Page 43

T hunder rumbled in the distance as Amelia pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her heart hammering beneath her ribs.

Through the heavy oak door, she could hear Mrs. Perry’s delighted sigh echo in the rotunda’s intimate chamber.

The rain drummed steadily on the domed roof above, creating an oddly intimate atmosphere that only heightened Amelia’s discomfort.

Sir Frederick had urged her to stay, his look intense as he’d whispered that Mrs. Perry needed to be disabused of any notions regarding his feelings.

But mortification had propelled Amelia through the hidden door behind the heavy velvet curtain beside the chaise longue, her slippers making no sound on the worn stone steps.

Now, despite her better judgment, she found herself frozen in place, the damp chill of the passage seeping through her thin muslin gown. Her curiosity—no, her need to understand—outweighed her natural inclination to flee.

But embarrassment had fueled Amelia’s flight. She’d torn out of his embrace as the door had opened to admit Mrs. Perry—who’d been too forward to wait for an invitation—while Amelia had slipped out of the back entrance behind the curtain beside the chaise longue.

However, clearly her curiosity—no, nosiness—was even greater than her embarrassment.

What did Mrs. Perry think she could claim from Sir Frederick when he claimed he’d given her no encouragement?

So, despite her best intentions, Amelia remained rooted to the spot.

Besides, she justified to herself, Sir Frederick had begged her to stay. And surely his earlier claim that he’d given the woman no encouragement ought to be tested if Amelia were to succumb to the lures he extended her ?

“Oh, Sir Frederick, I knew you’d be here! And don’t you look dashing?”

Amelia gritted her teeth to hear the plaintive delight and fawning in the other woman’s tone.

How vulgar, Amelia thought, drawing her shawl more closely about her. What did she think she’d get from Sir Frederick? A marriage offer?

“Naturally, you understand I’m not interested in marriage—”

Amelia swallowed. It was, in fact, Mrs. Perry who said these words.

And it wasn’t a simple statement for Amelia to digest. What did a once-married woman want from a man like Sir Frederick if it wasn’t a marriage offer?

Did she want kisses and compliments like Sir Frederick had been in the process of delivering?

Or was there something more?

“My dear, perhaps this isn’t the best place for us to discuss—”

“Oh, Sir Frederick, I’m not here to discuss!” Mrs. Perry delivered a throaty laugh. “You know exactly what I’m here for. It’s what you and I both want.”

“A scandal? I think not.”

Amelia heard a surprised pause. “There’ll be no scandal as long as we’re both discreet.

I cannot marry for another three years according to the terms of my late husband’s will, so you know that I shan’t hold you to a breach of promise.

No, Sir Frederick, I’m merely here to follow up on what we started before. ”

Started before? Amelia didn’t like the sound of that. She drew herself up indignantly, waiting for Sir Frederick to refute anything implied by the widow.

And was gratified when he said, “I’m truly sorry, Catherine, but I cannot.”

A short pause truncated proceedings before Mrs. Perry’s surprised, almost indignant, “You cannot? What do you mean, you cannot? You surely have not offered for that silly little Miss Playford? And even if you had, you’d have even more reason to want to enjoy the heady delights I’m offering.

A silly little miss like that knows nothing about pleasuring a man of your discerning needs. ”

“Not Miss Playford.” He paused. Maybe he was looking into her eyes to make her attend to him. Amelia hoped so. “It’s Miss Fairchild who holds my heart.”

“Miss Fairchild!”

The scorn in Mrs. Perry’s tinkling laugh brought the blood to the surface of Amelia’s skin. She felt herself burning with shame. What did Mrs. Perry feel for Amelia that caused such excoriation in her tone?

“Well, certainly if you’re after moral-improving homilies, then Miss Fairchild is the young lady for you. Is that how you want to end your days? Dying of boredom?”

Amelia put her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp. If Sir Frederick didn’t defend her, she’d burst through that door.

But of course she wouldn’t.

And of course Sir Frederick did.

He cleared his throat. “Catherine. There is no need for you to take this personally. Besides, Miss Fairchild is not in the habit of offering moral-improving homilies. Her conversation is delightful and entertaining—”

“Do spare me!” Mrs. Perry interrupted. “She’s a shrinking violet. A frightened virgin. She knows nothing of what’s needed to please a man like you.”

The rustle of silk suggested movement within, followed by what sounded like a struggle. Amelia’s fingers clenched in the folds of her shawl as she pictured the scene. The widow’s voice had taken on a desperate edge that made Amelia’s cheeks flame with secondhand embarrassment.

Amelia was still trying to make sense of Mrs. Perry’s words as she heard a muffled noise. As if Sir Frederick were trying to restrain the woman. What was Mrs. Perry doing?

“Please, Catherine—This is not what I intended. It’s not the reason I am here to meet you. Put on your pelisse—”

“I’m beautiful! Touch my breasts and tell me I’m beautiful.

” Her voice sounded ragged. “Would your Miss Fairchild offer you this? And with no strings attached. I don’t think so.

She’ll lie on her back and stare at the ceiling, thinking of England while you try to have your pleasure.

But how can a man enjoy pleasure from a woman who believes sex is purely for making babies, and who squeaks and holds her breath rather than responding and touching you as a man like you would—”

“Enough, Catherine! Put on your cloak. I had no idea you came here with nothing underneath. Your slander has only determined me more that following my heart means dealing honorably with Miss Fairchild. You know nothing about her and how she—”

“How she would respond to you and your overtures? Nor do you but you’re willing to take a chance that she’s not the frigid virgin I believe she is? You’re willing to be saddled with a wife for the rest of your life without knowing—”

“Enough, Catherine!”

Shivering with emotion, Amelia heard the exchange from within the room. She should go. Perhaps Mrs. Perry did speak the truth. What truth? She was referring to matters that no unmarried young woman could know about.

Certainly, Amelia had felt stirrings when she’d been kissed by Thomas. She’d felt far more stirrings when she’d been kissed by Sir Frederick, but how could she find the language to explain how her body tingled and tendrils of desire curled through her loins?

But this was a whole other unknown world about which Mrs. Perry spoke.

And was Amelia really up to satisfying a man like Sir Frederick when she had no idea what a husband truly needed?

Wanted.

Amelia pressed her burning cheeks against the cool stone wall, her mind reeling.

The storm outside matched the tumult in her thoughts.

Mrs. Perry’s words had opened a door to knowledge Amelia wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

Yet something deeper than curiosity stirred within her.

A need to understand this aspect of marriage that no one had ever dared discuss with her.

The sound of Mrs. Perry’s angry departure echoed through the rotunda, followed by silence broken only by the steady drumming of rain.

Amelia’s fingers traced the rough stone of the wall as she wrestled with her decision.

Should she leave now, retreat to the safety of her room and the familiar world of books and propriety?

Or should she step through that door and demand answers to questions she barely knew how to frame?

Her hand trembled as it found the doorknob.