A Secret Proposal (8 page)

“Amelia, I’d like to speak with you in the salon.” Mama’s voice cut across the breakfast room. “Now.”

The oatmeal she’d been eating lodged in Amelia’s throat. She nearly choked. “Y-yes, Mama.”

What did Mama want? She sounded disapproving, but Mama always sounded disapproving. Had she heard rumors? Had someone seen Thad leaving her room at the house party? Amelia said a brief prayer. Oh, please. Anything but that. She exchanged a nervous glance with Hannah who was passing through the room.

Amelia let her spoon drop into her nearly empty bowl, stood, and followed her mother’s ramrod-straight back out of the room, through the corridor, across the foyer, and into the rose salon.

Her mother motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa at the far end of the rug.

Dutifully, Amelia complied, swallowing audibly.

Her mother turned to face her, her fingers laced together. She paced back and forth in front
of Amelia.

“Yes, Mama?” she prompted, unable to stand the suspense a moment longer.

“I have some wonderful news,” her mother began. “But I didn’t want the servants to overhear because it’s not quite settled yet.”

Was that the hint of a smile on her face? Amelia turned her head slightly and watched her mother through narrowed eyes. “What is it, Mama?”

Yes, it was a smile. Amelia was sure of it now. Well, at least more of a smile than Mama had ever displayed.

“The Duke of Stanford paid a call upon your father today. He’s interested in making an offer for you.”

Amelia’s breath fled from her lungs in a long rush. Stanford? Was about to offer for her? She braced her hand against the arm of the sofa. Why was she dizzy all of a sudden? This is what she’d wanted. What she’d hoped for. So why did she feel…so numb?

“Yes, Mama,” she answered woodenly, fighting back the tears that had sprung up at the backs of her eyes.

“You’ve done us proud, Amelia,” Mama said. “I’m ever so pleased with you.”

Amelia bit her lip and fought the tears even harder. That made her feel numb too. The words she’d waited her entire life to hear fell on her ears like raindrops on the muddy road. No sound. No reaction. No…anything.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. At Mama’s call, the butler opened the
door. “Mrs. Templeton, the Marchioness of Colton and Miss Annie Andrews are here to pay a visit.”

Mama had to ask the poor man to repeat the names twice. “Oh, very well, show them in. But give me a moment, Litton. I’m not about to turn a marchioness away from the door, but I particularly detest Lady Colton. I’ll just be off to the kitchens to see to the tea.” She turned to her daughter. “You entertain them for a bit, Amelia.”

Moments later, after Mama had safely stolen away, Lily and her sister, Annie, were ushered into the room.

Amelia stood, waiting for her guests to sit before she reclaimed her seat on the sofa. “I must say I’m a bit surprised you’ve paid me a visit, Lady Colton.”

“Ah, dear, remember? Call me, Lily, please.”

Miss Andrews, who sat on the edge of her seat as if she was a bit nervous as well, added, “And please call me Annie.”

“I wanted to come and see how you were doing. Did you manage to make that certain young man jealous?” Lily asked with a conspiratorial grin.

Amelia’s cheeks went hot. She folded her hands in her lap. “Who said it was a…
young
man?”

“Come now, Miss Templeton,” Lily prodded. “Do I mistake my guess or do you not fancy someone? Someone who is decidedly
not
the Earl of Highland, the Marquis of Bartholomew, or the Duke of Stanford.”

Amelia glanced away miserably. “Oh, it’s true. I do.”

“Ooh, who is it?” Annie said, leaning forward in her seat.

A wide smile spread across Lily’s face. “Yes, who? I admit I’ve been positively on tenterhooks to know.”

Amelia glanced toward the door. She could not let Mama overhear. “If I tell you, you must promise not to repeat it to anyone.”

Both sisters vigorously nodded and crossed their hearts.

Amelia bit her lip, giving another quick glance toward the door. “Very well. It’s… Mr. Hammond. Mr. Thaddeus Hammond.”

“I knew it!” Lily nearly shouted before clapping her hand firmly over her mouth. She slowly drew her hand away. “I mean, I saw you two exchanging glances at the Lexingtons’ ball and I…guessed.”

Amelia furrowed her brow. If Lily had guessed, had her other suitors guessed? Had Mama? This was not good. Not good at all.

“Oh, Miss Templeton, if you admire Mr. Hammond, you must tell him,” Annie said, reaching out and patting Amelia’s hand. Amelia got the impression that the pretty brunette was one of the nicest, most sincere young women she’d ever met. “I know what it’s like to be in love,” Annie added. “I’ve been helplessly in love with Mr. Arthur Eggleston for weeks now and—”

“Yes, dear, be that as it may.” Lily cleared her throat and Amelia got the distinct impression
that Mr. Eggleston wasn’t nearly as beloved by Lily as he was by her sister. How interesting.

“Yes, of course.” Annie shook her head full of silky brown curls. “This is about you, not me, Miss Templeton. But I still say you must tell Mr. Hammond how you feel.”

Amelia glanced away. There were those unwelcome tears again. She blinked to dispel them. “It’s too late. Mama informed me this morning that Papa and Lord Stanford are discussing our betrothal contract.”

“What?” Lily recoiled. “But Stanford is a hundred years old!”

Amelia officially rang for tea to distract herself. “I think he’s seventy-something.”

Annie shuddered. “No, no. You mustn’t marry the duke. You don’t love him. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Amelia said. “My mother’s fondest wish is to gain a title in the family and the duke would be…well, he’s a duke. You must know how these things go. It’s all but settled. Besides, in addition to not holding a title, Mr. Hammond and my mother…well, let’s just say my mother detests him. We could never marry.”

“I understand perfectly,” Lily replied. A sharp look had come into the marchioness’s eyes. “You’re going to marry an old man whom you don’t love to make your mother happy. I did the exact same thing five years ago and I’m not about to let you make the same mistake I did.”

Annie nodded vigorously.

Amelia widened her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I intend to help you, Miss Templeton. I intend to help you get exactly what you
want.”

Amelia blinked at Lily. “Pardon me for saying so, but I don’t understand why you’d want to help me.”

Lily Morgan inclined her head. “I owe you a favor, Amelia. And I intend to repay you in spades.” She clapped her hands. “Now, how much time do we have? Before your father signs the betrothal contract with the duke?”

Amelia shrugged. “I don’t know. Two days, perhaps three.”

Lily winked at her. “Then we must get started quickly.”

Devon Morgan and Jordan Holloway strolled into the boxing saloon the next afternoon looking as if they owned the place. Thad eyed them both warily. The two noblemen were known to frequent Brooks’s and the other more high-end clubs in the city, and while they were both rumored to be excellent at fisticuffs, they’d never stepped foot in Thad’s establishment. Thad’s saloon was respectable, to be sure, but hardly the sort of place the finest of London’s aristocracy chose to frequent. No, his was more the realm of second sons and hangers-on. Which was just the way he liked it.

“Come to bet on the fights, Colton?” Thad asked in greeting, making his way over to the door to welcome his two guests.

Colton cracked a smile. “I don’t bet any longer, actually. I came to fight.”

Thad’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that so? Would you like me to clear a space for the two of you then?” He gestured to Lord Ashbourne.

Ashbourne shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m dressed far too nicely to fight today. I am merely here to observe.”

“Observe?” Thad glanced back and forth between the two of them. He gestured to Colton with his chin. “Then who do you intend to fight?”

Colton inclined his head. “You, if you’d do me the courtesy.”

Thad crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on the older man. Colton had nurtured his reputation as a loser in gambling for the last five years, but it had recently come to light that he was in fact richer than the king and had merely been pretending to be awful at gambling in order to fool the man who had stripped his father’s coffers. Once he’d won back his family’s signet ring and trounced his enemy, Colton had stopped gambling altogether. When he boxed, he usually did so in private with his cronies. Thad had never known him to fight in a public arena such as this.

“Me?” Thad asked, watching Colton carefully. Something was afoot all right.

“Yes, if you’ll have me.”

“Why do you want to fight me?”

“Simple,” Colton responded. “Because I’ve heard you’re very, very good.”

Now
that
Thad couldn’t argue with. In the last few days, he’d been fighting better than he ever had in his life, actually. Was it possible that Lord Colton had merely heard rumors about it and come to see for himself?

“Looking for a challenge, are you?” Thad replied.

“God yes,” Colton answered. “Ashbourne here has grown far too predictable. Besides, I hear you’re good enough to beat me and frankly, I don’t believe it.”

Ashbourne let out a bark of a laugh. “Don’t let him fool you, Hammond. He’s just tired of losing.”

Colton arched a dark brow. “It’s almost always a draw and you know it.”

Ashbourne sighed. “You’re right.”

“As I said…predictable.” Colton turned back to Thad. “So what do you say, Hammond? Will you take me on? Winner’s choice of forfeit?”

Thad cracked a smile. “A bet, eh? I thought you didn’t bet any longer.”

Colton returned his grin. “Let’s just say… I’ve come out of retirement for the occasion.”

Thad considered the offer for a moment. He was in the mood to fight. Hell, he’d been in the mood to fight every day since he’d returned from the Lexingtons’. Truth be told, he’d been in the mood to fight every day for the last three years. But now, staring at the well-dressed Lord Colton, the urge to fight overwhelmed him. He cracked his knuckles. Colton was the man who Amelia had been supposed to marry. If she’d married him according to plan, the whole debacle he’d found himself in over the last week would never have happened. Yes, he had a score to settle with Colton, actually, and today was the perfect day to settle it.

“By all means,” Thad said, stepping back and ushering the two men farther into his club. “Let’s fight.”

* * *

Lord Colton, it turned out, was good. Almost too good. Certainly the best Thad had come across. And if Ashbourne were his equal, he wouldn’t want to come across the two of them in a dark
alley with a score to settle. Thad had started out a bit overconfident. Colton had about seven years in age on him, after all. Thad expected to be much more spry than the older man, but it became obvious after an hour and a half of sweaty, bloody fisticuffs that neither man was going to go down easily.

“I’m impressed, lad,” Ashbourne called from his spot along the sidelines. Every man in the club had stopped what he was doing and come to watch, and now bets were readily being placed. Thad’s factotum stood in full finery at the head of the nearby podium, serving as banker, calling bets, and narrating the fight. Normally, Thad played for fun and sport only, but today, today it had turned into a moneymaker. Some of the men were even pulling others in off the street to watch the bout.

“Well-played, lad,” Colton said, wiping a splash of blood from his brow. “I’m impressed, actually.”

“I’m impressed as well,” Thad replied with as cocky a grin as he could muster. “You fight well for an old man.”

Colton’s brow arched. “Old? Really?”

That,
apparently, made Colton even more determined to win. They circled each other. Sweat and blood ran down their faces and naked backs. Thad struggled to keep his strength. A jab from Colton. A blow to his face. A returning jab. A returning blow. They eyed each other warily but with a definite respect for the other’s skill.

This match would not be quick.

An hour later, Colton delivered the final blow. Thad fell to the floor, spitting out blood. Then he rolled over and stared up at his opponent. “I give. Name your forfeit.”

Devon spat blood on the floor himself. Breathing heavily, he said, “It’s about time, lad. I thought we’d be here all bloody night.”

Thad rolled to his feet and braced his swollen, bloody hands against his knees. He was still struggling to catch his breath. “The forfeit, if you please.”

“It’s quite simple,” Colton replied. “You must ask the woman you love to marry you.”

Thad’s eyes went wide. Surely, he’d misheard the marquis. He stood up straight and placed a hand behind his ear. “What did you just say?”

Colton regarded his own swollen, bleeding knuckles. “You must ask the woman you love to marry you, lad. Quickly, if you please.”

The banker tossed a towel to each of the opponents and Thad wiped his across his brow. “Damn you, Colton. What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Colton patted his face with the towel. “Are you or are you not in love with a certain young lady?”

Thad snapped his towel and hung it around his neck. He threw a hand in the air. “This is ridiculous. What sort of forfeit is this?”

Colton sighed. “I cannot help it. My lovely wife asked me to choose this forfeit and it turns out I’m a slave to her.”

Tugging on the ends of the towel, Thad stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I think
you’ve gone mad in your old age, Colton.”

“Agreed,” Jordan Holloway called from across the floor.

With a grin on his face, Colton hung a sweaty arm around Thad’s neck. “You’d do well to take some advice from an old man like me, lad.”

Thad turned his head, eyes still narrowed. “I’m listening.”

“Life is short,” Colton replied. “Don’t ever let go of anything…or anyone you really want.”