Edward and Amelia Page 4

  It was strange that she was here. Why would her father require her presence? Or had she requested to attend? Odd, really. He turned back to her father.

  “Sit, Norwich.”

  Edward obeyed the clear command; it was best not to ruffle too many feathers at the start of a meeting such as this. A pang of regret that he’d managed to get himself into such a situation again surfaced, but he elbowed it away. There would be plenty of time to complete his transformation into a better man once this was all settled.

  His eyes surveyed the duke. The man’s creased face and dark, graying hair made him every bit as distinguished as he must have appeared in his youth. Edward crossed one leg over the other, leveling a confident stare at the man. What sort of father would he prove to be? Blustering? Angry? Embarrassed? Probably angry. Regardless, it was in Edward’s best interests to continue in a subservient nature. Despite Edward’s capabilities, the duke would likely take a bit more finessing than most.

  “Your Grace, I must begin by apologizing for the unfortunate circumstances in which I became acquainted with your daughter. I am certain I do not need to inform you that nothing—”

  “I am certain I do not need to inform you,” the duke cut in, folding his arms over his chest, “of the damage to my daughter’s reputation you have been complicit in.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging Edward with a look.

  Well, that was not the best start.

  Edward cleared his throat, trying again. “Any damage that might have ensued causes me great distress, Your Grace, but I must disagree on my involvement. I believe it would be better described as simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He smiled humbly, lifting his hands, palms up, in a placating gesture.

  Lady Amelia emitted a strangled exclamation. He ignored her, though only barely.

  The duke’s expression did not change, though he stood, pressing his palms to the top of his desk. “I’ve no need of your flowery speeches, Norwich. I know your reputation, and I will not have my own family’s sullied by this event. You will do right by my daughter, or you will answer to me.”

  The strangled noise sounded again at his right.

  Edward met the duke’s gaze squarely, resisting the urge to pull at his cravat. This was not at all how he had anticipated their meeting going. Yes, he’d expected the duke to be upset, but he’d also expected the man to see reason.

  “Your Grace, I am unsure what you could be implying.”

  The duke’s eyes bore into his own, and Edward’s began to water with his attempt to maintain the gaze.

  “I am implying nothing, Lord Norwich. I am explicitly informing you that you will marry my daughter or I will personally drag you from the country by your neck.”

  “Papa.” Lady Amelia entered the conversation tentatively, a slight note of desperation not entirely hidden from her tone.

  The duke did not remove his commanding gaze from Edward despite stilling to listen to his daughter. It was enough for her, apparently, for her careful voice sounded again.

  “I promise you nothing untoward occurred.” She paused, and Edward could hear her shifting in her chair. “You, after all, mentioned Lord Norwich’s reputation, and I could not agree more. Why, then, should we wish our family to be tainted by aligning with such gossip? Would it not be better to forget the whole thing occurred at all?”

  Edward tamped down the defensive retort rising in his throat. After all, he wished for the same thing as Lady Amelia. But her argument against him stung. Why though? He was well aware of how all of London viewed him.

  His Grace finally turned to gaze upon his daughter. The lines about his mouth lessened slightly, and his brow smoothed. “Amelia, I do not believe you understand the gravity of what your reputation faces.”

  “I do. Most definitely. But perhaps I can return home this Season and wait for the gossip to settle. I can try again next Season. I do not mind. Anything but marria—”

  The duke’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head, cutting her off. “No, I am resolved. You and I may speak more of this later.” The words were spoken without the barely veiled rage that had been aimed at Edward, but the command was clear all the same.

  Edward chanced a glance her way. Lady Amelia bit her lip and lowered her head, twisting her hands in her lap.

  The subservient pose did not fit what he knew of her, though his knowledge was, admittedly, small. An entirely unexpected urge to stand up for the woman coursed through him. It was followed closely by an equally strong and unanticipated desire to prove her view of him incorrect. He straightened in his chair.

  “Well? What is it, Norwich? Honorable matrimony—a match far better than you could have wished for, I might add. Or exile? Or I suppose I have not taken a duel of honor off the table.”

  Edward’s eyes strayed back to Lady Amelia, though she still looked to her lap. The desire to protect her and defend himself surged again. It even offset his rising need to flee the responsibility placed before him. But that was ridiculous. He had never given in to one of these pleasant chats before—why begin now?

  “No,” he said, his chin lifting slightly, the words coming out with a mixture of incredulity and annoyance. Edward was quite good with a pistol—let the duke call for a duel.

  The man’s expression did not change. No surprise or anger surfaced, only a slight shake of his head. “I do not think you understand your position here, Lord Norwich. I will not allow my daughter to be slighted, and I imagine, were your mother alive, she would not allow such a thing either.”

  His mother? Why in the blazes was the duke bringing up his mother, of all people?

  And, blast it all, why did the mention of her suddenly have him wanting to sit up straighter and act a little better?

  Edward took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the challenging glare of His Grace. Edward had not done anything wrong. The simple mention of his mother should not make him wish to do right by the woman waiting silently at the side of the room, just out of his peripheral vision. Mother would not want him to take a wife by default anyway—no matter that he had intended to marry this Season.

  He had, though, planned that very thing. Was he not being handed exactly what he wished, before the Season had hardly begun? The thought of accomplishing his goal—and with a woman so intriguing as Lady Amelia—held a certain appeal.

  “I do not have all day, Norwich. You are aware the woman beside you could be ruined. What sort of man are you?”

  Annoyance flared in Edward, but one last, somewhat unintentional, look at Lady Amelia decided it.

  With a rather shaky version of the charming smile he used so well, he spoke. “Very well. I would be fortunate to marry Lady Amelia. If she will have me.”

  ***

  Amelia glanced sharply up at Lord Norwich, startled by the intensity she saw in his dark eyes.

  What was he doing? She could not fight her father’s command, but she was astounded he gave in that quickly. She’d hoped he would fight harder for their freedom. But it would seem he was to be found lacking in all aspects.

  She tore her gaze from his and looked at Papa, who seemed marginally stunned himself. But then he nodded once, ever the commanding duke.

  “She will. You may go, Amelia, I will speak with you after I finalize the arrangements with Lord Norwich.”

  Amelia bit the insides of her cheeks in frustration. She had no say in the matter of her engagement—how ridiculous it would be to assume she may wish to have some part in choosing her husband. Wholly unnatural, to be sure.

  “Your Grace, might I beg a moment or two of your daughter’s time before she departs?”

  Amelia had already risen to her feet but looked to Lord Norwich as he spoke. I do not even know his given name. The thought was unexpected. She was to marry this man she had only ever had two conversations with.

  No, not even conversations—arguments. And she was to be his wife.

  Her vision swam, and she grasped the back of the chair she had just vacated.

  Papa looked between the two of them. “Two minutes. That is all.” Then he crossed to the window.

  Amelia met Lord Norwich’s eyes as he walked toward her, steeling herself for whatever it was he might have to say to her. Only he said nothing; he simply stared down at her. It made her feel small. She was so tired of being made to feel insignificant.

  “Well? You wished to speak with me.” Ought she to be more cordial to the man she was to marry? After what Henrietta had told her of him this morning, no. Why be cordial to a man who had left a trail of ruined women behind him?

  He nodded. “To ask you if you wish to marry me. It is not so flowery a proposal as women desire, but it seems necessary even in our strange situation.”

  She stood ramrod straight, shocked by his words. “I do not know you, Lord Norwich.”

  “Well, that will change soon enough, will it not?” He said the words softly, and somehow, Amelia could not look away from his dark eyes. Something twisted in her stomach, but then she forced her feet back and her gaze away. It did not matter how quietly the man spoke; she already knew his true nature. And she knew by agreeing to this marriage she was agreeing to go from one controlling life to another. From her family to Lord Norwich.

  “Lady Amelia—”

  “That will be enough,” Papa called not soon enough. “You may go, Amelia.”

  With no desire to stay, she slipped from the room. Apart from the fear and frustration swirling dangerously in her stomach, she felt no different. Yet everything was changed. She was engaged. Perhaps she should celebrate? Would climbing out her window in the dead of night suffice? Because to be married to a man like Lord Norwich certainly had her wishing she could take up a position as a governess instead. Or perhaps a milkmaid. A shop girl? The options were endless.

  Some might not think her fate so bad. Married to an earl before her first Season had really begun. Married even before her two elder sisters.

  Her sisters. Amelia’s blood ran cold. Did they know? Perhaps Edith was consulted. It was even likely Amelia had her to thank for this situation. And what would Henrietta say if she knew Amelia was now engaged after their conversation that morning? Just her knowledge from the brief encounters with Lord Norwich was enough to turn her opinion of him decidedly sour. But what Henrietta had said of him made her stomach roll—she would be intimately connected with him. Papa would never allow the likes of him to court you. To think, just that morning, those words had provided a small amount of comfort. But now they seemed to mock her.

  Papa wouldn’t allow such a man to court her? No, of course not. But marry was another matter entirely!

  Amelia looked down the hall to where she knew the servants’ staircase was concealed around a corner. If she had not stepped on that stair the day before, her sisters would not have reprimanded her and forced her out of doors with their stifling “concerns.” Then she would never have met Lord Norwich. It was, clearly, the staircase’s fault. And those horrid overly large half boots her sisters had insisted she buy. And Lord Norwich’s fault.

  Mostly Lord Norwich’s.

  But . . . Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the side of the staircase as if it could whisk her away from her current predicament. The worst part of it all was that it was not only Lord Norwich’s fault. Or the staircase or the boots. The blame was also hers for believing she could act in London as she had in the country. She’d believed her father would ignore her as greatly here as he had in their ancestral home. When she pulled back the curtains on the truth of the situation, it was as clear as the air in London was smoggy.

  Amelia had acted stupidly, and her entire life would now suffer for it.

  “Where has Mellie gone off to? I wish to speak with her about last night—entirely unacceptable behavior to skip a ball, headache or not.” Edith’s voice floated down the corridor, and Amelia startled out of her thoughts.

  Hastening up the stairs, with a jump that was not ladylike in the least, Amelia hurried away from her sisters. She had no wish to be bullied into divulging the true reason behind her missing the ball nor the ensuing events of this morning.

  But the sound of male voices joining the female ones stopped her on the top step just out of sight. Edith’s high, honeyed voice floated up to her.

  “Why, Lord Norwich, how do you do?”

  “Lady Edith, Lady Henrietta, I am quite well. You both look magnificent this morning—off to call on a few lucky gentlemen?”

  Amelia pursed her lips at the overdone compliment. Henrietta’s laugh echoed through the cavernous entry hall.

  “You are too kind, Lord Norwich. Perhaps we ought to pay you a call,” Edith simpered.

  Amelia rolled her eyes now, leaning against the wall of the upstairs corridor. A maid passed by, giving her a lingering glance but saying nothing.

  “That would be most welcome, indeed. But for now, I must bid you good day. Ladies. Your Grace.” Amelia could not see him, but she could imagine his foppish bow. Likely similar to the one he had given her in Papa’s study.

  And she was marrying that horrid man. She thought of her future and could only envision an empty lifetime of hearing her husband flatter other women . . . and likely far worse. Her stomach dropped. Marriage to a man also meant telling him about . . . him seeing . . . her fingers grazed the unnaturally high neckline of her dress. For a moment, her anger at him faded away, leaving only a horrible stinging behind her eyes and numbness in her limbs.

  What of love? What of marriage to a man who respected her and supported her in ways she had not had for years? What of finding a man who could see past her scars? She pushed from the wall, brushing a few loose curls back from her face.

  “What was he doing here, Papa?” Edith’s low voice, curious and faintly snide, followed the sound of the front door closing.

  “That is none of your concern, Edith. Though I am certain you will learn the whole of it from Amelia.” Papa’s steps retreated down the hall as the breath seized in Amelia’s chest.

  Traitor.

  With light but fast steps, Amelia fled to her chambers in hopes of outrunning the imminent interrogation.

  There was a blessed moment of silence as her sisters must have puzzled out their father’s words.

  And then, “Mellie!”

  She turned the lock, safely ensconced in her room just seconds before footsteps sounded in the hall outside. Regally, with a tilted chin and an air of confidence she did not feel, she crossed to her bed. Her back hit the comfortable padding, and she closed her eyes, studiously ignoring the banging on her door.

  Chapter Five

  Twenty-one hours, thirty-four minutes, and seventeen seconds—she was not actually aware of the precise number of seconds, but this was a good estimation—after the disastrous meeting with Lord Norwich, Amelia was summoned to her father’s study.

  Her knock on his study door was crisp and short. “Papa?”

  “Enter.”

  She set both her jaw and her shoulders before opening the door. She had to be completely in control if she wished to convince her father to call off the ridiculous engagement.

  He was standing behind the desk when she stepped inside. Her heart hammered as she rehearsed her arguments. She had many. And he would certainly see reason.

  “Sit, Amelia.” His presence was commanding, but there was an air of awkwardness about the two of them. There always seemed to be whenever they were alone, which wasn’t really surprising seeing as they hardly knew each other. Certainly, they were familiar—the man’s face before her was as familiar as her own in some ways. The steely blue eyes, graying hair, and firm jaw. But at the same time, he was entirely unfamiliar. Since her mother’s death seven years before, they hadn’t had a single personal conversation.

  She sat in the seat he indicated and opened her mouth to begin her convincing.

  He cut her off with a raised hand as he lowered himself to his chair. “I am certain you wish to dissuade me of my decision regarding your marriage to Lord Norwich, but I will not be moved. You will marry Lord Norwich at the end of the week.”

  So soon? Her mouth nearly fell open, but she snapped her teeth together to prevent that unladylike gesture. Frantically, she searched for a thought.

  “Papa, please, you must see the folly in this.”

  Her desperation was not as masked as she would have liked, and he closed his eyes in seeming frustration.

  “Surely you do not think I would take the marriage of one of my children lightly, Amelia. I have thought this through. It is the best course of action for you and our family, and I think it is a marriage your mother would have been pleased with. You will marry Lord Norwich.”

  “But his reputation—”

  “Will be more of an issue for you if you do not marry him than if you do.” His tone was clipped, resolute.

  “It was not my fault, Papa. I did nothing wrong. Please, do not make me marry him.” She’d dropped all pretense of staid confidence and could have been on her knees for all she cared.

  His eyes softened marginally, but his words were blunt. “That is not true, Amelia. You left our home with no maid. That alone is enough to cause a scandal.” He sighed heavily. “In all truth, I am unhappy, Amelia. I am unhappy you acted so unbefitting of your station, and I am unhappy to now find it necessary for you to marry the man. But you yourself created this situation, and you will rectify it by marrying Lord Norwich. There is no choice in the matter. I only called you in here to tell you the marriage will take place on Saturday, and a dressmaker will be here this afternoon so you need not leave the house before your wedding. Your mother would have wanted you to have a proper wedding dress.”

  The fight fled from Amelia as quickly as a complicated trill on the pianoforte might leave her fingertips. He was right. As much as she wished it otherwise, she had made poor choices leading to her current situation. She nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. “Yes, Papa. Was there anything else?”