Scandalous Endeavors (Ladies and Scoundrels Book 1) (7 page)

SCANDALOUS ENDEAVORS

CHAPTER SIX

Amelia clutched a
copy of
Old Saint Paul’s
written by William Harrison Ainsworth. She desperately tried to read the words on the page in front of her. The novel and its story of historical London had infatuated her yesterday. As tales of the great plague unfolded, she could not take her eyes from the pages. Tonight her attention remained riveted on the quartet’s music that seeped into the library. Trying to ignore it proved impossible. She marked her spot in the book, then placed it on the table next to her.

The longer she waited for Sarah to appear, the more restless she became. She stood up and paced between the warm crackling fire that danced in the hearth and the wall lined with leather bound books across from it. The duchess’s library was extensive, and included titles from all of the world’s most noteworthy authors. It seemed entirely possible that one could learn about any topic desired from the novels contained on those shelves.

Music drifting from the ballroom reverberated through the library and filled her head as she paced. Oh, how she wished to dance! What would it hurt if she did? She was quite alone. Amelia abandoned propriety and twirled, her feet carrying her across the great expanse. The rhythm of the quartet washed over her like a soothing salve for her soul. It relaxed her in varying degrees. She imagined herself wearing a stunning ball gown and dancing in the arms of the Duke of Goldstone. In life, he proved to be an infuriating Scottish lord, but in her fantasy...he became an English lord, and quite pleasant to spend time with.

A blush crept across her cheeks as she imagined him whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Amelia twirled back toward the hearth, batting her lashes in a flirtatious way, then smiled and curtsied to her imaginary partner as the song reached its conclusion. Smirking at her mischievousness, she sauntered back to the settee before retrieving her book from the table. Surely she would be able to focus now. She opened it, her gaze settling on the words. But her loneliness and grief crept back in. Her chest tightened with sorrow as she recalled the last time she danced with papa. The scent of his cologne, the expert way he guided her through the dance. She had felt safe in his strong embrace. Papa always had that effect on her. Dashing away the tears with her handkerchief, she attempted to read.

“In the plague-pit,” replied Pillichody. “I attended him during his illness. It was his second attack of the disorder. He spoke of you.”

“Did he--dear little fellow!” she exclaimed. “Oh, what did he say?”

“‘Tell her,’ he cried,” rejoined Pillichody, “‘that my last thoughts were of her.’“

Her tears flowed freely as she closed the book. Reading about death would not help her to escape her own sorrow. Upon standing, she walked to the large window and worked to regain her composure while she gazed out at the stars.

A swish of skirts pulled her attention back to her surroundings. She turned from the window and her gaze landed on Sarah standing in the doorway. The color of her new gown did accentuate her eyes, making them appear richer and darker. The color and design of the frock complemented her well indeed. “You are positively breathtaking, Sarah! Every lord here will sign your dance card.” Amelia beamed at her.

Sarah spun around and her skirts flared out around her. “Did I not tell you it was a marvelous gown? The dressmaker certainly outdid herself.” Sarah brushed her hand across her skirt. “I feel like royalty adorned in such a stunning gown.”

Amelia smiled despite her sullen mood. “It is perfect, Sarah, and you are quite right. It does become you.”

“How you flatter me, Amelia. You are causing a blush.” Sarah opened her fan and attempted to cool her face. “Have you decided how to become entwined in my brother’s arms?” She grinned deviously.

No, I have thought only of the Duke of Goldstone
. Amelia sighed. “I have a few ideas. When do you plan to send him in?”

“I am thinking after the midnight meal so the ball does not get ruined by the scandal. Once you are caught, it is all anyone will want to speak of. Surely it will put a damper on the festivities,” Sarah said.

“I hate to wait that long, but alas, you are right. No one will care much about the ball after my little scene.” Her cheeks warmed. “It would be disrespectful of me to take away her grace’s success with my scandal.” Amelia glanced toward the door, then back to Sarah. “You’d better be going.”

“Yes, people will start to wonder where I have gone. I will be back following the meal.” Sarah’s face lit with excitement when she turned and disappeared from the room, leaving Amelia to her own devices. The next time she saw Sarah, it would be from the confines of Lord Roseington’s arms. She had found the thought of it exciting just a few days hence. Now it seemed to have lost a great deal of its previous appeal. True, Lord Roseington was a rich and handsome lord, but he failed to cause the delicious strange feelings that tormented her when the Duke of Goldstone came near.
Why?

She did not love the duke. In fact, Amelia could barely tolerate the rogue. Of course, she did not love Lord Roseington either. Both men were attractive, but she got on better with Lord Roseington. His company was quite pleasurable, unlike the duke who was positively vexing. What did it matter anyway? She did not need to feel internal flutters in order to marry a man. Mama once told her desire could be dangerous; that must be what she felt around the duke. None of it would matter once she married Lord Roseington, and she would marry him.

Amelia picked the book back up and buried her mind in the fascinating tale it had to share. She read for hours, devoured the tragic history of her beloved London. Tales of death, disease, and fire etched forever into her mind. The story seemed oddly comforting now. It reminded her she was not the only person in history to experience loss. With blurry eyes from focusing on the words at length, she marked her page and set the book aside, suddenly famished. She rose from her position, stretched, then rang for a servant to bring her sustenance.

Her stomach rumbled with the knowledge that Grace’s guests would soon enjoy a ten-course meal to include veal, sherbet, pigeon pie, cheese, and fancy cakes. It was bad enough she could not enjoy the ball. It would be tragic if she did not eat either. Perhaps she shouldn’t have excluded herself. But alas, even if she attended she would not have been allowed to fully engage. No, she was better off here in the library.

After what seemed like hours, but were merely minutes, a servant entered carrying a large silver tray. He made his way to a nearby table and placed several platters upon it. Amelia rose from her perch on the settee and strolled to the table, taking the chair the servant pulled out for her. Samplings of all the dishes prepared for the ball sat displayed across the table. The appearance and aroma enticed her. “Thank you. I will ring when I have finished.”

“Yes, Lady Amelia.” The servant walked out, leaving Amelia to her meal.

She ate greedily, consuming as much of the fine food as her corseted waist would allow. Feeling satisfied, she summoned a servant to take away what remained. The task had barely been completed when she heard the telltale chiming that announced the midnight meal. Apprehension mixed with excitement cascaded through her body. Lord Roseington would enter her trap soon.

After moving to a chaise she arranged herself in an attractive manner, her skirts smoothed out and torso regally straight. Picking up her needlework, she set about embroidering. She wanted to be the perfect image of a refined lady when Lord Roseington entered the room. Pushing and pulling the needle along, she worked at forming delicate daisies on the cloth that would become a handkerchief for the duchess. Amelia planned to gift it as a way to thank Grace for assisting in her endeavor.

Amelia’s heart soared when she heard music drifting once again into the library. At any moment, he would enter and she would be ready. In and out the needle moved as she imagined how she would land in Lord Roseington’s arms. The clearing of a voice garnered her attention. She looked up into his eyes.

“Lady Amelia, how nice to see you.” Lord Roseington moved farther into the room. “I hope I am not intruding. Lady Sarah has requested me to retrieve a novel for her,” he explained, a cautious smile on his face.

Amelia beamed back, in an attempt to make herself visually appealing despite the widow’s weeds. “You are no intrusion at all,” she replied. “Quite the opposite really, I am happy to see a kind face. My days have grown so desolate and boring.” Amelia sighed audibly. “Oh how I do go on. I am sorry, Lord Roseington. Please get what you came for and forget what I have said.”

He scowled, “How am I to forget a dear friend’s sorrow? Would it help ease your burden if I stayed for a moment?”

She continued to gaze into his hazel eyes, noticing their color for the first time. “Actually, Lord Roseington, if you truly want to help me feel better”--she batted her lashes--“what I desire the most at this moment is to dance.” She smiled sweetly, but noticed her body’s lack of reaction to him. Where were the tingles? The racing pulse brought on by the duke? Lord Roseington was just as handsome. Why did she feel nothing in his presence?

Lord Roseington appeared thoughtful for a moment, then frowned deeply. “Lady Amelia, I care about your comfort but...”

“I know it is scandalous. Forgive me, I should not have asked. I am just so weary of mourning, and isolation; I thought a dance would help me forget, if only for a moment.” She turned and walked toward the hearth, feigning embarrassment.

“You must not be upset, Lady Amelia. One dance will be all right. I do not suppose it would hurt anyone.”

She slowly turned to face him and placed her hand in his outstretched one. “Thank you, Lord Roseington. I adore dancing, and it has been saddening me a great deal to sit in here and hear the quartet play, knowing all the while that I could not dance among my peers.”

He held her in the proper manner. “I assure you, Lady Amelia, it is my honor to dance with you.”

She tipped her chin up, making contact with his hazel eyes, and giggled. His arms felt warm and strong wrapped around her as they waltzed across the library, but she could not help but wonder why she did not feel excited.
Focus on the plan, Amelia
. She listened carefully to the music.

Amelia misstepped, effectively tripping him, as the music came to an end. Lord Roseington fell onto the chaise, where she landed in his lap. His arms wrapped tightly around her small waist. Amelia placed her hands behind his neck with ease and looked into his eyes. “Please forgive my clumsiness. I do not know what came over me.” She grinned when his eyes seemed to soften.

“You have no reason to apologize.” He turned his head toward the room’s entrance, then stood so quickly that she stumbled before finding her footing.

Amelia followed his stare, fully expecting to see Lady Sarah standing there. Her heart skipped a beat. The Duke of Goldstone filled the space, and her gaze locked with his. She glanced back at Lord Roseington, who paled considerably.

Lord Roseington stepped away from her. “I came to retrieve a book for my sister; this is not what it looks like. Lady Amelia tripped and--”

“You have no need to explain to me, Roseington. I care not what you do.” He turned his gaze on her and smirked roguishly. “Lady Amelia’s reputation will not be tarnished on my account.”

Had he noticed the angry heat ensconced on her cheeks? He peered at her devilishly, then chuckled and shook his head. Amelia’s heart pounded against her ribs and a throbbing developed between her thighs. How did he always manage to make that happen to her?

Lady Sarah traipsed into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of them. Her eyes met Amelia’s for nary a moment before they turned to her brother, “Pray tell, what is going on here?”

His Grace answered, “Nothing at all. Roseington came to get your book and I came to check on Lady Amelia.” He did not allow anyone else the chance to speak. “Come now, Roseington, let us retrieve that novel and leave Lady Amelia in peace. She’s in grieving you know.”

“Of course, Your Grace, you have no need to remind me.” He walked to the bookshelf and pulled one of the leather bound volumes. Turning abruptly, he moved to his sister’s side. “Here you are,” he said, handing her the book. Then took her elbow and led her away, leaving Amelia alone with the Duke of Goldstone.