Page 48

T onight was a night for pearls. Amelia didn’t possess pearls, but she had a velvet ribbon to weave through her dark hair, and an evening such as she anticipated most definitely warranted the extra care and attention on her appearance.

A knock on her bedchamber door and the appearance of her brother made it clear that her efforts were not in vain.

“Why, Amelia, don’t you look quite up to the mark!

” he declared, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat and slowly pacing around her like an art critic at an exhibition.

“One would almost imagine you were about to be let loose husband-hunting.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s on that point that I’m here. Yes, my dear, I have come to reassure you that although this be the final night, I am quite assured of success in ensuring that your future rusticating away alone in a quaint and cozy cottage is assured. ”

Amelia was so startled she dropped the pearl drop earring she’d been in the process of hooking through her earlobe. It bounced once on the Turkish carpet before rolling under the dresser.

“But Edward—”

“No buts about it,” he said, grinning, as he headed back towards the door, closing it behind him despite her calls to bring him back.

Amelia sighed. She should have gone after him, but for once, she wanted to spend more time in front of the mirror. The blue silk of her gown—her finest—caught the light as she turned, showing hints of silver thread in its weave.

This evening she would dance again with Sir Frederick. It was a balmy evening, and the moon was full, so she also had every expectation that he would lead her out into the garden.

And he would kiss her.

Her heart sang at the thought, a warm glow suffusing her chest that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Marriage was where they were headed, though he’d not yet spoken in such overt terms. She was sure that her responses to him were sufficiently encouraging that it would be a natural conversation they would have before they left Pendleton Castle.

And what joy the future did hold.

Yes, she should have acquainted Edward with the fact that his wager was now null and void. Sir Frederick would not be hustling any vivacious blonde to the altar because…

He’d be marrying Amelia. And she couldn’t be more joyful about it.

Another knock at the door interrupted her happy reverie. “Come in,” she called, expecting Edward’s return.

Instead, Jenny the maid bobbed a curtsy. “Begging your pardon, miss, but this just came for you. The messenger said it was most urgent.”

Amelia took the folded paper, noting the fine quality and the familiar seal. Her heart quickened—a note from Sir Frederick? But as she broke the seal and unfolded the paper, her smile faded.

My dear Miss Fairchild,

I find myself compelled to write what I fear may cause you pain, but honesty demands no less. While I have enjoyed our intellectual diversions these past days, I find myself increasingly aware of the unsuitability of any deeper attachment between us.

Your serious nature and scholarly pursuits, while admirable in their way, would prove stifling to a man of my temperament. Indeed, I fear your outdated modes of dress and somewhat provincial manners would make you an object of ridicule in the circles I frequent.

Moreover, a lady of your years requires a more staid companion, one who would better appreciate your improving conversation and moral rectitude. I myself require someone more… accomplished in the ways of society.

I trust you will understand this gentle correction of any misconceptions you may have formed.

Yours sincerely, Frederick

The paper trembled in Amelia’s hands. Each word seemed to strike like a physical blow, targeting every insecurity she’d tried so hard to overcome. Her knees weakened, and she sank onto the edge of her bed.

Could this truly be from Sir Frederick? The hand resembled his, yet…She read it again, tears blurring her vision.

Of course it was not!

But even if this letter was not genuine, did it not speak the truth? Was she not indeed serious, scholarly, unfashionable? Did she not lack the vivacity and sophistication that a man like Sir Frederick deserved?

The moon had risen fully now, casting long shadows across her chamber floor. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the quarter hour. The ball would be beginning soon.

Rising on unsteady feet, she crossed to her dressing table and stared at her reflection.

The velvet ribbon suddenly seemed a poor substitute for pearls, her careful coiffure provincial rather than elegant.

Everything Mrs. Perry had ever implied with her cutting glances now seemed confirmed in black and white.

Turning abruptly, Amelia snatched her shawl from its hook on the back of the door, changed her slippers for her sturdiest—the ones ruined the night of the treasure hunt—and made for the outdoors.

At times of great emotional distress, she could not be confined within the four walls of what always felt like a prison. Nature and fresh air calmed her.

And right now, she needed to be calmed.

She wanted to breathe in the fresh late afternoon air, and gaze at the cloud-filled sky…

And be alone.

Because she’d never felt more alone.

How much more painful it was to have the world turn dark when so recently she’d thought joy and mutual regard were her future.

“Miss Fairchild!”

Oh, she did not want to have to make polite conversation with Lady Townsend right now.

Steeling herself, she turned, forcing her trembling mouth into submission while she crumpled the paper in her fist.

“Miss Fairchild… is everything all right?”

Lady Townsend was not yet in her evening wear as Amelia was. And, glancing down at her blue silk gown, which was obviously what she’d be wearing to the ball, she realized she’d be a curiosity. Not that she’d given that much thought as she’d rushed out of the castle.

Amelia opened her mouth to respond, then, realizing she couldn’t trust her voice, she just nodded.

“Very good. It’s a lovely evening for a walk, isn’t it?

” the older lady remarked. “Do you mind if I accompany you? Just a short turn about the rose bushes and then I must get ready for this evening. I see the great outdoors beckoned while you were part way through dressing. That’s a very lovely gown.

The shade of blue reflects your eyes. I saw Sir Frederick appeared very taken with it when you wore it last.”

“I’ve worn it three times. He must wonder if I possess anything else in my wardrobe,” Amelia said, knowing she must sound as forlorn as she felt but unable to think of anything else to say.

“Oh, I don’t think Sir Frederick worries about such matters. He’s a man who admires a lady’s intellect more than her dress.”

“I hope he does.”

A surprised pause greeted this pronouncement before Lady Townsend took Amelia’s arm as she steered her around an elm tree and headed towards the lake.

“Now, why should you question that? I’ve been quite struck by how interested that gentleman appears in everything you say.

Why, these past two days, he hangs on your every word, Miss Fairchild.

” She cleared her throat. “If I may be allowed to speak my mind from an observer’s point of view, I would say that you are the lady he prefers above all others here.

And there are some charming young ladies—and not so young—who clearly favor the gentleman. ”

“You mean, like Mrs. Perry?”

“Exactly! But while he joins in the kind of mindless banter she clearly enjoys, it’s you in whom he’s interested.”

Amelia shook her head. “I am convenient. And here only until tomorrow.” Despite herself, Amelia unfisted her right hand and proffered the letter she’d recently received.

Lady Townsend frowned. “What is this?”

“I received it a few minutes ago. While I was preparing for this evening, in fact. It’s the reason I couldn’t continue in front of the looking glass.” She closed her eyes briefly, the pain washing over her again while Lady Townsend quickly scanned the missive.

“You know he didn’t write this, don’t you?”

Amelia raised her head to look at the older woman, then shrugged. “Even if it’s not what he thinks, it’s what a great many other people do.”

“But you surely don’t think Sir Frederick actually penned that letter.”

Amelia sighed, bit her lip, then looked at the ground. “To be perfectly honest, I think Mrs. Perry wrote that letter. Sir Frederick would never be so cruel. Not after everything he’s said.”

“Then why are you so downcast?”

“Because this letter reveals the truth of what I am. I’m past my first flush of youth, I’m dowdy, I’m too interested in book learning.”

“It’s your mind that must first excite a man.

Why, that is the very first consideration, Miss Fairchild.

A pretty face is almost as essential, and indeed, you have that.

So, you have both. All this letter suggests is that you have a deficiency in modish attire.

And how easily that can be rectified. My dear, I think it is nonsense that you’re taking to heart a missive forged by a rival.

Why, this is exactly what Mrs. Perry is hoping for: that you will meekly concede defeat so she can launch herself into the playing field.

Or, whoever did write that letter—if it wasn’t Mrs. Perry—knows that you are a young lady of character and discernment, but perhaps a little less robust in personal confidence.

Please, Miss Fairchild, do not allow the evil perpetrator of this poisonous missive to win the day. ”

“I know I should not.” Amelia exhaled in frustration. “But now that I know the true caliber of a man I once considered a libertine, I wonder if it won’t be long before he realizes that the supposedly learned woman he admired falls far short of his expectations.”