Page 28

Dropping her gaze, she said with a smile, “The self-containment has been a lifetime in the making. It was a necessary counter to being far too naturally prone to exuberance.”

“Exuberance, Miss Fairchild? You?”

Amelia laughed at his wry look and half smile then said, thoughtfully—though of course she should have been breathlessly warning him about his sister—“I was betrothed to a very serious-minded man who made me understand that life is not a game.” Why had she said that?

Sir Frederick wasn’t interested in either her exuberance—or lack of—or her past. He needed to hear of Caroline and Mr. Greene’s plans.

But, as their plans depended on darkness, and right now the sun was high in the sky, Amelia, blushing, opened her mouth to go on when he said, “I remember Thomas Blackheath. Indeed, he was a very noble gentleman who gave his life to this country. I’m sorry for your loss.

” Frowning, he added, “But he has been gone more than five years.”

“Yes, and I knew I would never find his equal,” Amelia said, remembering she had to call out all her defenses for the way Sir Frederick was looking at her was making her insides curdle.

How could she find such a man attractive after Thomas?

This charming libertine who knew how to look at a woman, and how to say all the right things, was the antithesis of her Thomas.

“You knew? Or you resolved?” asked Sir Frederick. “Naturally, you will never find his equal unless you go looking. Which, I gather, you are also resolved not to do.”

Amelia blinked. There was almost censure in his words. Instead of responding, she asked, “How well did you know Thomas?”

“Enough to know he was a very…serious man.”

“And noble.”

Sir Frederick shrugged. “He died for his country. What could be more noble than that?”

And yet there was something about his tone that made Amelia question his words. She found, now, that she didn’t want to talk about Thomas.

Of course, she should change the conversation and tell him about Caroline and what had brought her here.

But he was clearly still pondering what Thomas and Amelia meant to each other, for he said, “I did wonder at the time what Miss Amelia Fairchild and Mr. Thomas Blackheath had in common. The fellow was not known for his sense of humor.” He must have seen Amelia’s expression, for he added, quickly, “But he was an excellent soldier, and he would no doubt have been as assiduous a husband as he was a servant to the crown. Unlike many of the men you’ve since encountered, Miss Fairchild, otherwise a young woman of your beauty and intellect would have married long before now. ”

She knew she was wrong to let it happen. She should have been stronger than that, but obviously the vanity that Thomas had helped her vanquish was more integral to her pleasure-loving nature than she’d supposed. For the compliment found fertile ground.

And not only that, she found the roiling in the pit of her stomach intensifying as she gazed up at Sir Frederick.

“Beauty,” she repeated in a whisper, only aware she’d spoken when he chuckled and she put her hand to her mouth.

“Most ladies parade their beauty like butterflies, but you try to hide yours, Miss Fairchild. I wonder why that is.”

Amelia ran the tip of her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. “It’s…not something I think very much about,” she whispered.

“Since you are not looking for a husband,” he finished for her, as if he were stating this as fact.

He’d taken a step closer, and she didn’t step back. She stared up at him, her feet planted squarely on the ground, for if he wanted to close the distance between them, then she would not object.

She wasn’t going to throw herself into his arms, but if he wanted—

Before she’d finished the thought, he’d lowered his head to look her in the eye. His dark, piercing gaze seemed to penetrate her heart and without realizing it, she’d closed her own eyes, tilting her face and slightly parting her lips.

The touch of his mouth, gentle upon hers, stirred new life into her. Sighing softly, she stepped fully into his embrace, and as his arms tightened about her, she felt her legs become boneless and her heart begin to sing.

Glorious. That’s what it felt like to be kissed.

To be kissed by Sir Frederick for the pressure of lips, gentle at first, more demanding as his ardor increased, matched her all the way.

She twined her arms about his neck and pushed her body against his, needing to be closer when, in fact, they were as close as was possible.

Under the circumstances.

She would not think of that. She’d not even know what “that” was until long after Thomas had died and she’d spent more time in the company of young married friends who’d sometimes forgotten she was not one of “them” when they spoke of the agonies and ecstasies of the marriage bed.

As if sensing her increasing need, he stepped her backwards until she was against a large elm, and having the support behind her gave her the strength to draw his head down and press her mouth even more deeply against his so that for a moment she was emboldened to take charge.

To let him know how deeply she reveled in this—

And then she remembered herself. Dropping her arms, with a gasp, still breathless, she ducked out of his embrace, saying with shame at her wantonness, “I don’t know what came over me, Sir Frederick. Please forget this ever happened.”

He regarded her with interest, his smile sardonic. “You might be able to, but I don’t think I can.”

“But you must! Oh, Sir Frederick, you must think I came here chasing after you when nothing could be further from the truth.” She pulled Caroline’s note out of her pocket. “I found this. It’s from Mr. Greene and he’s asking her to meet him near the park gates tonight. It can only mean one thing—”

“Pray, calm yourself, Miss Fairchild,” Sir Frederick said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder as if he wanted to maintain their earlier contact when Amelia knew this was much too dangerous.

She stepped away. “My words the other night clearly did not have the desired effect, alas. Caroline and Mr. Greene plan to elope tonight and you must speak to her and stop her.”

Sir Frederick sent her a long look. “You are kind for taking such an interest in my sister.”

“How could I do otherwise when I see how youthful folly could lead her into a lifetime of unhappiness?”

Smiling, Sir Frederick indicated Missy, making a cup with his hands to indicate he’d now help her to remount.

“Let us talk about this on the return. For you see, I wonder if I am too harsh with Caroline. Perhaps I am denying her what would truly be in her interest if I thwarted a match between the pair. Not an elopement, of course. She might never recover from the scandal of that. But,” he went on, when he’d ensured Amelia was securely in the saddle, and he was mounting his own horse, “who am I to say that Greene and she wouldn’t be a fair match? ”

Amelia barely knew what to say, she was so surprised at his turnaround. “But he is a…a fortune hunter. And he is so much older, trading on your sister’s youth and innocence. Such a man could never be trusted.”

Sir Frederick raised his head to gaze at a passing flock of starlings. “How do you know that, Miss Fairchild?”

His question took her aback. “Why, he has all the hallmarks of a rake. And surely that is why you objected before.”

Sir Frederick shrugged. “I have given the matter some thought, I must admit. In fact, furthering my acquaintance with a certain…young lady…has made me reconsider my long-held belief about first impressions. We are all fallible. We make mistakes, we take what is on offer. We think we know better when it comes to other people’s choices. That’s only human.”

Amelia felt herself burning from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Was he referring to the fact she’d thrown herself at him? And he was excusing his alacrity in taking what was on offer, realizing how wrong was his initial assessment of her?

She swallowed, dismissing these thoughts to return to the question at hand. “But Caroline is barely out of the schoolroom. And Mr. Greene is so much older. His intentions aren’t… pure.”

“But he’s a suitable enough match,” said Sir Frederick.

“He comes from a respectable family. He’s in line for a baronetcy—tenuous, I’ll admit, but he’s made no bones about the fact that if his sickly cousin dies, he will make Caroline Lady Greene.

And if Caro truly cares for him, should I be cruel enough to thwart her desires? ”

“If you want her happiness for years to come, then yes!” Amelia said before she could stop herself.

“Bravo.” Sir Frederick dropped the reins and gave a couple of desultory claps while his eyes danced.

“Do you realize how delightful it is to bait you, Miss Fairchild? Forgive me, it is not gentlemanly, I know, but you are such a charming mix of earnest good intention and wildfire I really do not know what to make of you. Why, back there, by the tree—”

“Oh, but that was so wrong! I… I’ve never done that before! I behaved just as you said before…about offering what no man could refuse and now I am so mortified I cannot believe we are riding back and having this conversation as if it never happened.”

“Is that what you’re thinking? Why, I’m reliving it in delightful detail. It happened, Miss Fairchild, and surely your enthusiasm would lead me to think you’d not be averse to it happening again.”

“Oh, no!” She shook her head with perhaps a little too much vehemence. “Please, Sir Frederick. I have a reputation to uphold. Please promise you’ll never mention it to anyone.”

He shrugged. “Of course not.”

“And so you’re going to see your sister immediately? Whatever else she does, she cannot elope with Mr. Greene tonight.”

Sir Frederick inclined his head. “She cannot. And nor will she marry him. He is not the husband for her, she will soon come to realize.” He glanced at Amelia.

“Though sometimes one doesn’t realize the apparent truth until we have made our beds.

I wonder if you and your Thomas Blackheath would have been as well partnered as you might have supposed. I would wager not.”

“Why, that’s a terrible thing to say! To speak ill of the dead. Of a man who sacrificed his life for his country.”

“Just as you were prepared to sacrifice your exuberance because he preferred a wife of maidenly restraint.” Sir Frederick grinned. “Admit it, Miss Fairchild. Do not be coy and tell me that you’ve never felt a hint of relief that you weren’t forced to become a Puritan.”

Amelia didn’t answer. He’d hit a nerve for it was true that last year, when she’d felt a frisson of interest in a charming young man who had offered no encouragement but been simply the most delightful company as he’d confided in her his hopes in winning the fair debutante he’d subsequently married, Amelia had been struck by how very differently he’d wooed his sweetheart: with playful affection, abundant admiration, and lots of laughter.

Yes, she’d been struck by how very different his approach was to Thomas’s.

And, in truth, his charm had been infectious, evoking a great more warmth on Amelia’s part than when Thomas had earnestly entreated her to become his wife so that they might please God with their devotion and toil.

Even Edward had scoffed at him at the time—though of course he’d dared do no such thing after Thomas’s untimely demise.

“There is a great deal of difference between a good man like Thomas and a rake,” she said, not looking at him.

Sir Frederick digested this. Then he asked, “Who is the rake? Mr. Greene? Or me?”

Amelia shrugged. “You have a winning way with the ladies.”

“Are you accusing me of charming you unwillingly?”

“Of course not!

But Amelia couldn’t look at him as she said it. She was reliving the sensations she’d felt when he kissed her and how everything he’d said this afternoon had resonated in a way that made her question all her assumptions about him.

And about marriage.