Undressed by the Earl (14 page)

There was another way, however. If he could convince Amelia that he was the man of her dreams, she was adventurous enough to consider eloping. He fixated upon the possibility, realizing that this was an excellent idea. Amelia had a romantic heart, and if he gave her everything she desired, he would succeed in marrying her and the dowry would follow.

It would work. He was certain of it. She would come to forgive him, in time.

“I know how you feel,” came a female voice from the shadows. Charles turned and saw a plain-faced young woman he didn’t recognize. She was wearing a dark rose gown, and when she stepped into the light, he saw that she had dark hair and brown eyes. “I know what it is to want something badly and have it slip from your grasp.”

He didn’t know what the woman was speaking of, but she sent him a wry smile. “You should try again.”

“I intend to.” He knew he ought to leave, but something about this woman intrigued him. “Have we met before?”

She shook her head. “I’m not even supposed to be here. But I, too, wished to speak with Amelia Andrews.” Answering his unspoken question, she confessed, “I am Lady Sarah Carlisle.”

He didn’t know the young woman, but he nodded in greeting.

“If you want to marry her, then don’t give up,” she assured him. “Do whatever you must to win her over.” Her face turned pale, and she clutched at the edges of her wrap. “Even if you must resort to desperate means.”

He frowned and ventured, “You sound as if you’re speaking of yourself. What is it that you wanted so badly?”

“My freedom,” she whispered. Her eyes turned distant and she stared back at the ballroom. “I would wed any gentleman inside that room, if it meant escaping my circumstances.” She sent him a faint smile. “Even you.”

Before he could say a word, she reassured him, “Oh, don’t worry. That isn’t why I came to speak with you. I simply wanted to encourage you.”

He studied her, and though no one could call her pretty, there was a strength in this woman, as if she’d endured a great deal. “I wish you luck in finding your freedom, Lady Sarah.”

She nodded, but the bleakness in her expression suggested that she had little hope of achieving it.

“I shall,” she admitted. “And like you, I will set my reservations aside and do what must be done.”

David sat in his wife’s wingback chair, leaning back. In his hands, he held Christine’s latest letter. She had informed him that he was her favorite father (which made him wonder what she wanted, since he was her
only
father). Then she had gone on to list the attributes of her governess, Miss Grant, whom she believed would make an excellent new mother.

While Miss Grant was a pleasant young woman, David knew that the governess had no knowledge of London society, nor could she teach Christine what she needed to know. When his daughter came of age, he intended for her to have a Season where she would be introduced to titled young men of good families. Christine needed someone who would instruct her in all the rules and good manners.

Someone like Lavinia Harrow or Margaret Andrews. Someone who was sensible and well-bred.

But God help him, all he could think of was Amelia.

“She’s not right for me, Katherine,” he told the ghost of his wife. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost imagine her standing by the hearth. “She’s far too young and impetuous.”

And yet when Amelia had wept in his arms, he’d wanted to tighten his hold and comfort her. He’d wanted to tilt up her innocent lips and teach her what it was to kiss a man. She’d made him
feel
again, and that wasn’t something he wanted.

“She should marry one of the gentlemen with a fortune who can give her children.”

You can give her children, too
, he imagined Katherine saying.

“I won’t.” He wasn’t going to even consider it. Not because there was anything wrong with Amelia Andrews. But he didn’t want a woman who would expect him to be a true husband.

The idea of fathering a child upon a woman like Amelia crept into his mind, tormenting him with images of her young body yielding beneath his. She was a sensual creature, and he suspected that, if properly instructed, she would enjoy sharing his bed. And he would enjoy
her
, which was a betrayal of Katherine’s memory.

He set aside Christine’s letter, wishing for a moment that he’d been buried with his wife. The wasting sickness had drawn her life away, and when he’d lost her, the physician had informed David that she’d been with child. A son, as it turned out.

Even after all these years, he wondered why she hadn’t told him until the very end. Perhaps it was because the unexpected pregnancy had shortened what little time Katherine had left. But there had been peace upon her face when she’d died. The doctor showed him the son she’d miscarried in the last moments, and the child had been barely larger than David’s palm.

The aching inside his heart hadn’t diminished, not at all. No words or any amount of time would heal the wounds still haunting him.

He reached for another folded paper, the list Amelia had drawn up for him. He’d already crossed out several names. Miss Harrow was still a strong candidate, but she seemed to lack confidence in herself. And David knew a certain eleven-year-old girl who would take advantage of that. More and more, he was beginning to wonder if it was a good idea to marry anyone at all.

You must, for our daughter’s sake
, he could imagine Katherine saying.

He stared at all the names and realized that Margaret Andrews was the one person on the list who
did
know all the rules of society. She was a walking book of etiquette. And although there was not a single spark of romantic interest, perhaps she was beyond those needs now. He ought to speak frankly with her and ask what she wanted. If she desired a marriage based upon friendship, and if she was willing to become a mother and a role model for Christine, then they could begin arranging a betrothal. Marrying a woman like Margaret would be no betrayal at all to Katherine, for he felt nothing toward her.

But she’s in love with someone else
, Katherine’s ghost warned. He’d witnessed that for himself, when she’d slipped away to meet with Cain Sinclair. Would Margaret betray him, if they were to wed?

He wasn’t certain. However, Miss Andrews had few options, since she’d had several seasons and only one marriage offer. If she’d intended to wed the Highlander, undoubtedly, she’d have done so earlier.

A grim satisfaction took root at the memory of how Cain Sinclair had bloodied the viscount’s nose. Lisford had deserved it, and David wished he could have been the one to land a punch after the man had tried to kiss Amelia in the garden.

The memory of her tears bothered him deeply. She’d let her innocence lead her astray and had paid the price.

You can’t have her
, his conscience warned. Amelia was too young and was not at all what he needed in a wife. Better to pursue Margaret and see where that led. The decision made, David stared at the hearth. The vision of Katherine came back to him, but she wasn’t smiling.

This isn’t what I want for you
, her ghost seemed to say.
I want you to live again.

He silenced the imagined voices, for he knew now what he needed to do. He would make a respectable marriage if Margaret would have him, and give his daughter the mother she needed.

And he refused to think of Amelia again. Better to let her go, so she could love a man worthy of her.

“I’m drowning in flowers.” Amelia read the latest apology card from Viscount Lisford while her father, Henry Andrews, looked on with amusement.

“He does seem to be filled with remorse.”

“And well he should be,” Amelia said, as the butler, Mr. Culpepper, set the newest vase of yellow roses on a nearby table. “I’m not sorry I hit him.”

“I am glad that you’ve come to your senses,” Henry said. “He may be…theatrical with grand gestures, but the man is far too impulsive and irresponsible.”

“I think he sees me as a challenge.” Despite her earlier infatuation, she was beginning to realize that the viscount had a very strong sense of self-worth. “He wants me to meet with him again, to beg my forgiveness, so he says.”

“But you won’t.” Her father sent her a warning look.

“I don’t know.” Amelia stood before him, considering it. “If I continue to refuse him, he may keep sending flowers.”

“Tell him to send confections or cakes instead,” her father suggested. “At least we could eat those.”

She smiled, but inwardly worried that the viscount would not cease his efforts. Thus far, she’d received eight different posies of flowers. She was beginning to believe in his apology, despite his ostentatious efforts. Perhaps he was unaccustomed to a woman not wanting to be kissed.

“You cannot meet with him,” her father insisted.

“I don’t want to,” she agreed, “but what if he continues to pursue me? He seems like a gentleman who finds it a greater challenge when a woman says no.”

“Is there another gentleman who has caught your eye?” her father ventured. “Someone who could put an end to the viscount’s courtship?” Henry studied her, as if trying to read her thoughts.

Amelia kept her face neutral, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Lord Castledon. If she hadn’t already struck Viscount Lisford, she believed the earl would have defended her.

When she’d been in his arms, she’d felt safe. No…more than that. She’d wanted to embrace him, offering her own comfort. He was a man of inner strength, and never once had he surrendered the tight control he held over his grief.

“What are your thoughts regarding Lord Castledon?” her father asked.

Her cheeks went crimson, as if he’d read her mind. “H-he’s a kind man.”

“Good. I’ve met him a time or two. He’s asked to pay a call upon Margaret.”

He what? She blinked a moment, trying to make sense of it. Last night she’d been in his arms while she’d cried…but he hadn’t embraced her. He’d merely let her cry, letting her take comfort.

She closed her eyes, feeling frustrated with herself. Clearly, she’d misread him. If he intended to call upon Margaret, he’d made his choice—and it wasn’t her. Somehow, he must have changed his mind about courting her sister. Something had made him reconsider, though she couldn’t say what it was.

This was what you wanted
, her conscience chided.
To bring them together.

And yet, it was awful to think that she was once again falling in love with a man meant for her sister.

“I wish them well together,” she said, trying to feign a brightness she didn’t feel.

Her father nodded, satisfied with her answer. He straightened, as if something else was troubling him. “Amelia, I wondered if I might recruit your help in another endeavor.”

She waited, curious about what it could be.

“Your mother and I have…grown apart during the years I was at war. And even though I’ve been home these past few years, things are different between us. I don’t know—” His face reddened, and he stiffened his posture. “That is, I’ve been trying to—”

Awareness dawned upon her. “You want to court Mother again.”

“Not with flowers or confections,” he said hastily.

“No,” Amelia agreed. “But you could try being thoughtful. Do nice things for her that she doesn’t expect.”

Her father thought a moment. “The town house does need a few repairs to the windows. Her room has a draft.”

Amelia stared at him in disbelief. “Papa, do you honestly believe that fixing her window is romantic?”

He let out a sigh. “I have no idea what she would consider romantic.”

“Anything that involves repairing the house is
not
romantic,” she assured him. “Why don’t you take her out driving? Or perhaps boating. You could take a short trip together somewhere.”

“She might not go,” he confessed.

In that moment, he appeared utterly lost. Never before had Amelia seen him this way. Her father had always been a soldier, stern and foreboding in his demeanor. To be frank, she knew her mother, Beatrice, had wedded him because she’d had no other offers. There had never been much in the way of love between them. They took care of each other, but her mother had struggled during the war years.