Brighton Road (25 page)

If you had an ounce of pride, Amelia
Sinclair, she thought, you would refuse him. A man that comes to
you at his mother's bidding!

But all such notions fled when the door swung
open and she saw Justin's tall frame silhouetted in the entry. He
grinned at her; his brown hair bleached light by the sun made a
pleasing contrast to his bronzed skin.

"Good morning, Amelia."

Before she could reply, Giddings pressed
forward into the room, an affronted expression crossing his stately
features. He announced in his frostiest accents, "Lord Spencer,
miss."

Her pulses racing, Aurelia half rose,
extending her hand.

"And," Giddings continued in tones of strong
disapproval, "Mr. Everard Ramsey."

Aurelia sank back, as dismayed as Giddings by
the sight of the immaculately tailored, dark-haired gentleman who
followed Justin into the room. How often had Justin regaled her
with tales of Everard Ramsey, whose meticulousness in matters of
dress was only matched by his recklessness at the gaming tables.
But why was Justin's friend so perverse as to call upon her this
morning of all mornings, when Justin meant to propose?

Justin, however, did not appear in the least
discomposed by Ramsey's untimely arrival. As he turned to greet his
friend with every evidence of pleasure upon his handsome
countenance, Aurelia struggled to suppress her own sense of bitter
disappointment.

"I tried to keep the fellow out," Giddings
said in an overly loud whisper. "But when he came tooling into the
yard, he saw Lord Spencer's horse and knew that you were
receiving."

"Thank you, Giddings," Aurelia said quickly,
fearful that Ramsey would overhear. "Would you please see to
refreshment for my guests?"

"Certainly, miss." The old man made a
dignified exit, muttering how a nice glass of arsenic would do for
some persons who had not the wit to realize their timing was most
inopportune.

Aurelia directed a weak smile at the two men.
"I fear Giddings grows more eccentric with age "

Completely disconcerted by this unexpected
turn of events, she shook hands with Justin before turning to
murmur a greeting to Mr. Ramsey. She had taken a marked dislike to
the man, although she had met him only the night before at supper.
The London dandy had inspected her across the table through his
quizzing glass, studying her until Aurelia had been provoked into
saying sweetly, "Pray, Mr. Ramsey, are you feeling quite the thing?
My own dear papa was always wont to stare in just such a glazed
fashion when he was about to suffer an attack of the gout."

The man hadn't even had the grace to blush,
but her remark had had the effect of making him turn his gaze
elsewhere, although she had the uncomfortable feeling that he
followed every word of her conversation with Justin, her dinner
partner. After such an encounter, she would have thought that
calling upon her would be the last notion to occur to Mr.
Ramsey.

Ramsey executed a brief bow, his hooded blue
eyes containing a hint of mockery. His perfectly formed jawline,
his high cheekbones, his dark, arched brows gave the man an
expression of carefully schooled arrogance. "I see my visit has
taken you quite by surprise, Miss Sinclair." He produced a folded
fan from the pocket of his silk waistcoat. "You left this at my
aunt's last evening, and she insisted I see it returned to
you."

"What! The orderly, efficient Miss Sinclair
forgetting her belongings." Justin chuckled. "That is most unlike
the Reely I know."

Aurelia smiled at his teasing, but she felt
her cheeks turn pink. Would she ever be able to persuade Justin to
stop calling her by that dreadful childhood nickname?

"Thank you, Mr. Ramsey," she said, her hand
clamping around the ivory handle. "But you need not have put
yourself to such trouble, returning the fan immediately. Especially
when I am sure you must have so many more important matters to
attend to this morning."

"Here in the wilds of Norfolk, Miss
Sinclair?" One of Ramsey's dark eyebrows shot upward. "No, I assure
you I have no pressing business whatsover. In fact, my entire day
is at your disposal."

He strode further into the room, stripping
off his yellow kid gloves, giving every impression of intending to
make a very long stay. His blue eyes glinted with what Aurelia
would have called pure mischief if it had been anyone else but the
sophisticated Mr. Ramsey.

Justin pressed a small parcel into her hands.
"A trifling gift," he said, "but it is something I know you like
above all things."

When Aurelia undid the string and the tissue
wrapping fell away, she discovered a box of chocolates. Sweetmeats
were ever a weakness with her, but her stomach was so knotted with
apprehension and frustration, she had difficulty regarding Justin's
gift with any sort of enthusiasm. Did Justin truly believe that was
what she valued most in the world, sweetmeats? It was obvious the
insufferable Mr. Ramsey thought so from the way his cynical eyes
shifted from the box to her waistline. In sheer defiance, she
popped one of the sweet confections into her mouth before
proffering the treat to the gentlemen, both of whom declined.

Ramsey held up his hand, feigning a shudder.
"No, thank you, Miss Sinclair. So early in the day! Incidentally, I
do hope you do not find our calling thus soon after breakfast
inconvenient?"

Hardly that, Aurelia felt like snapping. She
had only been waiting five years for Justin to declare himself,
ever since her father's death had left her orphaned. It seemed
that, thanks to Mr. Ramsey, she must perforce wait a little
longer.

"Inconvenient? Not at all, Mr. Ramsey," she
forced herself to reply. She focused her attention upon Justin;
affording him her most gracious smile. "It is prodigiously good to
see you at any time, Justin. Pray, be seated."

"I told you, did I not, Ev," Justin said,
"that Reely would not be like one of your London belles, still
languishing in bed at this hour of the day."

"One of my London belles?" Everard said so
softly, Aurelia nearly did not catch the remark.

Justin glared at him, before favoring Aurelia
with another of his heart-stopping smiles. He seated himself
astride the reading chair, leaning his arms with careless grace
upon the back of the book rest.

Was it truly so absurd, Amelia thought
wistfully, to hope that Justin did not view the prospect of
marrying her with complete repugnance, that once wed, his childhood
friendship with her might develop into emotions a trifle wanner?
Was there any chance at all?

But her contemplation of Justin was seriously
disturbed by Mr. Ramsey, who had chosen not to seat himself. What
must the man do but pace about, examining the appointments of the
room through his quizzing glass. As he regarded the faded
Tree-of-Life wallpaper, the worn carpet, Aurelia almost wished she
had elected to receive the gentlemen in one of the coldly elegant
drawing rooms decorated by her mother. But of all the parlors in
the rambling manor house, this was the one she had always
considered peculiarly her own, where she felt the most secure. The
massive fireplace mantel was not a showpiece designed by Adams,
Gibbons, or anyone of note, but was constructed of good, plain oak,
as were much of the room's furnishings. Best of all, the room had
no mirrors to reflect back to her the imperfections of her less
than willowy form.

Aurelia tossed her head. As if she cared a
fig for Mr. Ramsey's opinion. Let him turn up his nose at her taste
in decorating if he wished.

"I believe Trueblood strained a fetlock on
our canter over here," Justin was saying. "I consigned him to the
care of your head groom but I could hardly credit it. You still
have old Harley working down in the stables. Why, he must be upward
of seventy years old by now."

"Oh, at least." Aurelia was vexed to discover
she could not concentrate on Justin's words, so uncomfortable was
Mr. Ramsey making her. After he trailed his fingers along the keys
of the ancient rosewood pianoforte, his inspection of the room
brought him over to the fireplace, in such close proximity Aurelia
had to gather in her skirts to keep them from being trodden upon by
his immaculate black Hessians. His cream-colored kerseymere
trousers brushed up against her billowing yellow silk. With such
closeness, Aurelia could not help remarking how his navy coat with
mother-of-pearl buttons molded perfectly to his frame. Although he
was not as tall and muscular as Justin, it was obvious the man had
no need to resort to padding to fill out his shoulders.

"Don't you remember that, Reely?" Justin's
impatient voice cut into her thoughts.

"What? I didn't quite hear you," she said.
Embarrassed that Justin should find her so inattentive, she
nervously ate another chocolate.

"I was speaking of the time old Harley nearly
took a switch to me, the time I stole a ride on your father's best
hunter."

"Truly, Justin, you were always involved in
so many pranks, it is difficult for me to remember them all."

Justin looked remarkably handsome as he threw
back his head in a hearty laugh, but Aurelia was unable to enjoy
fully the effect. The devil take Mr. Ramsey! If he must ruin
everything this way, the least he could do would be to sit down and
direct his supercilious stares from some forgotten corner. She
noted with dread he was now examining the collection of China jade
figures assembled on the mantel.

"This fellow looks rather like a rabid
bulldog. What is it for, Miss Sinclair? To ward off evil
spirits?"

"If it is," she said, "it obviously does not
work."

The corner of Ramsey's well-formed lips
quivered, a ghost of a smile tipping his mouth. Then his features
hardened into their customary sardonic expression.

Justin yawned. "Oh, do sit down, Ev, and let
us talk about something else besides bric-a-brac."

"I should be only too happy to oblige,"
Ramsey drawled, "but I do not recall that I was ever invited to
have a seat."

"Why, Mr. Ramsey, I—" Aurelia began
indignantly, then halted in confusion. She had all but shown him
the door when he arrived. Even considering her disappointment, such
behavior was inexcusable.

She began to frame an awkward apology, when
Justin interrupted, "Don't be such a cod's head, Ev. You needn't
stand on ceremony here. Don't you know your aunt is Aurelia's
godmama? Why, both the Foxcliff and Spencer families have been
acquainted with Reely forever and ever."

"Yes, I am just like the Tower of London,"
Aurelia said dryly. "An ancient, well-known landmark."

Everard Ramsey emitted an odd, strangled
sound. He muffled a sudden fit of coughing behind his hand.

"Oh, you know what I meant, Aurelia." Justin
gave her a look of smiling exasperation.

"I am afraid I do," she murmured. "Please
forgive me, Mr. Ramsey, if I have been remiss in my duties as
hostess. Of course, you are quite welcome to sit down."

Indeed she was beginning to feel a little
ashamed of herself for her uncivil behavior. The emotion quickly
vanished when Mr. Ramsey ignored all the bandy-legged Queen Anne
chairs and settled himself beside her on the sofa. The quizzing
glass that had been fixed upon the mantel ornaments was now trained
as mercilessly upon her face.

She hauled her stitchery up onto her lap in
an effort to maintain a calm demeanor. How piercingly blue the
man's eyes were, the deep vivid blue of the sky on a crisp autumn
afternoon. And his hair. Strange that she had not remarked it
before. Those glossy midnight waves absolutely refused to remain
swept into the neat Btutus style so popular amongst the gentlemen.
It must be a source of deep chagrin to the particular Mr.
Ramsey.

"Your ability with the needle is remarkable,
Miss Sinclair." The sound of his voice startled her. "However do
you contrive to take such delicate stitches without looking at your
work?"

Aurelia nearly stabbed herself as she
realized she had been staring at him as intensely as he regarded
her. She lowered her eyes, but she determined not to allow Ramsey
to intimidate her further.

"It is all a matter of practice," she said.
"Just as I am sure that is how you acquired your skill with a
quizzing glass. Could I persuade you to level it at the carpet? I
seem to have dropped one of my needles."

"Alas, Miss Sinclair, you overrate my
ability. I have never been good at retrieving lost articles." But
he did lower his glass, dangling it by the ribbon between two of
his graceful, tapering fingers.

From across the mom Justin muffled a yawn.
Aurelia feared he was bored by the conversation. His gaze traveled
to the tall windows, and Aurelia knew instinctively he regarded the
fields and the woodland beyond. It was perfect hunting weather. He
shifted restlessly in his seat. It would not be long before he
would be making his excuses, drawing his visit to a close.

Plague take Everard Ramsey! Aurelia
forcefully jabbed her needle into the linen cloth and reached for
another chocolate.

Ramsey leaned forward for a closer inspection
of her work. "What is that you are sewing with such great
energy?"

She was seized by an urge to shake him out
his air of imperturbability. "It is a shroud," she said primly.

Her words had the desired effect. Ramsey
jerked upright, his eyes widening. "I beg your pardon? Sewing
shrouds—surely that is a rather unusual occupation for a young
lady?"

"I like to be prepared. One never knows when
there will be a sudden demise in one's circle of acquaintance."

The elusive smile played across his features.
"If you are thinking of me, then you had best be like Penelope and
take your time about it. I am made of sturdier stuff than you might
imagine."

"I may follow her example and unravel a
little each night," Aurelia conceded. "But I refuse to stretch it
out twenty years for you."