Becoming Lady Lockwood (20 page)

“It is true, I have been fortunate to make the acquaintance of truly amiable people in my short time here.”
And some not so amiable.

“If you decide to return soon, miss, I shall be happy to transport you aboard my vessel, the SS
Louisa
,” James said. “We set sail at noon in two days’ time.”

“Thank you, sir.”

At the conclusion of the meal, Amelia walked with Lady Vernon as the ladies withdrew to the drawing room for tea while the gentlemen remained for port and masculine discussion.

“And are you feeling quite well, Miss Becket?” Lady Vernon asked quietly as they walked. “You seemed a bit pale after the waltz.”

“I do not think Miss Amelia Becket should worry that she has grown too pale,” Regina Foster said loudly as she walked past them.

Lady Vernon shot a glare toward Regina and led Amelia to a corner of the room, as far as possible from Miss Foster, motioning for a maid to pour Amelia some tea.

“I am quite well, my lady. Thank you for your concern.”

“And do not fret about the sharp tongue of that woman,” Lady Vernon said. “It is hardly a wonder that she has had three Seasons and not managed to ensnare a husband—even with the enormous fortune her father left her.”

“I do not know if that will be the case much longer,” said another woman, sitting near them. “It seems that Regina and Lord Lockwood have developed quite a friendship tonight.”

Amelia set down her tea. “I am sorry, Lady Vernon. I am actually feeling a bit dizzy. Perhaps I should make my excuses and—”

“Of course, dear. It is a wonder you have been able to keep such energy all evening.”

“Is it true that you were injured in a naval battle, Miss Becket?” asked the woman sitting close to them.

Lady Vernon shooed the woman away and helped Amelia to stand. Then she linked her arm through Amelia’s and led her from the drawing room, calling for her carriage and their cloaks.

“I am sorry, my lady. I shouldn’t want you to miss the party on my account.”

“Do not fret, Miss Becket. I shall send a servant to notify my husband and then deliver you safely home and return in time to play cards before I’m missed.”

As the women waited in the entry hall for the carriage, Sidney walked from the dining room and strode toward them.

The very sight of him made tears well up in Amelia’s eyes.

“Miss Becket, might I have a word with you before you depart?”

Lady Vernon narrowed her eyes. “Captain, as you can see, Miss Becket is quite unwell.”

“It shall be for just a moment, my lady.” He led Amelia a short distance from Lady Vernon.

“Amelia,” he said softly. “I overheard a servant telling Lord Vernon that you were ill. I am so sorry that things are . . . the way they are. I cannot bear to see you upset.”

“I’m afraid that I was just mistaken about a particular . . . relationship, Sidney.”

Sidney turned to face her directly, looking intently into her eyes. “The person in question’s feelings are much the same as they’ve always been, Amelia.”

“That is quite enough,” Lady Vernon said, helping Amelia into her wrap. “There will be plenty of chances for visiting once Miss Becket is feeling better. Good night, Captain.”

“Good night, m’lady, Miss Becket.” Sidney held Amelia’s gaze for a moment longer before looking away. What had she seen in his eyes? Was it pity?

Sidney had obviously been politely telling her that whatever she had thought existed between her and William had been very one-sided. He was doing her a favor, really, keeping her from making a fool of herself, and she wondered who else may have noticed. William had never cared for her the way she had for him. All the doubts she had were confirmed by Sidney’s words and William’s actions. William’s feelings were the same as they had always been, and now she had only to be regretful that she had let her own develop to such an extent.

She thought about Commander Dunford and his ship leaving the day of the trial. She would see William that day for the last time, and the outcome of the trial did not matter. If William truly did not care for her, there was no reason for her to remain in England and no reason for her to ever set foot upon its shores again.

Bundled up in Lady Vernon’s carriage, Amelia leaned her forehead against the window and let her tears slide down her cheeks, loving the warm cloak that encircled her and wishing it could somehow heal the part deep inside of her that she feared would never stop hurting.

William leaned forward in the
leather chair at his club, resting his elbows on his knees. He took another drink of the amber liquid that he had hoped would calm his tension, but so far it had not been effective.

Sidney leaned back in the chair next to him, crossing one ankle to rest upon his opposite knee.

Since it was not the Season, the club was fairly empty, but a group of men still sat near enough for William to overhear their conversations. Most spoke about the duke’s ball the night before, and of course, many spoke of a certain bright-eyed brunette from Jamaica who had become the talk of the town.

William gritted his teeth.

Sidney, no doubt sensing the storm brewing just beneath the surface of William’s calm exterior, shifted forward in his seat, placing his foot upon the floor. “The hearing is tomorrow morning,” he said in a lowered voice. “Patience, old boy.”

Patience. William had had enough of patience. The ball the night before had been torture. He hadn’t known Amelia would be there. When he’d seen her enter the room looking all the world more exquisite than he could have imagined, his mouth had dropped open. If it had not been for that annoying woman, Regina Foster, he was sure he would not have been able to prevent himself from crossing the room and sweeping Amelia into his arms, thereby ruining not only her reputation but his suit against her father.

As it was, he should probably thank Regina for her distraction, as bothersome as it was. She had clung to him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull the entire night, and the only relief he’d found from her incessant eye batting and lip pouting was when the women withdrew after supper. He had tired quickly of her not-so-disguised insults toward the other ladies in the room and found himself longing for someone he could have an actual conversation with. Someone witty and clever, who would never put on a coy performance just to impress him. Someone whose smile had the power to chase away despairing thoughts. Someone who was comfortable with herself, who did not give a fig whether her hands got calloused repairing a sail or whether her nose got freckled in the sun upon the deck. And he could think of only one lady who would ever fit the bill: his Amelia.

A man came to sit in their corner. He shook both their hands. William searched his mind for the gentleman’s name. The man had been at the ball the night before, and they had even conversed for a moment. The man was older, probably the age William’s father would be if he were still living. William also noted the man’s round belly and colorful waistcoat.
Charles Porter
. William would have to do better with names if he was going to make a decent earl.

“How do you do this afternoon, Mr. Porter?” Sidney asked.

“Very well, Captain Fletcher. How long do you expect to be quartered in London, sir?”

“The
Venture
has been moved to Portsmouth to undergo extensive repairs. It seems the previous captain allowed quite a lot of damage—” Sidney broke off his words, laughing at William’s glare. “We expect to receive orders within the next few weeks. I have a crew who will be quite anxious to set sail by that time.”

“Very good,” Mr. Porter said. “And how did you gentlemen enjoy the duke’s ball last night?”

“Delightful, was it not, William?” said Sidney.

William took another drink before answering dryly, “Yes, delightful.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself very much with a certain lady of means, Lord Lockwood.”

William raised his brow, but before he could answer, Sidney cut in. “I think there were many lovely young ladies among the company.”

“If I were a young buck like the two of you and not a confirmed old bachelor, I should think there was only one lady at the ball worthy of my attention.”

“And who is that, sir?” Sidney asked.

“Why, Miss Amelia Becket, of course.” Mr. Porter took a sip of his drink and set it down on the low table that sat between the three men. “She was by far the most engaging lady I have had the pleasure of conversing with in quite some time.” He crossed his ankles and folded his hands over his round waist. “And I hear the duke has already been to visit Miss Becket this morning. Quite a compliment so soon after paying her such particular attention at his ball. And did you see the two of them waltz? A handsome couple to be sure. I should not be surprised—”

But William did not hear the rest of Mr. Porter’s statement. He slammed down his glass, sloshing liquid over the table, and stormed from the room, leaving Sidney to make his apologies.

William stepped down the front steps of the club and quickly sent his carriage driver home, opting to walk the mile through the cold streets. The cool air would hopefully clear his mind and rid him of the image of Amelia in the duke’s arms as they waltzed around the ballroom.

He clenched his fists, seething. Of course other men had noticed her. They would have been blind not to. She had been surrounded nearly the entire night by admirers.

Only a few more hours and this entire business with her father would be solved. And from the news his solicitor had given him, it seemed as if it would be over quickly. But was it too late? Had he already lost her?

***

The next morning, William paced in front of the magistrate’s chambers. He had met early with Mr. Campbell, who had introduced William to Mr. Grant, the barrister who would represent the earl’s case. Each of the men was very capable, and William had full confidence that the matter would be handled well. The two men sat upon a bench conversing, heads bent over a stack of documents. But William paced, finding that even eighteen years of military discipline did not give him the patience to remain still when something so crucial was at stake.

When the bailiff opened the door to admit them into the chambers, William saw that Admiral Becket, the man William assumed was the admiral’s barrister, and Amelia were already seated at one side of a large table.

They all looked up when the men entered, but Amelia quickly cast her eyes back down. William repeated his mantra.
Patience. It is nearly finished.

William and his council sat at the other side of the table. He was grateful that this matter was to be handled privately instead of in a public courtroom.

The bailiff pounded his staff upon the ground. “Hear ye, hear ye. All rise for the Honorable Clarence Thurston, Esquire.”

They all stood, and the magistrate entered the room, his black robes swishing around him and a curled white wig upon his head. He sat at the head of the table, and then he motioned for the rest of the room to be seated.

“Are all parties present?” the magistrate asked, and upon receiving an affirmative answer from both groups, he continued. “As I understand it, we are here to settle a matter concerning the legality of a marriage license signed by one Lawrence Drake, earl of Lockwood, now deceased, and a Miss Amelia Becket.” The magistrate turned to Amelia. “And am I to understand that you are the woman in question—Miss Amelia Becket?”

Amelia opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by her father.

“Sir!” Admiral Becket interrupted. “By referring to her thus, you already favor our opponent. My daughter shall be known in these proceedings, and henceforth, as Lady Lockwood.”

The admiral’s barrister was attempting to quiet the bellowing man, and the magistrate narrowed his eyes, focusing on the admiral. “Sir, your barrister shall represent you, and I do not permit such outbursts in my chambers. If I want to hear you speak, I shall question you directly.”

Admiral Becket’s face grew red. He inhaled as if to unleash another tirade, but a few whispered words from his barrister stopped the admiral, and instead, he glared at each person in the room in turn, including Amelia.

William clenched his jaw.

The magistrate cleared his throat. “And am I to understand that . . . the admiral’s daughter signed the marriage license in Jamaica and Lord Lockwood signed the same document in England, but no wedding was ever performed?”

Admiral Becket’s barrister spoke. “Unfortunately, Lord Lockwood’s commitments in India, followed by his untimely death, prevented such a thing, sir.”

“I see.” The magistrate wrote upon the papers in front of him. “And, young lady, you argue that such a ceremony is unnecessary, and this document, as a contract, entitles you to the rights of jointure as Lord Lockwood’s widow?”

Why is he questioning Amelia?

Amelia looked at the magistrate for a long moment. “I am sorry, sir. I do not know exactly how to answer that question. I did sign the document, believing it to connect me in marriage, by proxy, to the late Lord Lockwood. But upon his death, the disagreement over jointure has been raised by my father and the current Lord Lockwood.”

He turned to William. “And Lord Lockwood, you seek to discredit this woman. To expose her as a fraud and declare this document illegal.”

William looked at Amelia, but her gaze did not rise to meet his. He swallowed before he answered, hating his words, but knowing he must say them. “Yes, sir.”

He heard Amelia’s quick intake of breath.

“And, young lady, you have no opinion in the matter?”

Amelia glanced at William and then at her father, whose face was angled away from the magistrate, preventing the presiding authority from seeing the threat in his eyes. She took a breath, looked away from the admiral, and spoke to the magistrate. “I was not coerced into signing the document, sir. I did so of my own free will, but I have since come to regret it. I have no desire for an inheritance that does not belong to me.”

At her words, the admiral sprang to his feet, spluttering in a rage. The other men in the room jumped up, afraid that he might strike his daughter. Out of habit, William reached for his sword, then cursed the fact that he no longer wore it as part of his regimentals.

The magistrate banged his gavel upon the table, and with the help of the bailiff, Admiral Becket was returned rather forcefully to his seat.

“One more display like that, Admiral, and I shall have you removed.”

Amelia remained standing, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and William felt his heart compress.

“Sir.” She spoke to the magistrate in a quiet voice. “If you would please excuse me from the remainder of the proceedings. I do not believe my presence here is necessary.”

The magistrate studied her for a moment. “Even though the verdict is to determine the entire course of your life?”

“The verdict will be determined with or without me present, sir.”

The magistrate nodded. “Very well then. You are excused.”

Amelia hurried from the room, and though it broke William’s heart to see her hurting, he was glad that she would not have to witness the remainder of the proceedings.

She had been incredibly brave, and he was certain that her father would not treat her kindly when he returned home. William determined to get there first.

The magistrate spoke again. “And now, I should like to hear the evidence presented by the barristers. Admiral, your representation may begin.”

Admiral Becket’s barrister, Mr. Stanley, was a young man with a hook nose. He stood and took a breath before speaking. “Your Honor, Admiral Becket’s daughter and the late Lord Lockwood, both of sound mind, endorsed a legal document with their signatures. The marriage certificate was legally obtained, and such a contract is legally binding. The admiral is guilty of no deception, and while he acknowledges the great tragedy of the earl’s early death, it does not nullify the agreement.”

The barrister resumed his seat next to Admiral Becket, and the magistrate wrote some notes before turning to William’s side of the table.

“And Lord Lockwood, your counsel may present a counterargument.”

Mr. Grant stood, and while he did not speak as quickly as his opponent, his words were clear and firm. William was again grateful to Mr. Campbell for choosing this man.

“Your Honor, not only was no marriage ceremony performed but there is no evidence that any effort was ever made to do so. And, sir, if I may . . .” Mr. Grant took a document from Mr. Campbell and handed it to the magistrate.

Admiral Becket began whispering furiously to his barrister, who only shrugged his shoulders.

The magistrate perused the document for some time before turning back to Mr. Grant. “And would you care to explain this, sir?”

“By court order, Lord Lockwood’s solicitor was able to obtain this document, which we believe to have been drafted mere months before the unfortunate death of the earl’s brother. It is, as you can see, a will, bequeathing the entirety of Admiral Becket’s daughter’s plantation to the admiral upon either Miss Becket’s or her husband’s death. Such a thing, sir, cannot help but call the admiral’s character into question, as it appears he had devised some scheme with the late Lord Lockwood.”

“Admiral Becket, this information is quite condemning. Do you have an explanation?”

The admiral’s face turned red. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing! You have no proof.” He pointed to the magistrate. “I have done nothing illegal, and I insist upon a new magistrate. One who is not so obviously biased. Tell me, sir, how much gold did Lord Lockwood lay in your palm to ensure his victory?”

“Bailiff, remove this man from my chambers immediately. He will be detained in a cell overnight.”

“I am an admiral in His Majesty’s navy!” Becket screamed as the bailiff dragged him from the chamber.

Mr. Stanley rubbed his eyes.

The magistrate took a breath before speaking. “Lord Lockwood, it is completely within your rights to begin criminal proceedings against Admiral Becket concerning your brother’s death.”

It was the plantation. That was the admiral’s design all along. It was unbelievable that the man would go to such lengths to obtain it. A thought crept into William’s mind: had the admiral somehow been responsible for the death of Amelia’s mother as well? William hoped that question would never be addressed in Amelia’s presence.

Hearing Mr. Campbell clear his throat, William realized that the magistrate was awaiting an answer. “Sir, a military court has already begun investigating the admiral.”