To Tame a Dragon (15 page)

“Oh, my dear. Already I have dashed your
expectations. I fear it takes me
hours
to put Lord
Nighting together.”

“Do you ever wonder if it is worth all the
work? You’ll just have to start again tomorrow.”

He pulled her toward him until she laid
pressed against him. “I only wonder if it is worth the trouble when there is something more
entertaining to do.”

“Do you think there is something more
entertaining to do today?”

He smiled. “That’s funny. I was going to ask
the same of you.”

She rolled on top of him, pulling the covers over their heads, and he grinned.
“I wondered how long it would take before you insisted on leading here as well.
I suppose it will ever be a surprise to see who lands on top in our bedsport.”

“It does seem only fair for me to get my turn as well.”

He nodded his acquiescence as she slid down his body. “Oh, absolutely. Lead on, my dear.”

And Amelia was gratified to learn that Jameson was susceptible to her sharp tongue, after all.

After a short honeymoon in the country, they
returned to town. The country was all well and good but they
both enjoyed the entertainments of London too much. He to preen,
and she to dispense much-needed advice.

Jameson came in from a fruitful day of being
seen and admired and pecked her cheek. “My dear, I believe I’m
in a spot of trouble.”

Amelia set her cup of tea down gently and
raised her eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me, one week after our
marriage, that you have gambled away my dowry, are having
trouble with a past mistress, or will be dueling with some fool
over a slight about our hasty marriage.”

Jameson coughed back a laugh. “Quite right,
my dear. It’s none of those—at least I don’t think so.”

He looked at her stern face and laughed
again. “It’s just I was followed in town today. Three separate
men followed me for a short time, then disappeared.” He’d been
quite put out that none had stayed to play.

“Followed you? Are you sure?”

“I assure you, my dear, they were not hard to
miss, and it’s not that common of an occurrence. I have a
distressingly boring habit of paying my bills.” He fingered his
waistcoat. “A happy tradesman is a fast tradesman.”

“You do have strange philosophies, my dear.
But I do not like the thought of you being followed. Perhaps you
should take care for a while; keep Robin with you, or a footman
if you must.”

“I was thinking the same of you. You’ve not
noticed any strange fellows following you about?”

She thought for a moment. “No. Were they
ruffians?”

“Gentlemen.”

“That’s even stranger. I shall take care.”
She rose. “I am off to visit Clarice.” She held up a hand to
forestall his objections. “Yes, I will take a footman.”

Jameson made a face. “Better you than me.
Will she even see you?”

“Of course she will see me. We must come to
terms. I still have every intention of finding her a suitable
husband and the season is rapidly coming to a close.”

“I will warn you, Amelia. She is more vicious
than she seems.”

“Since she seems as vicious as a sparrow that
is not saying much. I shall take care to protect my lower
extremities.”

He glared at her. “You are not funny at all.”

She suppressed her smile and kissed him on
the cheek. “No, my dear. I leave that for you.”

Despite her assurances, Amelia was not at all
certain Clarice would see her. And indeed, she was turned away
at the door. Normally, this would not trouble her overmuch but
the butler looked down at her and said, “It is of no use, my
lady. I have strict instructions that you, specifically, shall
not gain entrance.”

Amelia was quite taken aback. First, at being
denied entrance and second, at how direct the butler was in
informing her of that.

Since she was in a perpetual good mood,
largely in thanks to Jameson and his night-time
activities—though she would die before saying so—, she declared
her loss a good show on Clarice’s part. The girl was becoming
quite the worthy opponent.

 However, one may win the battle without
winning the war. And Clarice, though learning quickly, was still
young, with little experience in protracted skirmishes. To
Amelia’s view, society was nothing if not one long protracted
skirmish.

Amelia had the footman, really they did come
in handy, pay a boy to watch the Underwood house and come inform
her when the young lady left. Clarice would be giddy with her
victory and one does not stay home in solitude when one is
giddy.

And indeed, she did not have to wait long
before the footman, via information from the boy, informed her
that Clarice had gone shopping. Amelia quickly gave chase and
ran poor Miss Underwood down at a perfumery.

“Oh, Miss Underwood, is this where you buy
your delightful scent? Apricot, is it?”

Clarice squeaked and whirled around to gape
at Amelia.

Amelia said, “I prefer cloves, it has more of a bite to
it.”

Clarice finally schooled her face and turned
away from her, giving her the cut direct.

Amelia looked around the nearly empty shop
and chuckled. “That only works when there are others to see you
do it. And having been the recipient of it before, I assure you I am
immune to the slight. Perhaps if I felt I deserved it, it would
hurt more.”

Clarice whirled back towards her. “You
do
deserve it and more.”

“I’m sorry we disagree on the point. Perhaps
you would like to discuss it in a more private setting?”

Clarice looked around the shop. “You were
just saying how empty it was here.”

“True, but I have recently been introduced to
the therapeutic benefits of a good rant. I am inviting you to my
home to have at it, Clarice. Tell me, in as heated a tone as you
can muster, how awful I am and what I have done to you.”

Clarice looked at her with bewilderment. “You
are a strange creature.” She shook her head. “But I have no
desire to run into
him
.”

Amelia blinked in confusion, then laughed at
herself. “Oh, yes. I had forgotten I have a new home. What I
meant, then, was my mother’s home; have you any objection to that
domicile?”

After a little thought, Clarice apparently
decided that she did want to give Amelia a good what for and
they rode in silence to Lady Beckham’s. Clarice stared out the
window and Amelia let her gather her thoughts. It was not
everyday that one was invited to air built up grievances.

Her mother greeted her and Clarice warmly, if
not a little surprised at the company. But she kindly let them
use the library and left them to it. Amelia made herself
comfortable, waving Clarice to begin.

After a few minutes silence, in which Clarice
could not put away her good manners, Amelia said, “I married
him.”

Clarice sprang to her feet. “You
married
him. Was that your goal the whole time? Did you put it into his
head to ruin me? Humiliate me? To leave me a sad story and then
befriend me? Was anything you ever told me
true
!”

She paced around the room, ranting and
raving. At times she was quite unflattering of Amelia’s womanly
attributes, but nothing she said was untrue, or indeed anything
Amelia had not overheard on occasion.

Amelia was gratified that none of Clarice’s
hurt came from her undying love for Jameson. Most came from the
fact that Amelia had, to Clarice’s mind, tricked her and fooled
her. So Amelia listened, and tried hard not to feel the sting.

When Clarice finally wound down, she
slumped into her seat, not looking Amelia in the eye.

Amelia took a deep breath. “There is nothing I
can say that will make you believe me, but I had no intention of
marrying Jameson. I told you the truth when I said he was unfit
for marriage. He wore me down, truthfully. Because, I suspect, I
am also unfit for marriage and together we somehow might make it
work.

“As for your other accusation, I had no hand
in Jameson’s breaking of your engagement. Not that I think it
shouldn’t have been done, but because I flatter myself that I
could have done it with considerably less drama.”

Clarice sniffed.

“Miss Underwood... Clarice. I am sorry beyond
words that you have been hurt by our marriage. I hope one day
you can forgive us. Or, at least me. Jameson can offer his own
apology; although I would not expect it soon. He is quite afraid
of you, much to my amusement.”

Clarice looked up and the bitterness and
anger in her eye told Amelia what she was going to say before
the words left her mouth. “Forgive you? Not even the most
spiteful, underhanded back-biter could have damaged my prospects
as thoroughly as you and Lord Nighting. He, my betrothed. And
you, my friend. I do not forgive you.”

“I do have every hope of finding you a much
better husband than the one you were deprived of.”

“Lady Amelia, I do not want your help. I wish
I had never heard of you or of Lord Nighting.”

She stood and left the room. Amelia stayed
where she was until her mother came in.

“That did not go well, I presume?”

“No.” Amelia shook her head and sighed. “I
feel ill. I do quite like her; I never thought what our marrying
would do to her.”

Her mother nodded. “Poor Miss Underwood. It
is an unfortunate situation. But one that I think is for the
best.”

Amelia looked in surprise at her mother. “Do
you really think so?”

Her mother smiled and cupped her cheek. “He
makes you happy. If I had known how happy you two would be
together I would have sacrificed Miss Underwood myself.”

“But you thought he should have married her
and
they
would have been happy.”

“I was wrong. I do not think Jameson would
have been happy with a woman who couldn’t deal with his need to
express himself.”

Amelia snorted. “That is one way of putting
it.”

“And I don’t think you would have been happy
with a man who couldn’t deal with your need to make everyone
around you happy.”

She gaped at her mother. “Happy!”

“Yes, happy. You see what needs to be done to
make someone happy, and you do it. I have no doubt that despite
Miss Underwood’s anger at you, you have every intention of doing
all you can to find her a husband.”

“Well...”

Her mother leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“I’m sure Miss Underwood will find her happy union, if you have
anything to say about it. Now go home to your husband. I have
need of my library.”

J
ameson was not at home when she arrived,
which was not unexpected. But he did not arrive in time to
dress, nor was he in residence when she went down to the dining
room.

A budding fear, quickly followed by a raging
anger engulfed her. He
told
her he would be careful! Did
he not take a footman or enlist Robin’s company? Men were
following him and he laughed it off.

She paced the length of the table,
envisioning Jameson lying in a gutter. Or a knife sticking out
of his back. A wave of nausea hit her and she sat with a thud.

She was
happy
! He could not be taken
from her now, not now that she knew what it was to feel like
this. To be part of someone so completely that the loss of him
would destroy her.

Was this love? Was this horrible neediness
love?

Her head jerked up as the doors were opened
and Jameson and Robin were led laughing into the dining room. Bruises and
blood covered their faces. Their clothes were dirty and ripped.
They were most definitely drunk.

Amelia rushed to them. “Jameson! Robin! What
has happened!”

The butler settled both men into chairs. “I
believe they have been in a brawl, my lady.”

“Well, I believe it of Jameson, but Robin,
what were you doing in a brawl?”

“I was defending your honor. And we beat the
stuffing out of them, too. You should have seen us, Amelia. We
were extraordinary!”