Page 53 of The Baron’s Reluctant Bride (Marriage Mart Scandals #4)
By morning, Amelia awoke with a refreshed state of mind. Even as she got ready for breakfast, she decided to focus on the one thing she was sure would make the day bearable. When she got the slightest chance to, she’d retreat to somewhere private with her violin and play the afternoon away.
“Miss, you seem more excited than you did when I helped you get ready for bed,” her lady maid, Rachel, commented. Her skilled hands deftly braided the young miss’s hair into a plait, brushing stray tendrils to fold in with the rest of the hair.
Amelia chuckled. “Oh, Rachel, do not allow my expression to fool you. I already dread the exhaustion the day promises to bring. However, I believe it is in my best interest to focus on that. I shall find time today to play the violin. Hopefully, I can escape without anyone noticing or missing my presence.”
Rachel smiled. “Very well then, Miss. Mind you be careful then.”
“I always am,” Amelia replied with a nod. As soon as her lady had completed her task arranging her hair, she inspected herself in the mirror and smiled at her reflection.
Outside, in the midst of everyone else, she might feel left out or unnoticed. But here, in the solitude of her room, she could be herself. She could see herself for who she was beyond just being the Viscount’s daughter with so many expectations hanging on her shoulders.
In this place, she was afforded the rare comfort of being merely Amelia, a truth that proved quite calming for her spirit.
She headed out of her room and started down the long hallway that led to the stairs, taking her time to look at the portraits that lined the familiar walls.
When she finally reached the breakfast room doors, she stopped to brace herself. Beyond those doors lay expectations, the measure of which she often questioned if she could ever achieve. Either way, she couldn’t run from them.
With a prepared sigh, she gave a curt nod to the footman, and he swung into prompt action, pushing the doors open for her.
Amelia walked in with her hands clenched at her sides and her heart picking its pace up.
“Good morning, everyone.” She glided her hands over her skirts as all eyes lifted to acknowledge her. “I apologize for my delay.” She cracked a hesitant smile and allowed her eyes to register everyone at the table.
“Amelia, darling, did you have a good night’s rest?” The Duchess asked with a warm smile.
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Her feet quickly scrambled towards the seat next to Emma and she lowered herself onto it. Across from her was her sister, Caroline, and her husband.
“Father. Mother.” She greeted her parents in a warm tone. They were seated at one end of the table, next to Lady Felton.
“You look well rested, dear,” her father pointed out.
“I am, Father. Thank you.”
Her eyes shifted and landed on Lord Felton, who sent a charming smile her way. His eyes didn’t waver, his gaze intense and… flirtatious? Amelia couldn’t decide on the last part.
Soon, the room filled with the buzz of chatter about the upcoming party.
Amelia busied herself with her choice of breakfast, but something told her Lord Felton’s eyes remained on her while she ate. A sweat attempted to break out over her brow, and she silently prayed he would divert his attention elsewhere.
“I shall wear one of my favourite light green gowns for the party,” Emma said on the subject of apparel choices.
“Dear, neither of the gowns we just got from the modiste are light green. Whatever could you be speaking of?” The Duchess asked her daughter.
Emma hesitated and then shrugged a shoulder. “It is one that I’ve never worn before and I think I should wear it for the party.”
The Duchess frowned. “Nonsense, dear. You shall pick one of the options we have just procured from the modiste. They are quite becoming on you.”
Emma stayed mute, but Amelia caught the dejected expression in her eyes. A wistful smile spread across her lips. She gently nudged her cousin in the side, and Emma angled her face to her with a blank expression on it.
“If it’s any consolation, I think the colour green really suits you,” Amelia told her.
Emma’s face lit up. “Thank you.”
Amelia’s smile widened. She caught Lord Felton’s gaze on her again and her cheeks heated up instantly. Was there something on her face today? If so, Emma would have said something, right? What was it that made Lord Felton so keen on her this morning?
She turned her focus back to her breakfast, allowing herself to engage in the small talk that floated around the table.
“You know, Amelia, your sister and aunt were talking about you performing a piece at the party,” Lady Creswell mentioned unexpectedly, oblivious to the growing discomfort her daughter was experiencing.
“I mean with such musical talents and expertise in playing the violin and pianoforte, you would gain the admiration of several young gentlemen, without a doubt.” The Viscountess’s tone held all the pride it could.
If it had been any other circumstance, Amelia would have soaked up the attention, and maybe not have felt as exposed with all eyes on her.
She stared at her mother quite aghast for a few seconds and only collected herself when Emma nudged her side.
“Uh, mama, I am quite certain there will be distinguished performers at the party. I do not have to play myself,” Amelia mumbled.
“But mama is indeed correct. Do not you want to be wedded, sister?” Caroline asked. Her tone was hardly judgmental, but Amelia couldn’t help but believe she was looking down on her. “Your musical talents might just be the very thing to attract more gentlemen your way.”
Amelia stiffened. She wanted to say that she didn’t wish to be united in matrimony with someone who only considered her worthy of wedlock because of her talents. If she were to enter into matrimony, she would want a match with someone who loved her and chose her for herself.
Rather than say all of this, she chose to remain silent. It was easy for Caroline to say. She was the jewel of the family.
“I agree with Miss Creswell,” Edmund spoke up, seizing the opportunity.
All eyes whipped to him and he took a moment to proceed.
“She may not want to outshine the musicians who have been hired to display their craft. But I must admit…” He cast a charming look at her, and his voice turned to silk as he went on.
“I look forward to hearing Miss Creswell play sometime. I made this desire known to her at tea yesterday, and I hope she obliges me sometime.”
How bold of this man, Amelia thought, suppressing a scoff.
She expected her mother to say something about how she could still play at the summer party and have two birds shot with one stone. But instead, her mother wore a pleased and rather agreeable smile on her face. One that unnerved Amelia to her core.
If her mother even for a second considered Lord Felton to be a viable candidate for matrimony, then Amelia was about to spend the next couple of weeks or months convincing her mother how he really wasn’t—in her opinion. Unfortunately, her mother was a hard woman to convince sometimes.
“I am positive she would be happy to,” Amelia’s mother said, pleased.
She would not, Amelia mused. But it would be disrespectful to say that, or anything else that crossed her mind in the moments that followed as Lord Felton kept going on about Amelia’s talents.
She failed to register what he said, his words feeling more like lead weights than genuine compliments.
He was only making everything worse, despite him saying it was acceptable for her to not perform at the house party. Now, he was raising everyone’s hopes and expectations, charming them with talk that only served to make Amelia more aware of the endless series of social obligations she had.
Emma, unlike anyone else in that room, could tell her cousin was disinterested. She couldn’t blame her. Lord Felton would be better company if he simply closed his mouth.
Amelia continued her breakfast in silence, not even looking in Lord Felton’s direction. She focused her thoughts on her afternoon session when she’d get to play the violin. If she would be allowed such a rare opportunity with so many people around, then she was going to make the most of it.
Suddenly, Lord Felton’s voice cut through her reverie.
“I have already inquired of your favourite composer, Miss Creswell, but pray tell, do you have a favourite music piece? I mean, do all accomplished musicians not have at least one? Perhaps you could play that for me—us—whenever you decide you are up to it.”
Amelia gave him a tight-lipped smile. She felt even more trapped now.
“Of course,” she simply said, unable to come up with any other response. Oh, how she couldn’t wait to return home.
***
Meanwhile, all the way across the other side of the neighbourhood, in the Farraway Manor, the Earl of Edenbrook sat at his table with a knot between his brows.
He had awoken early that morning, and not because he wished to or was an early bird, but because he couldn’t continue to bear the torment of his nightmares.
In his dream the previous night, he was once again transported to his ship that fateful night. He could feel the large ship—once an object of pride and prestige—sinking under his feet. The waves crashed violently against the wooden boards and the ocean roared with fury.
From the deck he saw the mast splinter into two halves, leaving his eyes wide and horrified. His men scrambled to safety on the sinking ship, but some were trapped underneath it, their cries of agony piercing his ears.
Just like that night, Anthony had tried to save them.
How was it possible to fail them, especially having borne witness to their agonizing screams of terror as their final moments approached them?
How was he to explain to the families of some that they couldn’t even be brought home to be properly buried because at the end of that night their bodies couldn’t be found?