Undressed by the Earl (11 page)

The earl was saved from answering when they reached the carriage. He helped Amelia into the landau and greeted Margaret. “Miss Andrews.”

“Lord Castledon, thank you for agreeing to accompany us. It was very kind of you.” Her sister was wearing a cream gown trimmed with lilac ribbon, and she moved over to make room for them. “Amelia told me that you kept your wager, about choosing waistcoats in different colors,” Margaret ventured with an amused smile. “What colors did you select?”

“Your sister chose them,” he admitted. “Thankfully, she refrained from pink or purple.”

“
This
time, I did.” Amelia pasted a smile on her face and sat beside her sister, across from Lord Castledon. She decided it would be best to remain quiet for the rest of the drive, in the hopes that Margaret and the earl would find a topic about which to converse.

They did begin speaking about the weather, but it wasn’t at all interesting. She bit her lip and touched the earl’s foot with her own, hoping he would take the hint to help things along. Her kick resulted in the earl lightly stepping on her foot.

Lord Castledon continued talking with Margaret, and all the while, Amelia’s toes were trapped under his shoe. She glared at him, but the slight smile on his face revealed that he didn’t care at all. He was doing this on purpose.

“Did you need something, Miss Amelia?” the earl inquired.

“Yes. I should like my foot back, if it wouldn’t trouble you.”

“How careless of me,” Lord Castledon remarked, but the look he sent her was quite deliberate.

Her matchmaking efforts weren’t working at all. The earl and Margaret might have been brother and sister to an onlooker, for there was an utter lack of romantic interest. Something had to be done, and Amelia decided he needed intervention. “Lord Castledon, surely you know of a more interesting conversational topic than the weather?”

Margaret exchanged another amused look with Lord Castledon. “Actually, he is correct. To discuss anything else would be most improper.”

Oh, for the love of handkerchiefs. Her sister was
not
helping, and moreover, she didn’t appear to care.

“No one is interested in the weather,” Amelia insisted. “It’s a conversational topic used as a last measure, when you have nothing else to say.”

“Then what do you believe we should discuss?”

Amelia sighed. “Perhaps a good book you’ve read. Or places you’ve visited.”

“I don’t read,” Lord Castledon said. There was a spark of mischief in his blue eyes, and he added, “It’s too taxing upon my brain.”

He might as well have thrown down a gauntlet with the way he was mocking her. She knew very well that he could read. “Then what
do
you do with your time?”

“I stare at the wall.” His voice was monotone, and Amelia wished that she could throw something at him. He was deliberately fighting against her attempts to match him with her sister.

Margaret was biting her lip hard, to keep from laughing. “I do that sometimes, too. Especially when I’m trying to keep from murdering an interfering younger sister.”

It was clear that neither of them had any intention of allowing her to redirect the conversation. Amelia knew when it was time to admit defeat. “You may have a corpse to bury at the end of this outing,” she insisted. “For I may die of boredom.”

“I’ll risk it if you will,” Margaret said to the earl.

Lord Castledon let out a genuine laugh, the first Amelia had ever heard. Deep and resonant, the sound warmed her, inviting her to smile. His blue eyes crinkled around the edges, but his stare struck her like a club.

Amelia’s skin jolted with gooseflesh, as if he’d physically touched her. She was caught up in the man’s eyes, suddenly seeing him in a different way. No, he didn’t have strong features like Viscount Lisford, but the earl was undeniably masculine, with a stubborn jaw and a firm mouth.

Her plans were crumbling all around her, making her question every decision she’d made. Here she was, trying to set Margaret up with the earl…and it was backfiring on her. Her own heart was softening toward Lord Castledon, and that was not good at all.

“We won’t let you die of boredom, Miss Amelia.” The earl turned to the driver and directed him to take them to Vauxhall Gardens.

Amelia nodded and forced a smile to her face that she didn’t feel. Instead, she stared outside, feeling as if her plans were being pulled apart at the seams. She had chosen the man she wanted to marry, and she intended to reform Viscount Lisford until he was the perfect suitor.

Surely the fluttering in her stomach was only nerves. It could not be anything more than that. But when she glanced back at the earl, she found herself imagining what else lay beneath the surface of this man.

He’d locked away his heart and had chosen a frozen existence, one where he wore black and refused to feel happy. If anyone needed saving, it was this man. He needed someone to bring joy back into his life. Perhaps even another child.

No.
Her conscience shut off the thought. It was Margaret’s turn for happiness. Her sister had waited years to find the perfect man, and the earl was exactly what she needed.

Lord Castledon helped them both down from the carriage, and when he took Amelia’s hand, the casual touch of his palm made her want to hold it.

Stop it, stop it, stop it.
If there was a way to throttle her own heart, she needed to do it now. She didn’t even understand what was the matter with her.

Amelia stepped to the side to allow Margaret to walk near the earl, keeping near enough to chaperone, but remaining slightly behind them.

But when Lord Castledon turned, he winked at her. And she felt her heart sliding further down a path she didn’t want to tread upon.

David kept close by the two young women, fully aware that Amelia was bothered by something. Instead of her usual forthright behavior, she was avoiding eye contact with him. He knew precisely why she had arranged this outing—to try and bring him together with Margaret. Though he hadn’t particularly wanted to go, there was no real reason to refuse. He’d promised himself he would make an effort to find the right woman to wed. And that meant leaving his house and forcing himself to go out.

To his surprise, Margaret had the same sense of humor as himself. He immediately recognized that she had no interest in him, but she was delighting in thwarting Amelia’s meddling. It had become a silent game, to see what move she would make next, after he and Margaret parried each attempt.

But now, Amelia appeared embarrassed, and he didn’t know what he’d said or done. He’d winked at her, meaning to show that he didn’t intend any insult, but she’d seemed even more uncomfortable after that. He wasn’t certain why. A man could make a fortune if he could write a pamphlet of instructions about how to interpret a woman’s feelings.

David led the two women around the gardens, past entertainers and jugglers. Margaret was having a fine time, exclaiming her delight when she saw a hot air balloon in the distance. But Amelia remained strangely silent. He moved to her side after Margaret went to look at some rose blossoms. “Are you unwell?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m merely trying to give you and my sister some time together.”

Her gaze remained upon the ground, and David commanded softly, “Look at me, Amelia.”

When she did, her green eyes held wariness. Her golden hair was pulled back beneath her bonnet, and her skin was pale—almost as if he made her nervous, for some reason. Never in his life had he seen Amelia Andrews afraid of anything.

“I know you aren’t feeling well because you aren’t speaking.” Before she could deny it, he continued. “I’ve known you for the past four years, and silent is not a word that describes you. You would talk to wallpaper if you thought it would answer back.”

She glared at him, which was a definite improvement. “Wallpaper might have more interesting things to say than
some
people.”

Now her spark had returned. He decided to bait her a little further. “I am quite good at conversing. You, of all people, should know that.”

“The weather, Lord Castledon? Honestly, you should—”

“Margaret and I were only having a bit of fun. Which was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

She quieted and shrugged. “I suppose.”

To change the subject, he pointed toward the hot air balloon. “Would you ever enjoy riding in one of those?”

“I would sooner throw myself into the Thames off the London Bridge.” Amelia shuddered. “I despise heights. If a woman were meant to fly, God would have placed wings upon her. The last time I checked, I have no wings.”

“I thought you were more adventurous than that.” He offered her his arm, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it, before they followed Margaret through the gardens.

“Sometimes.”

Her mood seemed to have lightened, and when they reached the end of the path, there seemed to be a commotion ahead. Although David would have taken the women away from the disruption, Margaret had already gone to investigate it.

“What is going on?” Amelia asked.

“I don’t know, but your sister should stay back, whatever it is. Wait here and—”

“I am
not
going to stand back out of the way. We will go together,” Amelia insisted. Though it wasn’t what he wanted, he supposed she was safer at his side than alone.

When they reached the small enclosure, David wanted to curse. A group of men had surrounded Lord Lisford, along with another man, who appeared as if he’d been dragged out of Thieves’ Alley. The viscount had discarded his coat and waistcoat, and his nose was bleeding. The two men were boxing, while others were wagering against the fight.

“What are they
doing
?” Amelia was shocked by the sight of the men. “In such a public place? Has the viscount gone mad?”

“I imagine gambling was involved in some way.” David stepped forward and spoke to Margaret, trying to guide her away from the fighting.

“I’m not leaving,” she insisted. Her face had gone white, and her hands were tightly gripped together. It was clear that Lord Lisford was losing this fight, and the other man was taking him apart. The viscount’s head snapped backward as a sound blow caught him in the jaw.

“You shouldn’t be here, Miss Andrews,” David said.

But Amelia stepped beside her sister, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Oh, no. It’s Mr. Sinclair fighting him, isn’t it?”

David had no idea who this Mr. Sinclair was, but the man was a damned good fighter. He allowed the viscount to swing a blow and dodged it at the last second, leaving the man to go sprawling.

But Amelia appeared frozen by the sight of the men.

“Do you want me to get him out of this?” Though David personally believed the viscount deserved whatever beating he got, he knew the man was important to her.

“Someone needs to stop the fight,” she whispered.

He eyed Margaret, who looked ready to step into the ring herself, with her hands clenched at her sides.

Damn it all, he supposed it was now up to him. He removed his coat, handing it to Amelia. “Stay with your sister, and do
not
let her interfere.”

“I’ll sit on her if I have to,” Amelia answered. Then she touched his shoulder. “Be careful, won’t you?”

Amelia didn’t know what had started the fight between Mr. Sinclair and the viscount, but she strongly suspected it was about her sister. The Highlander had never liked Lord Lisford, and he’d made no secret of his feelings for Margaret.

Her stomach sank, for she didn’t like fighting of any kind, much less with the man she wanted to marry. The earl had nearly reached the pair of them, and it was then that Amelia realized Lord Lisford’s nose was broken. Dear God, how badly was he hurt? He clutched his side and staggered to his feet. Although she was supposed to stay with Margaret, Amelia ignored caution and started to run toward the viscount. Before she reached them, the earl caught her hand and pulled her back.

“Don’t. This is no place for you.”

“He’s hurt,” she started to protest. Lord Lisford could hardly stand, and he needed a doctor.

“It was his choice to engage in the match. If you go to him now, you’ll make him appear weak.”