The Ardent Lady Amelia (16 page)

When she suggested the excursion to Trudy, her aunt was horrified. “You’re not serious! You haven’t had a single offer yet this year. And this was the year you were going to accept someone! No, no, it won’t do. We can’t be rushing off to Margrave until this matter is settled.”

Amelia glared at her. “I’m not going to marry just anyone, Aunt Trudy. If I haven’t found someone yet, another few weeks aren’t going to do the trick. Surely you must see that.”

“But you
have
found someone,” Trudy insisted, clasping her pudgy hands together in an excess of torment. “It will only take a few weeks to bring him up to scratch. Trust me in these matters, my dear.”

Since Trudy had never been married, it was the height of folly, so far as Amelia was concerned, for her to profess knowledge in the ways of men and matrimony. “Nonsense,” Amelia replied briskly, and steeled herself to add, “If you are speaking of Lord Verwood, I can assure you you’re fair and far out, my dear aunt.”

“But he’s shown a decided interest in you recently!”

“Pooh! The only interest Lord Verwood has in me is to embarrass me whenever possible.”

Trudy looked astonished. “Whatever can you mean? Don’t think I didn’t notice that he attended every event we did for weeks. And he danced with you, when he seldom dances at all. He rode home from the park with you and took you on that ill-conceived expedition to the East End. Then he drove in the park with you. He escorted us to the Bramshaws’ ball.”

“And disappeared without a by-your-leave,” Amelia reminded her.

“Nonsense! His leg was bothering him. You can’t have forgotten that. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I’m convinced if he hadn’t felt the greatest affinity for you, he would never have been so ungallant as to leave us there without an escort. Why, he hasn’t been in town since, has he? It had nothing to do with you, my dear. But if we were to leave and go to Margrave, why, he’d forget who you were before we returned.”

“I’m sure that’s precisely as I would wish it.”

Trudy studied the stubborn face across from her. “I see how it is,” she grumbled. “You’ve taken one of your pets, and now you’ll turn the whole household upside down so you can have your way. And what of Peter? This is a most important time for him to be in town. If we leave, he certainly won’t come with us.”

“Oh, he must. I can’t like travelling without him. He can come right back, of course.”

Her air of innocence did not fool Trudy for a moment. She gave a low moan and slumped back against her chair. “Oh, wretched girl. I can’t think what’s gotten into you.” Her eyelids, which had fluttered down to cover the astute brown eyes, suddenly popped open again and she stared at her niece for an uncomfortable length of time. Eventually she nodded, as though satisfied with her conclusion, and said, “Very well. I’ll ask Peter if he won’t accompany us to Margrave.”

* * * *

Trudy was as good as her word. It wasn’t even necessary for Amelia to speak with her brother, because her aunt had already handled the matter. All that was left for Amelia was to send her regrets to the hostesses they would be forced to disoblige, and to arrange through Robert for the Carsons’ agreement. This latter never seemed much in doubt to Amelia, though she was relieved when the footman brought her word that the family would be ready and waiting whenever Robert had arranged for their transportation.

As their travelling carriage left the crowded city behind, Amelia gave a sigh and leaned back against the upholstery, smiling benignly out the window at Peter, who rode alongside them, not looking the least perturbed at being so abruptly wrenched from his beloved. Matters could not have progressed to such an advanced stage as she’d feared, Amelia thought, hearing his merry whistle as he rode. Probably he was as relieved as she to be headed once again to Margrave. Even Trudy seemed smugly satisfied as she napped in the corner, a beatific smile on her face.

Their route lay through River Head and Tunbridge, and everywhere the countryside around them sparkled with the freshness of spring. At Flimwell they stopped to dine at the Golden Arms, where they were greeted with warmth and shown to a lovely private parlor that Amelia remembered from far back into her childhood. She could recall going with her mother to freshen up, and returning to find her father and brother already quaffing a pint to wash the dust of the road from their throats. The memory made her own throat ache, but she smiled brightly at her companions and said, “Oh, isn’t it the perfect time to be out in the country again? Have you smelled anything so rich and wonderful as this farmland? I can hardly wait to see Margrave again.”

No one disagreed with her. Peter nodded amiably and Trudy helped herself to a second portion of salmon, saying, “You don’t get fish this fresh in London.”

It was only midafternoon when the carriage bypassed Rye to turn toward Winchelsea. Margrave was located approximately halfway between the two towns, set off the military road, and hidden from it by an enormously high hedge.

There was a broad piece of water beyond the hedge, where the Brede was adapted as part of the Royal Military Canal, with elevated banks designed as defensive works. The road crossed the water by a bridge, where most traffic doubled back to mount the height to Winchelsea — and a secondary road turned to the left, where it eventually passed through the gates of Margrave, seat of the Earls of Welsford for more than two centuries.

The date 1601 was carved above the east doorway, which had been the entrance front until forty years previously. Possibly the building would have appeared flat, with its three superimposed tiers of enormous mullioned windows extending across a facade almost two hundred feet wide and ninety feet high, but there were subtle changes like the porch and wings, or the Flemish-type gables, or the shallow bay windows at the ends of the wings, that gave it a real excitement. And there were the marvelous Elizabethan pavilions flanking the original forecourt, purposeless but beautiful, in which Amelia and Peter had played as children.

It was the west front they approached now, however, the brilliant conception of their grandfather. He had bought the porch and ornamental features of a late-Tudor house in the area that was about to be torn down, and fitted them between the two wings of the west front. Not only was the stone a perfect match for that of Margrave, but the detailing was so exquisitely similar it would have taken an expert to tell the difference. The adaptation was not only a work of beauty, however. By adding it to the front of the building, the third earl had achieved internal corridors on the first and second storeys where previously one had had to pass through one bedchamber to reach another.

There were still inconveniences in the place, of course, such as the seventy-yard walk from the kitchens to the family dining room, but the house was wonderfully light and airy, for all its heavy stone. Each huge room had huge windows, where sunlight glinted through the glass at marvelous angles, making everything sparkle within. Amelia could see the light flashing off the diamond-shaped panes as they drove up to the porch, and she was the first one to leap down from the carriage and rush up the three shallow steps to the front door just as it was opened by Bighton.

Amelia grinned at him, knowing he must be as delighted as she to once again be at Margrave. “How does everything look, Bighton?” she asked, casting a loving glance about the Great Hall. The hardwood floors shone, the ancestral portraits gleamed in the light from the windows at the end of the room.

“As always, Mrs. Lawson has everything in perfect shape, Lady Amelia,” he replied. “She’s already preparing the extra chambers.”

“Extra chambers?”

Trudy and Peter had followed her into the hall and watched her confusion with perfect equanimity. When Bighton made no attempt to enlighten her, Trudy said comfortably, “Yes, we’ll need the rooms by tomorrow for M. and Mlle. Chartier.”

“And Verwood, of course,” Peter added, allowing Bighton to relieve him of his gloves and hat.

Chapter 12

From any one of the four windows in the library, Amelia could see the carriage drive that led to the west front of Margrave. She felt sure the eager Chartiers would be the first to arrive. The Carsons wouldn’t arrive by the carriage drive at all, of course, but by the back road that would take them around to the smattering of cottages nearer the old Camber Castle ruins. Robert had arranged for their transportation, and was to accompany them all the way from London. Amelia wasn’t likely to hear of their arrival until they were settled into their new home.

It would have been quite enough for Amelia to cope with the Chartiers’ unexpected visit without the added burden of knowing that Verwood was coming. She stared at the rainbow created on her hands by the colored glass armorial bearings in the upper rows of the windows, wondering how on earth she was to behave with the viscount. Surely he would think Peter had invited him to court her, and the very thought made Amelia cringe with despair. Even if he gave no such interpretation to the invitation (and Amelia supposed that was possible, considering his total lack of social finesse), what in the name of all that was dear was she supposed to do with him while Peter spent his time with Mlle. Chartier?

Since Trudy had had an obvious part in the underhanded scheme, she could be the one to entertain
both
M. Chartier and Lord Verwood, for all Amelia cared. All her clever plans were going awry and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do about it. Except spend a great deal of time with the Carsons, helping them adjust to their new surroundings. But Amelia couldn’t really imagine they would need much assistance from her, or that they would welcome her interference.

A distant clattering of hooves made Amelia raise her head and sigh. She rose and walked to the largest of the windows, where she could see out beyond the green parkland to the gates. A carriage was just coming through them, but it wasn’t the travelling carriage she had expected. It was a curricle drawn by a pair of fine-looking bays.

Now, how had he managed that? she wondered. Those were never post horses. He must have spent the night on the road and driven only a stage or two this morning. As he drew closer, she could see that he wore a drab driving coat with two shoulder capes, a rather elegant piece of apparel—for him.

She did not intend to go down and greet him. Let Trudy or Peter be the one to welcome him to Margrave. Heaven knew
she
wasn’t glad he was here. But the patter of footsteps rapidly approaching the library ended in Trudy bursting into the room, an enormous smile on her face. “He’s here!” she announced almost breathlessly. “I heard the carriage from my room. Come along, dear. You look lovely.”

Did she? Amelia managed to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror above a mule-chest in the hall. There was still some color in her cheeks from her early-morning ride and the jaconet muslin gown’s shade of pale blue looked satisfactory on her, she supposed. There wasn’t time to do anything with her hair, if she was to follow Trudy’s clattering progress down the broad stone staircase. Her aunt hadn’t stopped talking since she poked her head into the library.

“Imagine his being so early! I had no idea anyone would arrive before this afternoon.” She swung around to impress a coy look on Amelia, who was several steps behind her. “It just shows how eager he is to be here. I hope you’ve been thinking of ways to entertain him, Amelia. After the bustle of London, a gentleman expects a little diversion.”

“He hasn’t spent much time in London recently,” Amelia  grumbled, nearly tripping over the skirts of her gown on the quarter-landing.

“Well, he was certainly back in time for Peter to invite him, wasn’t he? And accepted with alacrity, I haven’t a doubt in the world. Now, you’re not in the habit of being especially pleasing to gentlemen, my dear, and you’ll have to take my advice in how to handle him. I should have sat up with you last night to go over a few things, but, there, I was so tired from the journey. Never mind. I’ll just coach you as the visit progresses.”

Amelia conscientiously held back a sharp retort. As they had emerged from the north staircase into the hall, Lord Verwood was just being shown into the house. He looked devilishly handsome in the driving coat with his unruly black hair barely tamed by the hand he drew through it as he removed his hat. Trudy twittered happily as she trotted over to him.

“How nice it is to see you again! You’ve never been to Margrave, have you? Well, we’ve set aside one of the loveliest suites for you, Lord Verwood. There’s a view of the water, of course. Your own property is inland, so I thought you would especially appreciate that.”

“Thank you, Miss Harting, that’s very kind of you.” His gaze moved back to the foot of the staircase, where Amelia still stood, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment of her.

She found herself piqued at this small gesture and moved stiffly forward to say, “I hope your knee is no longer troubling you, Lord Verwood.”

“Very little. I’ve had the opportunity to rest it for the last week or so.”

Amelia found this a very unlikely story, and her cool stare told him as much, but he merely grinned at her. “So long as you don’t have me chasing any more thieves, I dare say it will heal entirely in no time.”

“I wasn’t the one who set you to chasing thieves,” she reminded him. “That was your own idea of proper conduct under the circumstances.”

“You’d have had me let him get away with your purse?” he asked rhetorically as he drew that item, carefully laundered, from the pocket of the voluminous driving coat and extended it to her. “I think you’ll find everything intact.”

As Amelia reluctantly accepted her property, Trudy swung a suspicious gaze between the two of them. “Thieves? You don’t mean to say someone tried to steal Amelia’s reticule when you went to that distressing area of London?”

Verwood nodded and Trudy dredged up a prodigious frown with which to regard her niece. “You see? Didn’t I warn you it wasn’t safe to go there? And you never mentioned a word of all this to me.”

“There wasn’t the least need for you to concern yourself. Under Lord Verwood’s protection,” she added, her voice rich with irony, “I was never in any danger. Why, you would have been enormously impressed with how heroic he was, Aunt Trudy. The child who grabbed my purse stood almost to his waist. A dangerous ruffian, I promise you. And his lordship strained his knee in giving chase to the lad. Truly a commendable act of bravery.”