Page 27

Amelia bit her lip, waited for Caroline to disappear, and then slowly and purposefully made her way to where Caroline’s note was so artfully hidden.

“Miss Fairchild! Would you care to take a turn about the rose bushes?”

At the bottom of the stairs, with her destination only a few yards away, Amelia was waylaid by Lady Townsend who hooked her arm into Amelia’s with great familiarity and said, before Amelia even had a chance to respond, “Tell me, my dear, have you seen Sir Frederick this morning?”

Amelia sent a furtive glance over her shoulder at the resting place of Caro’s letter while Lady Townsend steered her away. Helplessly, she said, “Alas, I was up late this morning. Why do you ask?”

“I thought you might have gone riding together, having heard your brother expounding upon your superior riding skills in company last night.”

“He’s gone riding? Why, I’m surprised he had the fortitude.”

Amelia realized the error of her words when, looking interested, Lady Townsend asked, “And what, pray, ails Sir Frederick when he appeared perfectly hale and hearty last night?”

“His leg. I saw him in the library when I went to find a book last night and he said he couldn’t sleep for the pain of an old injury.”

“So you two are becoming well acquainted, it would appear. He is a most charming gentleman, do you not think?”

Amelia chose her words carefully. She’d thought him a lot more charming before she witnessed the scene just now between him and Mrs. Perry.

“He knows how to charm the ladies, that is true.” Had those words sounded somehow acerbic?

Amelia hoped not, but Lady Townsend’s expression made her question herself.

The older woman certainly seemed interested in pursuing the topic. “Sir Frederick spent many years abroad and has not been back in England terribly long. Perhaps you should challenge him on the cause of his injury if you think it was caused by youthful folly.”

The fact that Lady Townsend so correctly interpreted Amelia’s tone made Amelia blush.

“I’ve no wish to pry, and he barely mentioned it. Only to reject my offer of a soothing balm I put great store in. No, our discussion centered upon Lady Pernilla’s letters. I found one in one of the books, you see.”

Lady Townsend angled a look at her. “My dear, I helped Lady Pendleton place some of those letters where they would be found. She’s made no secret of the fact the story was make-believe.”

“I know that’s what was said, but I have in fact found letters that are surely genuine, given their age and…and other evidence,” Amelia stammered. She knew they were.

“Is that so?” Lady Townsend said, as if she had absolutely no belief in Amelia’s assertion.

“Now, aren’t these roses beautiful? Did you know that Sir Frederick’s mother was uncommonly fond of roses and, in fact, something of an artist in rendering their likeness?

Her rose garden is renowned in Hampshire. ”

Sir Frederick. Again. Amelia slanted a suspicious glance at Lady Townsend. She seemed excessively attached to the baronet. Could she harbor some strange tendre ?

“Very fine roses,” murmured Amelia, wondering why Lady Townsend had sought out her company when they barely knew one another.

“So you were in the library last night with Sir Frederick? I’ve noticed Sir Frederick seems quite interested in your historical pursuits. It’s refreshing to see a gentleman who appreciates a lady’s intellect.”

“I’m not sure that is exactly the case,” replied Amelia, once again thinking of Sir Frederick’s apparent admiration for Mrs. Perry and his collusion in her unkindness towards Amelia by his failure to champion her. Another pang accompanied this thought, even deeper this time.

“You’re not sure he appreciates a lady’s intellect or you’re not sure he appreciates yours?” Lady Townsend asked with surprising acuity as they turned their steps towards the castle.

“Both,” said Amelia with a sigh. She wanted to get back to the alcove where she was sure she’d find a note from Mr. Greene to Miss Caroline. One that Caroline had answered.

But before she could manage such a thing, her company had been claimed by Miss Playford and then it was luncheon and then Edward wanted to go with her on a ride, insisting in the company of others that she’d promised. Which she had.

So, though dressed in her riding habit, she met Edward to offer her excuses, telling him she was much too exhausted to go riding. And finally, this was how she claimed a moment, without being shadowed, where she could safely retrieve the note without being discovered.

Adjusting her riding hat, which had once been modish and which she’d once thought highly flattering but which now felt dowdy because it was two seasons old, Amelia hurried down the stairs and made her way to where she’d seen Caroline hide her note.

Making sure she was unobserved, she checked each loose stone in the vicinity until finally, she discovered a gray brick that moved.

Carefully she prised it out of the wall, finding behind it a small cavity.

And it was inside this that Amelia realized was a hiding space for, as she extended her fingers, she felt the dull edge of a thick piece of paper.

Pulling it out in triumph, and unfolding it, she squinted at the lettering.

Mr. Greene could not be complimented on his handwriting.

Nevertheless, his thick, even penmanship filled the page.

“Dearest,

We don’t have much time. If you wish to be with me forever then we must act.

You say your chaperone has not left your side?

That the best time to get away is when you dress before the dinner hour?

Then meet me near the park gates when you can get away.

There is a woodsman’s hut that will be deserted.

I shall be there with a chaise and four. ”

Amelia gasped. Miss Caroline was eloping? Tonight? She stared at the letter in shock. Sir Frederick must be told.

But where was he? He’d gone riding this morning, so he must now be somewhere about the grounds.

Picking up her skirts, she hurried towards a group of ladies in company with Lord Thornton.

Ladies Townsend and Pendleton were too ladylike to raise their eyebrows when she quizzed them over Sir Frederick’s whereabouts, but time was of the essence.

She could not let good manners get in the way of preventing Caro from making the biggest mistake of her life.

Sir Frederick had to be alerted at the very earliest so he could waylay his wayward sister.

“Sir Frederick is out riding,” said Lady Pendleton.

“But he went riding this morning. Surely you are mistaken,” Amelia said before she could stop herself. She knew her urgency did not reflect well on her.

“He had planned to go riding this morning but decided to rest an old injury a little longer,” said Lord Thornton. He looked at her curiously. “Is there something you wish to tell him? I can send a message with my groom.”

Amelia swallowed down her embarrassment and her panic. “That is quite all right, thank you,” she said, managing a self-contained nod. “It’s nothing that can’t wait.”

The moment she was out of sight of the group, she picked up her skirts once again and tore down the hill towards the stables.

“I need a mount,” she told the lad working there. “I’m not particular.”

The stable boy looked at her dubiously. “We have Missy. She’s a spirited roan. I wouldn’t recommend her unless you’re an excellent rider.”

Amelia considered herself a competent rider, but now was not the time for semantics. “Yes, Missy will do fine.”

“And who will be accompanying you, miss?”

Amelia bit her lip. “Do you know which direction Sir Frederick and his group went? I am to join them.”

“Sir Frederick went riding on his own, miss.”

“He is alone? Oh, well, he was meeting his sister and me. Which way did he go?” There was no time to be more artful than that. All Amelia could hope for was that she’d spy his figure on the horizon from the gentle hill towards which the stable boy had pointed after he’d given her a leg up.

Soon she was galloping over the fields, hoping that she wasn’t on a misguided goose chase and wondering, as she gasped for air and battled to control the badly named Missy, if she’d been a little too peremptory.

She should simply have waited until Sir Frederick had returned. There would have been time for him to have intercepted his wayward sister before she’d even made her way to the entrance gates. Of course, that would have been best.

It was a full fifteen minutes later—by which time Amelia was considering turning her mount for home—when she saw a single white horse cropping the grass by a copse of trees near the river.

Could it be Sir Frederick’s?

Urging Missy forward, she arrived just as Sir Frederick emerged from the undergrowth.

“Miss Fairchild!” he exclaimed, “You look as if you’ve led the charge, yet you’re alone? Let me help you down so you can catch your breath.”

The nature of her mission should have had her rejecting his offer, but the sight of his hands, outstretched to help her to the ground, were suddenly too much to resist.

And even as she slid to the grass, and felt the warm pressure of his large, capable hands upon her sides as he gently steadied her, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

For she had allowed her heart to rule her head.

Surely that was why she didn’t immediately tell him that time was of the essence and he must return to the castle to find his sister.

When Amelia’s breath had steadied a little, it was with surprise that she realized his hand was still on her shoulder.

As if he, too, had only just realized it, he withdrew it then, frowning, said, “Something has happened. It’s not like you to dash hell for leather, alone, on horseback, all this distance.”

“Oh, it’s exactly like me,” she said, ruefully, only realizing how freely she’d spoken when he raised his eyebrows.