Tracie Peterson (17 page)

Amelia felt as though a noose were being slipped around her neck. She rose with as much dignity as she could muster. “Your foolishness, not mine, has caused this situation. I find it completely unreasonable that I should be the one to pay for your mistakes. Let Jeffery marry one of my sisters. They both seem quite head-over-heels in love with the man.”

Her father shook his head. “He wants the land that is to pass to you, Amelia. It is the Scottish estate that passes to the eldest that appeals to him.”

“So I am to be sold off for the price of land and the sum of gambling debts?”

“Call it what you will,” her father replied in a voice that suggested deep regret, “but avail yourself to Sir Jeffery in a proper courting manner and settle your mind on the fact that this marriage will take place.”

Later that week while dressing quietly for dinner, Amelia felt a desperation building inside that couldn’t be cast away with the assurance that she’d somehow work things around to her way. Jeffery had lost little time in picking up his pursuit of Amelia and as his attentions became bolder, Amelia was forced to sequester herself to her cabin for fear of what he might do next.

Penelope and Margaret were already talking of returning home and of all the things they would do. Amelia tried to remember her own earlier desires to return to England, but they’d passed from existence and now she wanted instead to remain in Estes. It was almost humorous to her that in the three months they’d spent in America, and Estes in particular, her views about the barbaric ways of the Americans had changed. She had come to look at Marry as a mother image and she cherished the time spent under her tutelage. She’d learned to cook and bake, as well as sew practical garments and quilt. Mary had also shown her how to properly clean house and wash clothes. And when time had permitted, Amelia had even taken lessons in tending the vegetable garden and livestock.

As she pulled on her gloves for dinner she looked at her hands and realized how worn and rough they’d become. Back in England her friend Sarah would be appalled at the sight of calluses upon a lady’s fingers, but Amelia wore them as badges of honor. She’d earned those calluses by working at Mary’s side and she was proud of what she’d accomplished.

“Oh do hurry, Amelia,” Penelope whined. “We’ll never be able to sit down to dinner if you don’t finish getting ready.”

“I, for one, refuse to wait,” Margaret said, grabbing her shawl. “Come along, sister. Amelia will bring herself when she’s ready. Maybe we can corner Sir Jeffery and he’ll tell us more tales of his adventures in China.”

“Oh yes,” Penelope said, nodding her head. “That would be grand.”

They left Amelia in a rush of chatter and anticipation of the night to come. She stared after them through the open door and shook her head. If only she could feel such enthusiasm for Sir Jeffery, none of this might have ever happened. The afterglow of sunset left a haunting amber color to the sky over the mountains. The chill of autumn was approaching and with it came a longing that Amelia could not explain. If only they had never come to America she would never have laid eyes on the Rocky Mountains and never have met Logan Reed.

Logan.

Her heart ached from the very thought of his name. She was hopelessly in love with him, and yet there was nothing to be done about it. Logan was as poor as a church mouse and he could never offer to pay off her father’s debts the way Jeffery could. Her father owed Jeffery over seventy-thousand pounds and even with her trust, the debt would barely be half paid. It was rapidly becoming a hopeless state of circumstances.

“Well, well,” Jeffery announced from the door. “I looked about for you and found you missing.”

“With good reason,” Amelia said rather angrily. “I wasn’t yet ready to present myself at dinner.”

Jeffery leered. “I could help you … dress.”

“As you can see, I’m quite dressed and I suggest you keep your disgusting thoughts to yourself.”

She moved across the room to retrieve her shawl and heard Jeffery close the cabin door. Turning around, she found that he’d already crossed the room. He took hold of her roughly and crushed her against him in a fierce embrace.

“Stop it, Jeffery!” she declared and pushed at his chest.

Jeffery only laughed and held her fast. “You mustn’t put me off. We’re to be man and wife after all. A kiss of passion shared between two lovers is quite acceptable.”

“But you forget. I do not love you,” Amelia answered, kicking Jeffery’s shin as hard as she could.

He immediately released her and Amelia scurried from the room, panting for breath and close to tears. Jeffery had so frightened her with his actions that she was quite uncertain as to what she should do next. Fleeing into the darkness behind the lodge, Amelia waited until her breathing had calmed and her heart stopped racing.
What should I do? What can I do?
Her father had made it quite clear and there was no other answer. She waited several more minutes, knowing that she was keeping everyone from their meal, then with a sigh she went to face them all. Walking slowly, as if to her own execution, Amelia entered the lodge and the dining hall without the slightest desire to be among people.

“Ah, there she is now,” Lord Amhurst announced. “Amelia, dear, come and join us in a toast.”

Amelia looked up and found the entire party staring at her. Everyone seemed quite joyous and Jeffery stood with an expression of sheer pride on his face. They weren’t apparently unhappy with her for the delay of their dinner and instead seemed extremely animated.

“What, might I ask, are we drinking a toast to?” she asked hesitantly.

The earl beamed a smile upon her. “Sir Jeffery has told us that this night you have accepted his hand in marriage.” Her father raised his drink. “We are drinking to you and Sir Jeffery and a long, happy marriage.”

Amelia felt the wind nearly knocked from her. She looked from her father to Jeffery and found a sneering grin on his face. His expression seemed to say, “I told you I would have my way.”

“Well, do come join us,” her father said, rather anxiously. “We’ve waited all summer for this.”

Amelia found it impossible to speak. A lump formed in her throat and tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. Without concern for appearances, she turned and ran from the lodge.

Fleeing down the stairs and into the night, Amelia barely stifled a scream as she ran full-speed into Logan Reed’s arms. She couldn’t see his face but heard his chuckle and felt a sense of comfort in just knowing he was near.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to disentangle her arms from his.

“I’m not. Want to tell me what you were running from?” Amelia felt the tears trickle down her cheeks and a sob escaped her throat. Logan’s voice grew more concerned. “What is it Amelia? What has happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, unable to keep from crying.

He took hold of her upper arms. “You’re crying, so something must be wrong.”

“Just leave me alone.”

His voice was low and husky. “Amelia, I care about your pain and so does God. He can help you through this, even if I can’t.”

She jerked away, angry at the suggestion. “If God cares so much about pain, then why does He let His children suffer? I’m going to my cabin,” she declared and walked away.

Logan was quickly at her side and it wasn’t until she’d opened the door to her still lighted cabin that she could see that he was smiling.

“What? Are you going to laugh at me now?”

“Not at all. It’s just that I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you say what you did about God letting His children suffer.”

“Because you are always throwing your religion and God in my face!” she declared. “You always fall back on that and always use that to settle every issue that has ever arisen between us.”

“Because He is my foundation and my mainstay. God cares about your pain, but haven’t you brought it on yourself? Don’t you hold any responsibility for your own actions?”

“Oh, go away, Logan,” she moaned in sheer misery.
Why did he have to say those things?

With a shrug of his shoulders, Logan surprised her by turning to leave. “I’m gonna pray for you Amelia. I know you’re having a rough time of coming to terms with God, but just remember, He already knows what’s in your heart and He knows the future He holds for you.”

With that he was gone and Amelia closed the door to cry in earnest.
Why is this happening to me and what in the world am I to do about any of it?
Giving up on the world and conscious thought, Amelia stripped off her dinner clothes and pulled on a nightgown. Then, mindless of her sisters, she blew out the lamp and threw herself into bed to have a good long cry.

W
ell, if you ask me,” Penelope began, “I think it positively scandalous the way you put Sir Jeffery off.”

“No one asked you,” Amelia said flatly. She busied herself with quilting and tried to ignore her sisters and the Gambett girls.

“Mother says it is outrageous for you to suppose you will get a better match than Sir Jeffery,” Josephine Gambett said, pushing up her glasses. They immediately slid back down her nose.

“Yes, Mother believes you are seriously jeopardizing your family’s position with the Queen. After all, Sir Chamberlain’s mother is a dear friend of Her Majesty,” Henrietta added, not to be outdone by her sister.

Amelia felt her cheeks burn from the comeuppance of these younger girls. She thought of a hundred retorts, but bit her tongue and continued stitching.

“I think it’s pure selfishness on your part,” Margaret said with a little stomp of her foot. “There are other people to consider in this situation.”

Amelia finally set aside her quilting and looked hard at each of the girls. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I would prefer the company of adults.” With that she got up and, without any conscious plan to do so, made her way to the cabin her father shared with Mattersley. She knew he would be there cleaning his guns and in her mind she formed one last plan to plead her case.

“Father?” she said, knocking lightly upon the open door.

Mattersley shuffled across the room. His face looked pinched and his eyes were sunken. “Come in, Lady Amhurst. The earl is just now occupied with the weapons.”

Amelia smiled at him. Even here in the wilds of America, Mattersley held to the strict code of English propriety. “Thank you, Mattersley.” She started to walk past him then stopped and asked, “How are you feeling? You look a bit tired.”

Mattersley seemed stunned by her concern. “I am well, Miss.”

“You should have some time of to yourself,” she said, glancing to where her father sat. “Father, don’t you agree?”

“Say what?” the earl questioned, looking up.

“I believe Mattersley is working too hard and some time off would serve him well.”

“Oh, well yes,” her father said, genuinely seeming to consider this. “A capital idea! Mattersley, you go right ahead and take the rest of the day—”

“No,” Amelia interrupted, “a day will certainly not afford him much of a rest. I suggest the rest of the week. He can stay upon the lodge. I know Mary has an extra room.”

“Oh.” Her father seemed quite taken aback.

“There is no need for that, sir,” Mattersley said in a voice that betrayed his weariness.

“My daughter is quite right,” Lord Amhurst answered, seeming to see the old man for the first time. “You’ve been out on nearly every hunt with us and working to keep my things in order. I can surely dress myself properly enough for the rest of the week, what?”