39. This Man

THIS MAN

M r. Beckworth had been alone in the private dining room with Amelia's mother and Lord Winterhope for exactly thirty-two minutes now. Amelia knew this because she and Clementine had sat waiting in the small parlor right outside, where a clock ticked loudly on the mantel.

Occasionally, raised voices could be heard from behind the closed doors, but they hadn't heard anything for a while now.

"We should have just gone on to Smuggler's Manor," Amelia said at last. She met Clem's gaze from across the room. "She'll never give her blessing."

Margie had found her way in from outside and was curled up on the rug in front of the fire. Her fluffy tail tapped the floor contentedly, lazily moving up and then down. It was somewhat hypnotic.

"She might." Clem tilted her head. "Mr. Beckworth isn't a part of Society, but Benjamin says he's respected throughout London. And richer than Croesus."

Amelia nodded. She hadn't known the extent of his fortune, but she'd suspected it was significant. But unlike the aristocracy, who inherited generations' worth of wealth and property by simple right of birth, no one had handed it to him. He'd worked for everything he had.

He'd fought for everything he had.

She hated that he thought it was necessary to fight for her.

Before he'd arranged this meeting, Amelia had tugged on his hand, stopping just outside the entrance to the pub on the way to find Winterhope. "This isn't necessary. I know how you feel about… them."

He'd turned to face her fully then and cupped her cheek in his palm, holding her gaze intentionally. "You don't need to be estranged from your family," he'd said. "Unless you want to be."

Twelve hours ago, it wouldn't have even been a question. Amelia wouldn't have risked falling into her mother's power. But… She was free now. And she wasn't alone.

With Mr. Beckworth at her side, she had nothing to fear.

"My mother is…" Manipulative. Stubborn. Elitist . But she was also Amelia's only mother—her flesh and blood. And if her father never came back… "She's used to getting her way, and she's not above using…whatever means she deems necessary to get it."

"I can handle her." He'd smirked. And that had been the end of it.

Thirty-five minutes had passed now. There hadn't been any shouting for twelve entire minutes.

When the doors finally burst open, both Amelia and Clementine burst out of their seats.

Margie ran to hide under Clementine's vacated chair.

Amelia's stare went automatically to Mr. Beckworth's. That thread had wrapped around them again, in an invisible, yet comforting way. He winked, and his mouth twitched. He looked very satisfied.

Amelia pinched back an indulgent grin.

Only because she was curious, Amelia dragged her gaze to her mother.

Oh, so stiff and proud, Lady Foxbourne sniffed. "It seems," she said, "I am to have a son-in-law." And because she would never change, no one was surprised when she added, "Not my first choice, mind you. I hope Lord Foxbourne isn't too displeased."

Lord Winterhope's smile was… optimistic. "Seeing as Lady Amelia's absence from the Season has already been accounted for, there shouldn't be any questions," he said.

"Lord Winterhope will arrange for a special license," Amelia's mother added.

Standing across the room from Mr. Beckworth, Amelia locked gazes with him while the others discussed the need to delay their announcement in The London Gazette , and how the wedding, which would be held at a chapel near Smuggler's Manor, would have to be just the two of them. Amelia imagined Mr. Fitz and Fanny as witnesses. But she kept that to herself.

Despite this positive turn Amelia's life had taken, the danger which had led to her initial ‘kidnapping' had not yet passed. Lord Winterhope and Clementine would still need to deliver Lady Foxbourne to a safe and secret destination, and Amelia would remain under Mr. Beckworth's protection. If people knew they were married, Crossings and his men would know exactly where to find her, and so their match would have to remain a secret. For now, at least.

There was no talk of being ruined.

There was no talk of her position in Society.

Amelia found all these plans agreeable enough until her mother lifted her chin and declared, "Miss Henrietta will accompany you to Mr. Beckworth's estate. For propriety's sake."

The idea of her old lady's maid lurking about Smuggler's Manor amongst Mr. Beckworth's employees, disparaging this and that at every opportunity she could find and reporting everything she saw to Amelia's mother, brought her up short. "That won't be necessary," she asserted, suppressing a shudder.

"Don't be silly, Amelia," her mother scoffed. "You may be marrying a commoner, but you'll still require a proper maid in that… hovel of his. Surely?—"

"My wife can make her own decisions," Mr. Beckworth cut her off just as she was beginning to work herself up. And then, realizing what he'd said, raised his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. "My fiancée, that is."

This . This was why Amelia would always be free with him.

Someday, perhaps, women would be able to walk their own path, if they wished, that was. She didn't know how long that would take, or how they would ever get there. What she did know was that she was one of the lucky ones.

Because she had Mr. Beckworth beside her.

And with him, she knew, she would always be free.