Chapter Five
They were sitting at breakfast when Jasper leaned surreptitiously across the table.
“I think there’s something amiss with your mother,” he said under his breath, using his glass to shield his lips.
Nicholas looked over. Sure enough, his mother was rigid as a board at the far end of the table, staring at the post like it had turned into a viper ready to strike. It was nice having Jasper there to sit across from him in Philip’s old chair. Without him, it had just been the three of them, sitting what felt like miles apart in total silence.
Jasper kicked him under the table.
Sneaking another sideways glance, Nick saw she still hadn’t moved. “Is something the matter, Mother?”
She continued to stare at the card sitting in front of her, oblivious to the question.
Lord Wakefield stuck his head over the paper from the opposite end. “Lavinia.”
Lady Wakefield shook herself, looking up at them all as if they’d only just arrived.
“Is something amiss?” Lord Wakefield called, actually going to the trouble of setting his paper down. It was one of the good days and he was back to being himself. For the moment.
“The Bishops,” she explained, spitting the word, “have invited us to their daughter’s engagement party.”
“That’s a bit short notice, isn’t it?” Since there was no imminent national or familial crisis, Lord Wakefield returned to his periodical.
“As if that was the most offensive thing about it!”
“If you don’t want to go, refuse.”
In all his life, Nicholas had only seen his mother lose her refinement when the Bishops were involved. It was part of the reason he’d sought them out. As he watched her sputter and glare at his father now, it was everything Nicholas could do not to smile. It didn’t last long, though. Nicholas realized his mother now had more reason than spite to refuse. Had they entertained any invitations since his father became ill? They certainly hadn’t since he’d been home. Soon the Wakefields would find themselves as isolated as the Bishops.
“Of course I shall refuse. Honestly, Arthur.” She sifted through the stack, her face growing even more pinched. “Lord Bellamy, I believe you’ve received one as well.”
“Excellent! I do love a good party.”
Lady Wakefield recovered her decorum and handed a piece of ivory cardstock to one of the footmen, who set down the pitcher he was holding to transfer it to Jasper. “I didn’t realize you and Amelia Bishop were acquainted.”
“Oh yes, we’re the best of friends.”
And that was the nicest thing Jasper could possibly have done for Amelia—and by extension, Nick. Regardless of how much Nicholas’s mother hated the Bishops, she would not deliberately offend a duke’s heir.
“Nicholas, will you accompany me? I believe the invitation is for both of us.”
He took a page from Jasper’s earlier method and kicked him. His mother might not be looking quite so murderous, but it was still an exceptionally sore subject.
Jasper raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think so, no. I suspect I’ll be too busy.” One was always too busy to celebrate the engagement of the love of one’s life to another man.
“Certainly you can make time. You do wish her all happiness in her marriage, don’t you, Nick?” Jasper’s expression was wickedly calculated.
Suddenly, both of Nick’s parents were paying keen attention to their exchange.
“You’re her oldest friend,” Jasper insisted. “It would appear quite strange if you didn’t go and give your blessing. What might Lord Montrose think? Or the rest of the guests?”
“Jas,” Nick warned.
“Don’t you think that could give the wrong impression, Lady Wakefield?” Jasper turned his most charming smile on her.
His mother was immune to Jasper’s charm but not, apparently, to his implications. “Obviously, you must go, Nicholas. Even though it would be ludicrous, we mustn’t give the gossipmongers any reason to start up.”
It was far from ludicrous and everyone at the table—never mind most of the county—knew it.
After his parents had left to pursue their separate interests for the day, Nicholas threw down his napkin. “What the bloody hell was that?”
“Hmm?”
“You know why I can’t go, but now you’ve trapped me into it.” Going to that party would be about as enjoyable as attending his own execution. Every time Montrose spoke to her, touched her, every time someone congratulated them and wished them many happy, healthy children…
“Yes, I do know why you don’t want to go.” Jasper sipped his coffee. “And it’s why I think you should. You might be willing to push down your feelings and commit yourself to a life of misery, but I want better for you, Nicholas Wakefield.”
“Nothing will come of me going to the party. It won’t change anything.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
He had everything to worry about, not the least of which being that he might end up tossing Amelia over his shoulder and running off with her like some cave-dwelling barbarian.
“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t do it solely to torture you. You said yourself her sister won’t be there. She needs you.”
Nicholas spent the rest of his morning damning Jasper De Vere to hell and back, because he was right.
Bravery wasn’t Amelia’s strong suit. Julia was the one who egged her into doing things she couldn’t bear to do. Julia was the one who made her stand up to her fears. But Julia couldn’t help her with this. It had been three days and they still hadn’t spoken to each other.
She went to the keepsakes box on her dressing table, digging through the dried flowers and scraps of ribbon until she found a small piece of paper with a wax seal on it. The raised parts of the seal were worn down from years of her thumb brushing across their edges, but it didn’t matter. She knew what it was; the seal of the Marquess of Wakefield.
One summer day when she was ten, all three of them had gone to town together—Amelia, Julia, and Nicholas. It had started as such a wonderful outing. But then one of the ladies of the county had seen them buying ribbons. She was horrible. She’d insisted the shop owner refuse Amelia and Julia service, that they were disgraceful, and he’d done as she asked. It was the single most mortifying experience of Amelia’s life. They’d done nothing to deserve it. Nothing beyond existing. They were only children.
The next day Nicholas had come to visit, and he’d brought her a small piece of paper, stamped with the Marquess’s seal on one side and writing on the other. It read:
Lady Amelia Bishop is the bravest, most honorable woman in England.
The house of Wakefield is eternally devoted to her happiness and welfare.
It was in Nicholas’s handwriting, of course. Julia had received one as well. He must have snuck in and used his father’s seal when no one was looking. He’d told Amelia she couldn’t possibly be disgraceful. That the Lords of Wakefield were pillars of respectability, and if she ever had difficulty holding her head high, to remember that she carried their seal of approval.
She re-rolled the paper, like she’d done a hundred times, and wrapped a section of hair around it until it was hidden at the base of her neck. There would be a number of people at the engagement party who didn’t think she was good enough for Embry. Amelia could use all the encouragement she could get.
All the help she could get. Damn. She left her room, making the short trip down the hallway to Julia’s room. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
The skirt of her gown swished against the doorframe as she moved past it.
“Oh,” Julia said, looking up from the easel where she was painting a scene of the garden below. “It’s you.”
“It’s me.” Amelia stood still by the end of the bed, studying the exotic animals embroidered in sweeping scenes across the canopy fabric. Julia hadn’t insisted she leave, but any sudden movement might break the fragile peace.
Her sister looked her dress over with a frown. “You don’t like pink, or that style.”
“It’s the only one I have that doesn’t look awful with Embry’s necklace.”
The corner of Julia’s mouth twitched. “It’s a beautiful necklace.”
“For someone.”
Damn. Awkward silence filled the space between them. It made Amelia sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t have said anything about the necklace not suiting her, but they had never not been able to be honest with each other. A tear built up and escaped down her cheek.
Julia sighed, setting down her brush and moving to sit on the end of the bed. “It’s all right, Mia.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Fine, it’s not all right. But that’s all right.”
Amelia sniffled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yes, it does.” Julia sighed. “Do I wish I was the one with the handsome suitor, getting ready to announce my engagement to all and sundry? Of course. But I’m not, and since I can’t be, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”
“What if I don’t want it to be me?”
Embry was a stranger. All she truly knew was that he wanted to marry her and he liked to read. She didn’t know how many children he hoped to have, whether he preferred life in the country to life in London, how his family felt about his engagement to one of the scandalous Bishops. So much could change once they married. He would be her husband. Her whole future would be in his hands. Amelia didn’t even know what type of books he liked.
Julia’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t yell. “Don’t be a coward, Mia.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Stop waiting for life to happen. It’s here and it’s happening. To you. Enjoy it.”
Enjoy it, like it was that simple. And it was, for Julia, but it had never been that way for Amelia. She’d never wanted anything beyond life in the Berkshires with her family.
“What if I can’t?”
“Learn. This time next year, if we’re both still here placidly marching toward spinsterhood, I will never forgive you.”
She wouldn’t, either. Julia could hold a grudge for eternity if she set her mind to it. Amelia wiped her eyes with the back of her gloves and sighed. “I wish you’d come down.”
Julia shook her head. “I won’t be far, and you know I’m happy for you. You don’t need me there.”
Amelia disagreed, but even if she didn’t need Julia, she wanted her. No one else mattered nearly as much. “Will you wait up for me?”
“Of course.” Julia tugged on one of her curls, careful not to dislodge the pins. “Who else am I going to get every last detail from?”
Amelia groaned. “I’m being punished. Twice.”
“Mm-hmm.” Julia leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’m far too spoiled to be unhappy by myself.”
“Tyrant.”
Julia nudged her with a slippered foot. “Go on. You have a party to host.”
Amelia left feeling better, but she still couldn’t muster up anything close to excitement. There was something fundamentally wrong with her. She was announcing her engagement. She should be happy, but all she wanted was for it to be over.
Seeing the house filled with guests was an unsettling experience for Nicholas. Every time a belled skirt or the tails of a gentleman’s coat brushed some piece of furniture he’d played on as a child, he had to stop himself from yelling at them all that they didn’t belong there. And that was before he ever saw Amelia.
She looked lovely. She also looked extremely uncomfortable. As he sipped his punch, yet another stranger touched her elbow and she flinched, covering it with a smile. His fingers tightened on the glass.
“Steady, now.” Jasper peered around the room as if nothing was amiss.
Nicholas said under his breath, “It’s no good, Jas. I can’t do it.”
“You can and you will.”
Nick’s argument was disrupted by a hush falling over the half of the room closest to the door. The last two people he’d have ever expected appeared at the entrance of the ballroom. Lord and Lady Wakefield stood there, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Amelia had.
“What the devil?” Jasper whispered.
Lord Bishop was the first to recover. “Lord Wakefield. Lady Wakefield. So good of you to come.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Lady Wakefield said with perfect formality.
“Why—”
“They’re here to check up on me,” Nicholas told Jasper. “They must not have trusted I wouldn’t do something rash.”
“Well, that’s not very sporting of them.”
His parents made their way toward him, exchanging greetings with their acquaintances on the way. “Nicholas.”
“Lord Wakefield. Lady Wakefield. I hadn’t expected to see you here.”
“Your father and I thought it would be nice to get out of the house for a change.”
They were there to make sure Nicholas behaved himself; anything else they said was a blatant lie. Nicholas could only assume they hadn’t told him they were coming sooner because his mother couldn’t be certain Lord Wakefield would be in his right mind when the time came.
“Lord and Lady Wakefield.” Lord Montrose joined their group, bowing over Lady Wakefield’s offered hand. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure since Duke Atherton’s dinner party two seasons ago. We never got to finish our discussion on foreign relations with the Americans.”
There was no reason the sound of the man’s voice should make Nicholas furious. No reason at all, except that he was stealing the love of Nicholas’s life. Keep it together, Wakefield.
“I’m not much for the social whirl these days,” Lord Wakefield admitted. “Getting stagnant in my old age, but we conservatives have to stick together else the Whigs will have us all firmly to hell in a hand basket.”
Montrose laughed. “Quite so.”
Lord Wakefield clapped Nick on the shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection. “Are you acquainted with my youngest son?”
“By reputation only.” Lord Montrose nodded to Nick. “Although I feel as if I’ve known you for years. Amelia speaks highly of you.”
“And you,” Nicholas managed.
“Nicholas couldn’t be happier Lady Amelia has made such a wonderful match,” Lady Wakefield offered on Nick’s behalf.
Beside him, Jasper started choking on his punch. “Please excuse me. I appear to be having some difficulty.”
Nicholas imagined a thousand tortures as Jasper made his escape.
“So Montrose,” Lord Wakefield asked. “Where will you and your bride be staying once you’re married?”
While his parents were suitably distracted discussing how far away they could ship Amelia once she married, Nicholas made his escape as well. Everyone was focused on the happy couple, so no one batted an eye when he snuck out and up the stairs to find the one person besides Amelia he could count on to understand his misery.
When Lord Bellamy appeared beside her with two glasses in hand, Amelia had never been so happy to see someone in all her life. “Thank goodness.”
“How are you holding up?” Jasper asked her.
“Not well. There are so many people here, and I don’t know any of them.”
“Bold maneuver, inviting Lord and Lady Wakefield.”
“They’re here, too?” Amelia scowled. “It must have been Mother’s doing. She invited all sorts of people I’ve never even heard of. She’s desperate to rub everyone’s noses in my excellent match.”
To be honest, Amelia didn’t mind rubbing Lady Wakefield’s nose in the match a little. Nicholas’s mother had only ever come to the Bishop residence once, right after Nick had finished at Eton. She’d declared in no uncertain terms that her son would not be entertaining any romantic notions with a Bishop while she was alive. Not that it had been necessary to declare such a thing, but Nicholas’s mother had always been a little high strung.
“Apparently, Lord and Lady Wakefield are old friends with your fiancé.”
“Of course they are.” As far as Amelia could tell, Embry was friends with everyone in the British empire. The rest of her life flashed in front of her eyes; surrounded by strangers and bored to tears. For a second, the room wobbled as faintness stole the strength from her knees.
Two young women were standing a few feet away and scrutinizing her with an appalling lack of subtlety as they whispered behind their hands. At first, she thought they’d seen her falter, but then she heard what sounded like “horribly disfigured.”
Amelia would put up with a great deal, but not that. Never that. “Can I help you with something?”
They leaned together whispering before the older girl looked her over. She drew her fan through her hand—what had Julia said that meant? Something that wasn’t nice, but Amelia couldn’t remember exactly what.
“It’s a shame your sister couldn’t make it, though I can see why you hid her away. It must be so embarrassing.”
Amelia froze. By the time she shook herself out of it, Lord Bellamy had steered her away and over to the other side of the room.
“Did she…I—”
“Shh. Don’t make a scene for that vicious twit. Are you all right?”
She took a deep breath, brushing her fingers against the tightly rolled cylinder at her hairline. “Do you know who those women are?”
“Unfortunately. Olivia and Charlotte Chisholm, your fiancé’s cousins.”
Unbelievable. Relatives of Embry’s. Not only could she not go back and tell them how horrible they were, she would be stuck with those pit vipers for the rest of her life.
Starting right then. Embry had moved on from the Wakefields and was motioning for her to join him with his cousins. Amelia could think of nothing she wanted to do less.
“Another bold move, and this one you cannot blame on your mother.”
“Hmm?” Amelia was too busy glaring at the Chisholms.
“Blatantly ignoring the summons of one’s fiancée at one’s own engagement party. People are definitely starting to notice.”
Amelia looked around. Damn. He was right. Embry was frowning and the guests around him were definitely looking at her.
“Don’t make me go.”
“I would never. I love a good scene.”
Amelia swore under her breath. She excused herself to the sound of Jasper chuckling behind her.
“Lady Olivia. Miss Charlotte. May I introduce my fiancé, Miss Amelia Bishop?”
“We’ve met.” Amelia might not be able to avoid them, but she would be damned if she’d pretend to be cordial.
“Oh?”
Lady Olivia’s smile was pure ice. “We were asking her where her sister was. We were so looking forward to an introduction.”
“She’s not feeling well,” he lied.
Did he know, or was that just what her mother had told him?
Miss Charlotte joined the fray. “Isn’t she sick all the time? What difference does that make?”
Miss Olivia shuddered. “Can you imagine? What a burden.”
Embry frowned. “She’s a nice enough girl, if a bit limited.”
Limited? Amelia stared at Embry in disbelief.
“What a shame she couldn’t be here,” Charlotte said with transparent glee. “Although, can you imagine being overshadowed at your own engagement party by a cripple? Poor cousin Embry wouldn’t have a moment’s peace. It’s probably a relief.”
He stared down at his glass. “It is, a little.”
The sounds of the party went hazy in Amelia’s ears. “Embry?”
He had the decency to look uncomfortable. “I only mean, it’s easier. Not having to explain to everyone.”
Amelia felt the flush rising over her face. The giggles of Olivia and Charlotte drifted to her like they were coming through water. It was hard to breathe. Embry might have tried to say something, but she was already excusing herself, pushing her way through the throng and out into the hall.
Nick made his way to the room he knew was Julia’s. He’d had his own tree-climbing adventures, although—unlike Amelia—sense had prevailed and he’d restricted himself to the front doors by the time he turned twelve. He knocked quietly.
“Go away.”
It was definitely Julia’s voice. He ignored the sentiment and stepped inside. “I’d almost forgotten what the palace looked like. When did you get the elephants?” Nick brushed his hand across the backs of the waist-high gold sculptures as he crossed the room.
She turned in surprise, but then turned back to staring out at the garden below from the window seat. “Papa had them sent from India last year.”
“Another continent conquered by Lady Julia’s collection.” He sat opposite her, his back against the wall. She refused to look at him, so there was nothing stopping him from looking at her in detail.
If he was being objective, she was prettier than her sister. Julia’s features were perfectly classical, where Amelia’s were softer and slightly out of proportion. Not that it had ever mattered. From the first day he’d met Amelia Bishop, Nick hadn’t been able to see anyone else. Her lips might not make a perfect pout, but there was a genuineness to her smiles that spoke to Nick’s soul. Amelia took a quiet joy in the world that echoed his own. Julia was never content to sit still, never able to settle happily into silent contemplation. As a friend, Nick had a deep respect for Julia’s intelligence and sharp wit, but it was Amelia’s gentleness that had stolen his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“That you and I never fell in love with each other. We’d both be weathering today much better if we had.”
Julia laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Fat lot of good it would have done. Amelia was born perfect and you still can’t face your parents for her. Your spine’s even worse off than mine.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. They settled for looking out the window in silence together.
“How’s the party?” she asked after a while.
“Awful.”
This time, her laugh had warmth. “Do the guests that aren’t you think that?”
“Probably not. Dolts.”
Her skirts rustled as she shifted over to his side of the platform. Nick lifted his arm, and she settled under it. This was how he knew. When Amelia leaned against him for comfort, every nerve in his body cried out in elation. In rightness. When Julia leaned against him, it only felt vaguely pleasant.
“I’m sorry my sister is marrying the wrong man.”
“No, you’re not.” He waited for her to say something else cutting, but it didn’t come.
Instead, she wiggled closer. “If it were a fair fight, I’d be on your side.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you, for saying what you said. We’d be awful together, but thank you.”
“We wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life losing at chess and horse races to your wife?”
Nicholas grinned. “How is that any different than me marrying Amelia?”
“She’s rubbish at chess.”
“Excellent rider, though.”
“Not better than me,” Julia said, sounding more like herself.
It was a subject of much debate between the sisters, but now wasn’t the time to argue Amelia’s side. Nick pressed a brotherly kiss to Julia’s forehead. “Not better than you.”
A shudder went through her, followed by a sniffle. Nick squeezed his arm around her shoulder tighter. There was nothing he could say. Nothing either of them could say.
When it passed, she inhaled a deep breath. “I’m not ready to lose her.”
“Neither am I.”
They sat there, taking comfort in each other’s presence as the garden lights flickered.
Eventually, Julia nudged him with her elbow. “You should go back down. People will notice you’re gone.”
“Wouldn’t that be the scandal of the century?” he said with a grin as he stood up, stretching the stiffness out of his limbs.
“Oh, to be at the center of a torrid scandal,” Julia said dreamily.
“Someday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Get out of my room, Wakefield.”
He left with a grin on his face and a much lighter step than he’d entered with—until he came down the stairs to find Amelia in the hallway, bent at the waist, taking deep, heaving breaths of panic.
“Mia? What’s the matter? What’s happened?”
She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “E-e-e-mbry…he said…awful things,” she choked out, before dissolving into more sobs.
Nicholas would kill the bastard. It was one thing to sit nobly by while she married a man who had a chance at making her happy, but Amelia was clearly not happy.
“It’s all right. Everything will be fine.” Nicholas’s arms wrapped around her by reflex. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt helpless.
“You two had better not be getting all calf-eyed again.” Jasper came around the corner. “Bloody hell. What’s happened?”
“You were there, you tell me. Apparently, Montrose is responsible. Will you stay with her? There’s something I have to do.” Specifically, beat the man to a pulp.
Amelia grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t. Your p-parents. You know what people will say.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Yes, you do.”
Jasper looked between the two of them. “Well?”
If he rushed back into the ballroom and called Montrose out, it would be the talk of the county. The talk of London as well. Nicholas swore. “She’s right. I can’t.”
“Right. It’s to me, then.” He turned on his heel and went back the way he came.
It wasn’t long before a collection of screams and shocked gasps rang out. Nicholas raced down the hallway with Amelia in tow. They arrived in time to see Montrose being helped up off the floor, holding his jaw. One of the men Nicholas didn’t know was restraining Jasper by his shoulders.
“What the devil?” Lord Bishop shouted.
“Tapped him on the shoulder and decked him,” someone said from behind him.
“A lodestone for scandal, that Lord Bellamy. You’d think a duke’s heir would behave better,” someone else said.
“Shall I expect a call from your second?” Jasper asked, not caring who heard.
Montrose finally caught sight of Amelia, taking in her red complexion and puffy eyes. His face fell. “No. I was in the wrong. I thank you for pointing it out to me.”
That set off a tidal wave of speculation that filled the entire room with murmuring.
Beside him, Amelia was finally coming back to herself. She pulled her hand from his. “I think you’d better take Lord Bellamy and go.”
They couldn’t be seen holding hands, but he couldn’t help reaching for her. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine now.” Amelia stepped away from him, speaking up over the crowd. “In fact, I think you should all take your leave. There’s been quite enough excitement for one party.”
Lady Bishop rushed forward. “Amelia.”
“I mean it, Mother. The party is over. Thank you, everyone, for coming.”
There was nothing else to do but collect Jasper from his captor and head for the door.
“I can’t believe you hit him,” Nicholas said as they collected their hats.
“I can’t believe you didn’t.” Jasper slung his coat over his shoulder and sauntered out to the drive.
Amelia closed the door to the drawing room. The last of the guests were having their carriages brought around, and it was just her and Embry in the one room that hadn’t been taken over by the engagement madness. She picked up a book with almost every page corner folded over, one of her favorites. Even Julia enjoyed it. They read it aloud when there was nothing better to do.
Embry was watching her, but she didn’t know what to say to him. Someone had found him a cold compress for his face. A terrible part of her hoped they hadn’t found it soon enough. She wouldn’t mind watching him try to explain a bruise.
“I’m sorry, Amelia. I shouldn’t have agreed with my cousins when they were being cruel about your sister.”
She nodded. He certainly shouldn’t have.
“You’re perfectly right to be upset. She’ll be my sister, too, once we’re wed, and it’s my duty to—”
Amelia set the book down. “I don’t think we should get married.”
The words fell out of her mouth before she realized what she intended to say, but once they were out there she didn’t want to take them back. They felt right. She didn’t want to marry Embry.
“Amelia, don’t be rash. I behaved badly, but I am sorry.” Embry reached for her.
She moved out of his reach. “I’m not being rash. I don’t think we suit each other.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was one mistake! It’s not reason enough to break off an engagement.”
“I disagree.” Here in this room, surrounded by the little pieces of history from the life she loved with her family, Amelia didn’t feel ridiculous at all. “And it’s not my only reason. It’s just the most recent one.”
Confusion washed over his face, followed by a dawning realization. “Wakefield. You have feelings for him.”
“What?”
He couldn’t possibly know about her tingle dilemma, so he had no business making that sort of accusation. Friendship and a general sort of curiosity about what kissing him might be like were no grounds for that.
“Your mother warned me there was likely more to it than childhood affection.”
Her mother. Could that woman not leave well enough alone? “Nicholas and I are just friends.”
Embry shook his head. “Not anymore. I saw him holding your hand when you came into the ballroom. His intentions can’t be honorable, given his behavior, and it is my duty as your future husband to save you from these sorts of grievous errors in judgement.”
“You’re not going to be my husband. I’m calling off our engagement.”
His face stiffened with resolve. “No. I won’t accept it.”
“You don’t have a choice!” Thank goodness she was finding out about this high-handed behavior now, and not after she’d made the mistake of marrying him. To think she’d almost left her family for this.
“I think I do. If you break off our engagement, I shall sue you for breach of promise.”
Amelia stepped back, shock taking over her face. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would, to save you from yourself.”
Of all the pompous, asinine sentiments. She didn’t need saving. “Fine. Do it. Papa has plenty of money.”
Embry sighed. “He won’t when I’m finished with him. Public opinion is not in your favor. I will take your parents for everything they’re worth, and once you’ve experienced the cold reality of poverty and what it means for your family, especially for your sister, you’ll see sense.”
Amelia couldn’t be hearing him correctly. “You’re threatening to hold my family hostage?”
“Please, Amelia. I don’t want to do it, but you’re clearly not thinking rationally.”
She couldn’t breathe. It didn’t take much imagination to envision how awful things would be for Julia without the insulating benefits of wealth. They would not be able to hide away from the cruel and malicious opinions of general society. The specialists Papa hired would be impossible to afford. Any and all hope of someday discovering a progressive solution would be gone.
Amelia sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. “You don’t want to do this, Embry. You deserve someone who wants to marry you.”
“You’re young. This is cold feet and it will pass.” He put his hands on her shoulders and this time she was too shocked to move away. “I know you’re angry with me, but in time you’ll see that I’m doing the right thing.”
The words hummed around her in her ears, distorted.
“You’ll see. Once you’ve spent some time away from your sister, you won’t even miss her anymore.”
She stared at the painting Julia had made of Dionysia for Amelia two birthdays ago. The colors blurred as tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to fall. It was a nightmare. She was in a nightmare, and any minute she would wake up.
By the time Amelia made it back upstairs, Julia was practically climbing the wainscoting. She was frantically checking the windows on both walls when Amelia came into her room.
“What happened? Why did everyone leave early? I heard a scream earlier.”
“Lord Bellamy hit Embry.”
Julia’s eyes flew wide. “Why?”
Why, indeed. “Embry is not the man we thought he was.”
If anything, her sister’s eyes managed to get even wider. “What on earth happened?”
Amelia collapsed on the chaise in a puff of silk. “Embry’s cousins are awful.”
“Awful how?”
“If they worked for us, we would let Papa fire them and we wouldn’t feel at all badly about it.”
It was all the explanation Julia needed. “But that’s not Embry. So his family is horrid. That’s not the end of the world.”
“He just stood there,” Amelia shouted. “And he agreed with them!”
The frown on her sister’s face was difficult to read. Julia couldn’t want Amelia to marry so badly that she would accept his complicity in his cousin’s behavior, could she? Years of helping Julia hold mock-debuts, imaginary introductions to the royal family, and playing the role of a handsome duke during make-believe piled up in Amelia’s throat, making it difficult to breathe. That was what Julia wanted, but she wouldn’t force it on Amelia. They knew each other better than that.
“I told Embry I couldn’t marry him.”
“Oh, Mia.” Disapproval dragged down the corners of Julia’s mouth.
“But he wouldn’t accept it. He said he’s going to sue Papa into poverty if I don’t marry him.” Amelia waited for Julia’s enraged outburst.
It didn’t come. Instead, her sister took a deep breath and nodded. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
“What?” Certainly she hadn’t heard her right.
“Now there’s no way to back out. You can stop second-guessing yourself. You’re going to be Lady Montrose. It’s time to start taking it seriously.”
Julia was actually taking Embry’s side.
For the first time in Amelia’s life, she felt completely, truly alone. Everything they’d shared, the impenetrable partnership their father joked about, was a lie. Her life was all about what everyone else wanted. Amelia could accept it from their mother, from Embry, but Julia? A nauseating ache took up residence in her gut.
“Mother will be thrilled. She can stop sending herself into hysterics, worrying he’s going to call it off. It’s obvious that’s not going to happen if he’s willing to take Papa to court to keep you.”
The last bit broke through Amelia’s despair. She was on her own, but that didn’t mean she had to give up and accept her fate.
What would she have to do to make herself undesirable to Embry?
It wouldn’t be easy. She needed to think it through, alone. Amelia didn’t need Julia figuring out what she was up to and trying to sabotage her plan. “I’m going to bed.”
“Mia. Please don’t be mad. I only meant—”
“It’s all right,” Amelia said, rushing to the door in a flurry of silk. “It’s been a long day. Good night.”
If Julia responded, Amelia didn’t hear it. She was already down the hall with a half-formed plan in mind. Without Julia’s help, she was going to need all of her concentration to pull it off.
Because it had to work.
She wasn’t going to marry Embry, or anyone else for that matter. Amelia liked her life exactly the way it had always been, and she wasn’t going to let anyone change it.