess being wooed by the prince. Far from it.
Her gaze met his for several seconds, and his expression was unreadable. Then his lips formed a reassuring smile that said everything was going to be fine. It made her feel wanted, safe in his arms, allowing her doubt to slowly dissolve.
Another turn. Then another.
Before she could get her head around what was happening, the music came to a stop. He gently tugged her to him, quite close, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it. Sounds of “ah” and gasps followed from the crowd.
She pulled her gaze away and looked at the crowd gathering, whispering. But he pulled her to him, forcing her to look at him. What was happening? And why had he announced their engagement without notifying her? Before she had the chance to say something, the earl invited the crowd to dance.
“Shall we take refreshments?”
She nodded, touching her chest and feeling her heart pumping wildly. As they stepped off the dance floor, her hand slipped through the crook of his arm and rested there as he led her away from the crowd toward the refreshments table opposite the French doors. They didn’t exchange words. As strange as it was, being near the earl made the night a little easier, as long as he didn’t try to take control of the situation.
All of a sudden, she grew resentful.
Very resentful.