The Lady and the Earl (Seabrook Family Saga) (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

“
Who
did you meet? The man’s said to have murdered members of
his own family to gain the title. Oh Amelia––”

“Sebastian, calm down.” Amelia did not know why he made such a fuss.
Surely the man she met did not murder anyone. “I said I met our neighbor, Lord
Bridgeton—”

“Yes, I got that,” Sebastian interrupted, clearly upset by
Amelia’s chance meeting with the earl.

“I don’t believe any of that silly nonsense about him killing anyone.
All you have to do is meet him to know he is harmless,” Amelia said, trying to
calm her brother down.

“Even if he’s innocent of murder, don’t be fooled. No man is ever
harmless, and you would do well to remember that, Amelia.”

Deep breaths, Amelia, deep breaths
. Her brother had been looking
out for her for the past year and a half while the two of them had traveled in
America. Now that they were back in England, she felt he could rest easy. They
were all safe and back home where they belonged. Although, there was still
tension in the family. Amelia hoped her two brothers would reconcile
someday––but that was between them and Wentworth’s wife, Emma. Amelia did not
know the reason Sebastian had abruptly gone to America in the first place,
except he’d had a falling out with their brother and it had something to do
with Emma.

“Perhaps we could do the neighborly thing and invite the earl to tea?”

“I don’t think so,” Sebastian said. “We leave for London in a week.
Mother’s expecting us. She insists both of us socialize this Season.”

Amelia’s heart sank at her brother’s words. Her fear at having to
attend another London Season was just realized. “Won’t everyone wonder where
I’ve been? Yes, well—they know I’ve been in America traveling with you—but
won’t they wonder why?” To disappear for a year and a half, shortly after the
death of Daniel, would have the tongues wagging amongst the
ton
. Indeed,
some of the old ladies had done just that already.

Could Amelia hold her chin up as if she had nothing to hide, nothing to
be ashamed of?

How could her mother ask such a thing of her now? She would much prefer
to stay here with her one-year-old daughter, Olivia, and her maid, Gretchen.
Her daughter meant the world to her. And when she left for London, Amelia knew
Olivia and Gretchen would have to stay in the country. Olivia and Amelia looked
so much alike that her child’s parentage was obvious.

If anyone saw them together they would immediately know whose child she
was, and all their secrecy and seclusion would be for naught. Amelia would be
good and properly ruined, and Olivia would face a lifetime of contempt and
isolation.

Did Amelia care?
Not for herself, but for her family and for
Olivia. Each time Olivia held out her arms to Gretchen, Amelia’s maid, Amelia’s
heart cracked a little bit wider. What a terrible thing…not to be able to
acknowledge her daughter as her own. Mayhap someday she could. Perhaps she
should tell Daniel’s family about Olivia. Wouldn’t Daniel’s family want to know
they had a grandchild? That a part of Daniel lived? Guilt ate at her insides
over this struggle.

No matter how many times her mother and siblings told her not to feel
ashamed, deep down inside, where she answered to no one but herself and God,
she was. Now that she planned to leave her daughter here, to go off to balls
and soirées in London, Amelia’s guilty pain and shame tripled.

The sound of her brother clearing his throat brought Amelia out of her
woolgathering.

“People will always talk. But you’re the sister of a duke, which means
the talk will be minimized.” Sebastian paced to the window in the drawing room
and peered out into the bright afternoon sun. “Let them talk. They will soon
know there’s nothing to talk about.”

“But there is.”

Sebastian swung around and narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, but they
don’t know that.”

“This conversation is giving me a headache.” Before Amelia plopped
herself down onto the royal-blue velvet settee, she rang for tea.

Once the tea arrived, Sebastian sat beside her and reached for her
hand. “I know I’ve not been the easiest brother the past year and a half, with
me taking over Hamilton Oil for Wentworth, and for being a man when you needed
a woman to help you through.”

Amelia squeezed her brother’s hand and ignored the tears, once again
pooling in her eyes. “You helped me more than you’ll ever know.” When her
brother’s eyes lit up, she smiled and the crushing weight eased off her chest
slightly. Maybe it was true when her mama said her broken heart would heal with
time.

“You’ve not seen our brother or Emma since you left for America. Are
you anxious?” Amelia asked Sebastian.

Now Sebastian squeezed her hand. “Yes. I made an ass of myself.” His
eyes flicked to hers and his face paled. “Excuse me, Amelia. I meant I made an idiot
of myself. I never told you the story, but I had asked Emma to marry
me
.”

“You did?”

“As much as I wish it were not true, it is. I believed myself in love
with her. She, of course, tried to refuse my proposal, but I made her think on
it. The next thing I knew, I found Emma in Wentworth’s arms in the library and
I flew into a rage. I tackled our brother right there in front of Emma. Never
mind the hateful things I said to both of them. How can they ever forgive me? I
would not be forgiving if the roles were reversed.”

“You would,” Amelia said, surprised by her brother’s confession.

Sebastian’s eyes met hers again. “You don’t know what I said.”

“It couldn’t be all that bad if our brother did not kill you.”

That brought a grin to Sebastian’s lips. “He probably would have except
Emma got in between the two of us to stop the fight.”

Amelia gasped. “She did?”

He nodded his head. “She did, and without a care to her well-being. And
I’ll never forget the look on her face.” He paused abruptly. “I’ve said too
much.”

“Yes, you did. I’ll forget you said anything. I can hardly wait to see
little Hamilton. He must be a year old now.” Amelia gave Sebastian’s hand a
little squeeze. “Nearly the same age as Olivia.”

He squeezed back. “It’ll be difficult, for both of us.”

“Yes, it will.” Amelia pulled her hand out of her brother’s grasp,
stood up, and approached the window. “I believed Daniel and I would marry. How
could we have known he would die? To be truthful, I loved him deeply with all
my body, heart, and soul. Those memories are enough to sustain me for a
lifetime.”

“Are they?” Sebastian’s words traveled across the room. They echoed the
ones in her head. To have loved and been truly loved in return should be
enough. Had to be enough. Except now that Amelia had experienced love, she
missed it. Missed the lightness in her chest, the dizziness in her head, the
knowing someone loved her as she loved him.

Did a better feeling exist in the world?

***

For several days in a row Amelia ventured to her favorite spot by the
stream.

Each day she spent time with Lord Bridgeton.

Each day she found herself pulled closer toward him.

Each day she glimpsed more and more of his soul, of the man he really
was––a man so removed from Society’s gossip about him. How had her fascination
with him come about in such a short time? Amelia had fallen in love with Daniel
at first sight, could it be happening again with the earl? When she was with
him, deep down inside her soul, it felt right. He seemed right. How was she to
survive the Season in London when her heart belonged here in the country with
her daughter? And maybe, quite possibly, with the earl.
I hardly know the
earl. I cannot think I love him, will not allow myself to love him.

There were only a few more days left before she travelled to London.
The thought created a panic inside her chest. She would be separated from her
lovely daughter for weeks, and she would miss the daily meetings she had at the
stream with her neighbor, Lord Bridgeton. Here she was again at the stream.
Hoping, though she told herself she did not come to the stream exclusively to
see him. She kept telling herself that, even though her eyes darted around and
her ears listened for any sound or movement. And when there was no sign of him,
Amelia tried not to acknowledge that the slowing of her heart confirmed her
disappointment.

Amelia sat down on a large rock, removed her boots and stockings and
waded into the chilly stream. Something had changed in her of late. She did not
come to the stream to daydream about Daniel and his intense green eyes.
Instead, pale blue eyes kept appearing.

“Hello.”

Oh, my!
Her hand flew to her chest as her heart jumped at the
sound of his deep, seductive voice. The warmth of it curled around her body.
How did he
do
that? With her back toward him, Amelia whirled about and
walked toward his side of the stream. Actually, with all the dry weather of
late, which was so unusual, it resembled a trickling brook more than a stream.

“Lord Bridgeton, how nice it is to see you again.” He seemed different today
than in days past. Tilting her head to one side she studied his face. Oh, yes,
his
eyes.
They were clear, no obvious pain clouding them now.

“Don’t you think it’s time you called me William?” he suggested. “The
title belonged to my brother and to my father before him. I never thought it
fit me.” Some desolate emotion wavered in his eyes, then disappeared.

“If I am to call you William, you must call me Amelia.” Dear Lord, if
her mother found out about this private conversation with the Earl of Bridgeton
and his request to call him by his Christian name, she would surely have the
vapors. “If I may ask, what brings you to this stream today Lord…William?” What
a silly question. Ever since their first meeting, they had come here daily
hoping to see each other. So why was Amelia playing coy?

William’s lips curled into a devilishly handsome smile. It lit up his
eyes, making him look years younger. Mayhap William was not as old as Amelia
had first thought. Surely not any older than five-and-thirty, though her first
guess had been around forty at least.

“Do I make you nervous?” William asked as he ventured closer.

“Yes… I mean, no.” Suddenly her feet became her focal point. Even so,
Amelia watched William’s hand reach out toward her. Behaviors ingrained in her over
the years had her wanting to step back. She didn’t, though, and held her breath
as his fingers lightly touched her chin, then tilted her head up though her
eyes stayed downcast.

“Look at me,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” William whispered, close to her ear, his warm breath
caressing her cheek.

Amelia could not look at him for fear he would see the truth in her
eyes. The truth that she found him interesting and handsome and that she
possibly desired him––that simply would not do. She could not desire anyone
else. She could never be with anyone again. An innocent twenty-year-old should
not know desire. Even though she was no innocent, he could not know that.

“I’m sorry, I must go.” As she turned to walk back across the stream,
his hand reached out and touched her arm briefly.

“Please don’t go. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.” William
walked over toward a large flat rock, sat down, and patted the empty spot
beside him. “Please sit with me awhile.”

Amelia, hearing the note of loneliness in his voice, sat down next to
the earl, deciding to stay for a while. She smoothed her skirts, covered her
bare feet with them, and kept a proper distance between their two bodies. “Tell
me, William, what do you do all day here in the country?”

“Besides running the estate? I enjoy looking over the cliffs out into
the English Channel. I watch the repairs being made to Dover Castle. I spend
time here.”

“Don’t you get lonely?” Amelia asked as she swatted away a bumblebee.

“Sometimes.”

“I’m leaving for London in three days,” she admitted, “and I don’t know
exactly when I’ll return. I suppose when the Season ends in late June.”
Amelia’s heart lodged in her throat. London? She did not want to go to London.
Why did her mother insist she have another Season? Amelia fought down the panic
rising up inside her. She would not make a scene in front of William. Besides,
she learned long ago how to control her panic attacks.

***

William, becoming serious, stood up and held out his hand to Amelia,
offering her his assistance. “Come, I’ll walk you across the stream and see you
home.”

When she placed her small soft hand in his, his skin itched from the
heat of the contact. The afternoon hours he spent with Amelia, brief though
they were, had him experiencing more soft emotions than in all the past twelve
years combined. Emotions he thought long dead and buried. Until recently, he
believed nothing would ever again move him…

Touch him…

Intrigue him…

Then along came a brooding young lady full of secrets, and his world
had turned to vivid shades of color. No more dull and lifeless gray.

“Are you excited for your visit to London?” The pain associated with
her planned departure settled deep within his bones. How he wished she did not
have to go. In a perfect world, which did not exist, she would stay here and
become his friend. Maybe more.

William had believed he had everything in life he needed. Until he met
Amelia and realized he wanted more. Wanted more than the loneliness he lived
with daily.

The stream was far behind them now, and still she had not answered his
query. So he repeated it. “Are you excited for your visit to London?”

“I’m sorry, my mind wandered. To tell the truth, I would much rather
stay here. I already had a Season and would rather not repeat the experience.”
It wasn’t the words she said but the melancholy way she expressed them that
piqued William’s interest.