Chapter Eleven
Embry sat across from her in the parlor. Amelia hadn’t yet said two words, not that anyone would have noticed around the avalanche of adoration tumbling from her mother.
The doctors had come and gone, and Julia was on the mend once again, but it was one scare too many. That any of them, especially her mother, could think of idly socializing at a time like this was offensive. Julia was better, no longer sweating through her sheets, but still weak enough that moving around her room was about all she could manage.
“Your carriage was so comfortable, Lord Montrose. Is it new?”
Embry frowned. “No, not especially.”
“Ah. Then it must have been the extraordinarily fine company. And fine looking as well, if I do say so.”
“Thank you.” He looked around the room uncomfortably, settling on Amelia.
“You’re so splendid in grey,” Lady Bishop continued. “Do you think you’ll wear grey for the wedding?”
“Perhaps. Lady Bishop—”
“Please, call me Felicity. We’re family now.”
“Felicity,” he said with a nod. “Perhaps Amelia and I could have a few moments alone?”
Lady Bishop sent him a knowing smile. “Of course, of course. I’m sure you two have quite a lot to talk about.”
When Lady Bishop left the parlor, the silence stretched out between them. If he wasn’t going to say anything, Amelia might as well. “Lord Montrose—”
“Amelia,” he said at the same time.
They lapsed back into temporary silence.
“I wish you would go back to calling me Embry,” he said.
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized I couldn’t marry you.”
Embry stood up, pacing across the carpet. “Amelia, please. I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
He didn’t belong here. If he wasn’t going to throw her over, then he had no business in her house. “Why did you come?”
“To see you. To spend time with you.” He sat down beside her, taking her hands. “To put this nonsense between us to rights.”
Amelia pulled them back, scooting away to give herself more space on the settee. “My feelings are not nonsense.”
His face clouded at her retreat. “This difficulty between us is my fault.”
Not this again.
“I’ve given you too much time to think. The strain of all the preparations have caused you to doubt.”
“Hardly.”
He ignored her, scooting closer. “I thought by allowing you to hold off on selecting a date that I was allowing you time to adjust to your new social standing, but I’ve seen the error of my ways.”
A feeling of dread crept in. “Lord Montrose—”
“I’ve spoken with your mother, and we have chosen a date next month. Once we’re married, you can let all of this indecision go and devote yourself to the task of being my wife.”
He was utterly delusional. So was her mother. “I won’t marry you.”
“You will. Need I remind you of the lengths I am prepared to go to make you see sense?”
No, he didn’t need to remind her. Amelia was well aware of what was at stake.
His face darkened. “If you’re thinking Nicholas Wakefield will find some foolish scheme to disrupt our union, please disabuse yourself of the notion.”
“What does Nicholas have to do with anything?”
Embry took her hand again. His grip tightened when she tried to pull it back. “I know you harbor a great affection for each other, but I’ve written to the Marquess. Soon Wakefield will understand the impossibility of his position, and I don’t want you to be heartbroken when that happens.”
He’d written to Nicholas’s father? Amelia pulled away from his grip, but he held tight. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“It’s for your own good Amelia, and his.”
This time, when she pulled away, he let her go. “I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about, but I am quite certain, whatever it was, that you have grievously overstepped!”
“You’re my fiancée. It is my responsibility—”
“You have no rights where I am concerned.”
He stood up and took her by the shoulders. “I have every right, and I will dare whatever I must to keep you.”
His fingers bit into her shoulders and the hardness in his expression was extremely unsettling. Amelia’s anger drained away, replaced by fear. She took deep breaths, willing herself to stand still and keep her expression smooth.
“Mia, do you know where I left my—” Julia came through the parlor door. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”
Julia? She wasn’t nearly well enough to be walking around. Still, Amelia had never been gladder to see anyone in her life.
Embry’s hands fell away and a polite smile fell into place. “Not at all.”
“Excellent. You don’t mind if I steal my sister away, do you?”
He obviously did mind, but his manners wouldn’t allow him to say so.
Julia was already pulling Amelia through the door with a weak grip. “I’m afraid we’ll be busy for a while, but I’m certain Mother won’t mind keeping you company for the rest of your visit.”
They left Embry behind, making it to the stairs before Julia’s knees buckled and Amelia had to hold her up.
“You shouldn’t be up,” Amelia insisted. “What are you doing?”
“Nora was listening at the door for me.” Julia’s breathing was labored. “You should have told me he frightens you.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jules. You really shouldn’t be—”
Julia stopped her until they made it to the top of the stairs. “I wanted to be selfless. I wanted you to have a husband and a family but…not like this.”
The tension drained out of Amelia’s shoulders. They were only words, so they shouldn’t mean that much to her, but they did.
Julia smiled. “I’ve missed you all the time you were gone. I don’t think I could bear it if you left me for good, and I hate myself for it because I should be a better sister. A better person.”
“I’m not leaving you. Not ever.” Embry could do his worst.
“You might, eventually. Embry isn’t the only man in the world.”
Amelia shook her head. “I was so wrong about Embry. I can’t believe all the things I didn’t see. I won’t marry, ever. I won’t run the risk of being wrong again.”
“Mia.”
Amelia regained her senses. They were standing in the hallway, having an utterly private conversation where anyone could hear them. She led the way back to Julia’s room. “We can discuss it later. Right now, we need to get you back to bed and me out of this engagement.”
Julia nodded. “You should get into a fistfight at a ball. Or visit a gaming hell!”
Leave it to Julia to suggest only extreme solutions. Amelia had hoped to stay relatively within her comfort zone while convincing Embry to jilt her. “Don’t you think we could find something a little less—”
“Likely to succeed? Certainly. What color would you like me to wear to your wedding?”
Amelia sighed. “Fine. I can think of a few people I’d like to slap. Do we know of any gaming hells?”
Julia was asleep again, this time without any residual fever, when Amelia was summoned to the study by her father.
“Amelia. Sit down please.”
She sat. The atmosphere was much like the times she’d been called to task for something she and Julia had done, only this time Amelia had done it all on her own.
“Lord Montrose spoke with me before he left.” Lord Bishop pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “He’s asked me to forbid you to see Nicholas Wakefield anymore.”
“Was that all he said?” Convenient of him not to mention that he was blackmailing her.
“He feels quite passionately about it. Montrose believes Wakefield is a bad influence on you.”
“Papa, that’s ludicrous.”
“I agree. Much as it pains me to admit it, I am well aware it is the other way around. I tried to explain that to him, but he refused to see reason.”
“Yes, he does that.”
“He’s quite devoted to you.”
Too devoted. “I won’t stop being friends with Nicholas.”
“No, I don’t imagine you will. You two have been thick as thieves since you were children. Still, I’m concerned about you, Mia.”
“Because of the race in Hyde Park?”
Her father’s expression darkened. “Honestly, Mia. What on earth were you thinking?”
“Does it matter? What’s done is done.” She couldn’t tell him, but she refused to lie to him.
“Mia, it might not hurt if you saw a little less of Nicholas.” Her father fumbled with the pen on his desk. “Marriage lasts a very long time, and giving a little ground here and there can go a long way.”
Amelia looked her father in the eye. “Nicholas is the only person who stood by us, Papa. Don’t ask me to give him up.”
Lord Bishop sighed. “I won’t ask it of you. Just consider what I’ve said.”
“Thank you.” Amelia rose to leave.
“Was Montrose telling the truth? Did you truly win two hundred pounds in a wager?”
“I did.”
“And something about using children as hazards?”
Amelia choked out a laugh. “Not intentionally. Some boys wandered onto the track. Dio jumped them. She was amazing.”
“It sounds like you were amazing.”
“I appreciate that you think so, Papa.”
“I always will, darling.”
It was a good moment, one she hated to ruin with less pleasant matters, but something had to be done and there might not be a better time. She settled back into her chair. “Papa, we need to talk about Mother.”
“Is everything all right? She seemed fine when I saw her.”
There was no easy way to approach this. “Did you know that mother has given Nicholas the cut? He came to see me in London and she refused him entry.”
A frown creased his forehead. “That can’t be right.”
“It is,” Amelia insisted. “She also told Julia not to go to my engagement party.”
Lord Bishop frowned. “Your sister said she didn’t feel up for it.”
“Because Mother told her to say that. This engagement, the return to society, is turning Mother into someone else entirely.”
“I know she’s been exceptionally involved with your engagement and she can be trying sometimes, but—”
“Did you not wonder why I came on the train alone? Julia was sick, and Mother didn’t want to leave London.”
Suspicion tainted Lord Bishop’s expression. “Your mother enjoyed society a great deal, before we were forced to remove ourselves.”
“She enjoys it a great deal now. More, I lately suspect, than her affection for her children.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Lord Bishop sighed.
Amelia crossed her arms. “I’m not sure of it at all.”
Her father sighed. “I’ll speak to your mother. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
It wasn’t a misunderstanding and something had to be done about it. Amelia intended to rid herself of Embry and get her life back. That also meant returning her mother to someone Amelia recognized.
The walk to the Bishop house felt longer than ever, especially with his nerves causing Nick to perspire as if it were the height of summer. Amelia had to hear him out. She just had to.
Nick half expected to be turned away when he arrived, but was instead greeted by a very welcoming Mrs. Polk. “Lord, but it’s good to have everyone home—including you, Lord Nicholas. The house doesn’t feel right with Lady Amelia and Lady Bishop gone.”
“Was there something in particular that brought them back?” he asked.
“Och! You don’t know? Lady Julia took poorly.”
Oh no. “I’m sorry. I can come back another time.”
“No, no, no. She’s turned the corner now. Feeling much better, and I imagine Lady Amelia could use some cheering. She takes it so hard, you know, and you always make her feel better,” Mrs. Polk promised as she left to go find her.
Nick wasn’t certain of that—he just hoped she wouldn’t toss him out on his ear.
“Lord Nicholas. What are you doing here?” Lady Bishop stopped her path down the hall when she saw him through the open doorway of the parlor.
“I came to see Amelia.”
“She’s with Julia right now and I don’t think—”
“Nicholas!” Lord Bishop boomed. “No one told me you were here.”
“Just popping by to see Amelia.”
“Of course, of course.” Lord Bishop clapped him on the back. “I hear my wife has been playing a little trick on you in London, pretending to give you the cut.”
“Ah, I...” Nicholas had no idea what to say to that.
Lady Bishop didn’t, either. Her face was a picture of shock.
“You know, obviously, that it was only a jest. You are always welcome anywhere a Bishop hangs their hat.” There was an element of steel in Lord Bishop’s voice that Nicholas was starting to admire.
“Of course, Lord Bishop.”
“Anyhow,” the older man said. “Lady Bishop and I will leave you to it. Don’t let Mia get you into any more trouble. I’m sure Lord and Lady Wakefield are up in arms about that race fiasco.”
“I don’t think they’ve heard yet, but I’ll be sure to keep my wits about me.”
“Good man.” Lord Bishop led his wife out of the room with a firm hand on her arm.
Amelia came in as they left, not looking the least bit surprised at what passed between her parents.
“What was all that about?” he asked.
“My father has promised to rein my mother’s ridiculousness back to a manageable level.” Amelia collapsed in an unladylike puff of skirts onto the settee next to him. “Though how he’ll manage it, I don’t know. What are you doing back?”
“There was some trouble with my father. He’s getting worse.”
“I’m sorry, Nick.” Her hand closed over his. The warmth of it spread out across his entire body. She wasn’t screaming or giving him the cold shoulder. That was a good sign.
“And Julia? Mrs. Polk said you had a scare.”
Amelia blew out a sigh. “A couple of them. She’s all right now, but it’s been awful. Somehow it’s harder now that we’re grown. I still feel as powerless as I did when we were little, but I’m too old to run away and live in the woods.”
The first time Amelia had done that, Lord and Lady Bishop had been too busy with Julia to notice she was gone. Nick had noticed. He found her in a tree, crying and shivering. They stayed in the branches all night sharing his jacket and making up stories where the three of them featured as epic heroes overcoming insurmountable odds. The Wakefield search party found them in the morning when they came looking for Nicholas. They sent him to Eton shortly after.
Nicholas squeezed her hand. His decisions were his own now. No one would be sending him anywhere.
“We’ve made amends,” Amelia said, perking up. “Julia no longer wants me to marry Embry, and I couldn’t be happier to be in accord, even though the circumstances that brought it about were terrifying.”
He couldn’t help stiffening a little. “I heard Lord Montrose came to visit you. Did he have anything to say?”
“He only left an hour ago. How did you—don’t tell me. The all-knowing Lady Wakefield.” Amelia shook her head. “Yes. He had plenty to say, unfortunately.”
“Was any of it about me?”
Amelia’s eyes went wide. “How could your mother possibly know we talked about you?”
Damn, damn, damn. Montrose had told her. “This wasn’t how I wanted to do this, but please hear me out.”
“Nicholas.”
He slid off the couch and onto one knee. Nick took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “Amelia Bishop, will you marry me?”
She blinked. Amelia looked down at him. Her brown eyes were full of surprise but still warm. Still—dare he hope—loving? “Nick, you know I can’t.”
It stung, but he’d been prepared for her objection. He pulled the little book of sonnets and the letters that had best expressed his love from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You have known me almost your entire life, and I have not changed. I am still the boy who wrote you letters every day I was away—I just lost the courage to send them, because they would reveal how much I care for you.”
“Nick.”
“And this book. I bought it for you in Paris. It speaks my heart better than I can.”
She put the letters aside, holding the book gently, running her thumb down the spine and turning the pages. He watched her lips move faintly as she read the first sonnet.
“Please, Mia. Say you care for me, too.”
She looked at him again. There was a sheen of tears making the perfect brown of her eyes sparkle. “Of course I care for you.”
A giant weight lifted from Nicholas and he felt like he would float up through the ceiling. He pulled her to him and kissed her.
It was like touching lightning. All the tingles on earth, concentrated on one tiny point of contact. It hurt a little, feeling so much all at once. Amelia leaned into him, trying to spread it out across more of their bodies. Nicholas pressed against her, giving her the contact she craved. His tongue touched hers but it wasn’t a conquest, it was a question. She answered it with enthusiasm.
She slid her hands inside his jacket, feeling the warmth of his skin and solid strength of his muscles through the linen. Her hands ran across the planes of his chest, up to his shoulders. She heard him groan in response and it called to something within her that demanded she answer. Abandoning her exploration of his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Nicholas seemed to know what she was asking. He pulled her forward across the cushions, his thigh shifting to a position between her own and his mouth moved over hers in a more calculated fashion. Amelia lost track of everything except the feel of his lips against hers and the delicious pressure of him all over. She was so far gone, she didn’t understand when he lifted his head and pulled back.
Amelia looked up at him, finding adoration mixed with intensity and…Nick. Only Nick. The same Nick who’d tended orphan kittens with her in the barn and argued continental politics with her until they were both red in the face.
“Oh my,” she said quietly.
He smiled. His eyes memorized her face and hers did the same to his as his fingers came to rest against the side of her neck. He stroked, ever so softly.
Amelia’s lips parted of their own accord. There was still only a whisper’s distance between them.
“We’d better not.” His eyes traced the curve of her lips, undermining his words.
She couldn’t quite get her thoughts to order. It felt like they were the only two people in the universe. “Why?”
“It’s not proper.”
“I should hope not,” she said. “If there are proper things that feel like that and I’ve been missing them this entire time…”
Nick laughed. “We’ll want to think about the proper way to tell everyone, instead of letting ourselves be discovered.”
Tell everyone? Had he gone completely mad? Oh. Oh no. “I told you, Nick. I can’t marry you.”
He froze. “But you kissed me back.”
“I did.” Amelia smiled. And this was the part that hurt. “I like kissing you. I like you and I would like to do a great deal more than kiss you. But I can’t marry you.”
“Then what—”
She could almost feel the pain radiating off him. Amelia took a deep breath. The scandals of the past few weeks couldn’t hold a candle to what she was about to say. Even thinking it was exhilarating. “I think we should have an affair.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Of course I am. It’s the perfect solution. I can stay here with Julia, and you and I can—”
“Can what? Live in sin? Disgrace our families?” Nick set her away from him, standing up to pace the room. “This is ludicrous.”
The anger in his voice hurt. Amelia had expected him to take some convincing, but she’d thought he would at least consider it. She tried to explain. “Nicholas, think how nice it could be. We care for each other. We’re attracted to each other.”
“Then marry me.”
“No!” Amelia regretted raising her voice, but he wasn’t listening. “I don’t want to marry. I don’t—”
“Do you think you don’t know me?” Nicholas challenged. “Do you think I’m going to change suddenly?”
The answer to that was complicated. He was Nick—he was always Nick. But these feelings she had for him were so new, and for him to suddenly declare feelings for her after years of saying nothing... He was the same, but their relationship had changed. “Of course I know you, but—”
His face clouded over. His entire posture went stiff. “But you can’t marry me. So it’s not a matter of knowing me.”
“Nick.” Amelia ached to see him shut her out.
His movements were jerky, like he wasn’t entirely aware of himself. “You accepted Montrose’s proposal and he was a complete stranger to you. But he was a titled stranger.” He picked up the packet of letters and tucked them back into his jacket. He refused to look at her while he prepared to leave. “He wasn’t a second son, stupid enough to silently devote himself to you for twelve years, hoping you might someday see his value.”
Twelve years. What did he mean? Amelia went to him, reaching for him. He had it all wrong. If he would only listen, she could explain. “That’s not it at all. I just… I do see your value, Nick.”
“As a contingency plan. As a pale replacement for a husband,” he spat out. He pulled her hand from his chest, setting it back at her side as he stepped around her.
“Nick!” She moved to stop him but he shook her off. “Don’t you dare leave. I know you’re upset, but we’re not done discussing this.”
He kept his back turned to her. The rigid line of his shoulders was formidable. “No, thank you. I think I’ve played the fool long enough.”
And then he was gone.
Amelia sat down hard on the settee. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, shaking her head. This was not happening. She had not reunited with Julia only to lose Nick moments later.
And how could he be so stupid? How could he think so little of her, that she of all people would give two damns about a bloody title? His pride might be hurt, but she expected better from him. He was supposed to be her friend. If he truly meant the things he’d said, then he didn’t know her at all. They had no business in a marriage or an affair if that was what he thought of her.
She was well rid of him.
Amelia told herself she meant it. She ignored how much it hurt to watch him walk away from her. Ignored that she was still clasping the cushions in a death-grip to keep from chasing after him and telling him how sorry she was.
Good riddance, Nicholas Wakefield.