10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

June 5th, 1815

Tonight, Sabrina and I attended a dinner party at the Duke of Rochester's townhouse. My stomach twisted so violently during the first course, I thought I might cast up my accounts in front of the entire group. The flirting between Sabrina and the duke makes me ill. How can she pay him so much attention while engaged to Lord Emerson?

I received my answer during our carriage ride home. Sabrina confessed the duke has proposed, and she accepted. Accepted a proposal when she is already engaged!

I could not contain my surprise nor my disgust. Sabrina merely guffawed at my reaction and said this was the way of things. Ladies must do all they can to catch a husband of the highest rank.

But what of Lord Emerson? I asked, to which her response came with little sympathy. "What of him? Our engagement was never announced, and no one will question my engagement to the duke."

She then pulled a letter from her reticule and handed it to me. I am to deliver it to Lord Emerson in the morning. I can only imagine what it contains. Sabrina's affection may have never been genuine, but the earl's is. Why could she not deliver it herself or speak to him privately on the matter?

But I know this answer as well. I suspect Sabrina has discovered my own affection for the man. Perhaps in the way I look at him or the pleading I have done on his behalf whenever she meets with the duke in secret. Regardless, she takes pleasure in my torment. Forcing me to deliver this letter—this heartbreaking missive—will deal me damage as well.

Part of me wishes to toss it into the fire, but I cannot defy Sabrina. Not without putting Grace's future at risk. My only consolation rests in the fact that Lord Emerson will be free of her. That his future will be saved, even if he must endure pain to get there.

Even if I must endure watching his agony.

Amelia

I stared down at my diary, bound in deep brown leather, so worn the edges were beginning to fray. When Papa had first gifted it to me, it had been his intention that I record my experiences during my first Season, that one day I might look back on them and perhaps share them with my own daughters when their time came to step into society.

It had been a beautiful gift, and one I grew to appreciate more fully as the Season tattered on and Papa's health declined. Filling the diary with my thoughts had been my one source of comfort after Sabrina revealed her true nature, caging me with threats and expectations. I had no one to confide in; no one, save for the blank pages resting in my lap.

And I had continued to fill them even after the Season ended, even after Papa's death and our return to Longwood Manor. The diary had become a dear friend, one who had been through my worst moments with me. It was a risk keeping it so near where the information within could be discovered and, perhaps, used against me. But I had not been able to leave it behind, not when I knew these four weeks would be some of the most trying of my life.

A knock sounded at my door, and I quickly shoved the diary beneath my pillow. Not a moment too soon, for Sabrina threw open the door and entered before I could utter a word of permission. She marched across the room and sat down next to me on the bed, a determined look in her eyes that never meant anything good.

"Mrs. Davis has asked her son and James to join us for a walk today. A picnic outing." She shifted on the bed to face me better. "It will be the first time James has participated in anything, and you are going to help me make the most of it."

My stomach may as well have been made of jungle vines for the tangled mess it felt. "What do you intend to do?"

"Do not sound so distraught, Amelia. One would think you expect me to impale the man with a stick or something."

I hoped she had not given the idea too much thought. When Sabrina finally accepted that Lord Emerson had no desire to court her, every stick on the property might well become a threat to the man.

"Today," Sabrina continued, "I will not pay James one bit of attention. All my focus will be on Mr. Davis."

I opened my mouth…and then closed it again. Had Sabrina given up on the earl? It seemed far too much to hope for, and I refused to put the thought out in the open. The moment I did, she would shred it to bits.

"What I need from you is to keep James busy." She paused, her brows furrowing. "Well, not busy . I want you to ensure he is following directly behind Mr. Davis and me. He needs a clear view if I am to make him jealous."

Shredded. Drowned. Why did I bother to hope even a little? Sabrina wanted Lord Emerson, and the duchess never gave up on something she wanted. No matter how obvious Lord Emerson was in his refusal, she would never stop.

"Jealous," I repeated. "Do you think…it is just that he seems very content to avoid you. Set upon it at all cost." As though his life depended on it. Maybe it did given Sabrina's determination.

Sabrina scoffed, shaking her head full of dark curls. "The man does not know what he wants or what is best for him. He merely needs to see my attention shifting elsewhere to realize it." She sounded certain, but I didn't miss the hesitation in her expression, as though she hadn't fully convinced herself.

"I think Lord Emerson is perfectly capable of knowing what he wants. I do not think—"

"Enough, Amelia!" Sabrina rose from my bed, her fierce scowl pinning me in place. "There is a reason you have not married. You are too soft, too frightened to take risks. It is why you so easily fit into your role. Born to serve and obey, just like the rest of your lineage. You will never find a husband playing the delicate wallflower, and I needn't remind you how the information I possess could damage the little chance you have at matrimony even further."

My gaze fell to where my hands rested in my lap. I could not argue against her points, as they were all valid to a degree. I did prefer the shadows—to be a wallflower when out among the ton . Fear kept me there, terrified as I was that bringing any sort of attention to myself would also bring things to light. It did not help that the one person who claimed to be my friend was also using her knowledge to threaten me with what I feared most.

"Now, listen carefully to my instructions because I will not repeat them." Sabrina's tone had evened into that of a proper lady, any glimpse of her ire gone. She had a handle on her emotions that I did not, able to hide them when she chose, as easily as dousing a candle flame.

"You will allow James to escort you," said Sabrina, "and then ensure that he is following directly behind myself and Mr. Davis. When he sees me flirting with our host, I am certain it will remind him of our engagement."

"The one you pretended never happened?" The words came out sardonic, and my hands shot to cover my mouth. Speaking so boldly was a mistake.

Sabrina narrowed her eyes and stepped toward me. "That is of no consequence to you, Amelia. You will do as I say. Do not push me to do something that you will regret."

I nodded, for what more could I do? "I will make sure that Lord Emerson has a full view of your efforts."

"Good." She stepped away and drew in a deep breath, a pleasant smile transforming her expression. "What a lovely day it is for a picnic."

James

Gregory swatted his mother's hand away from his cravat, and I struggled to restrain a laugh. She had attempted to straighten it multiple times since we arrived in the foyer, insisting he ought to look decent for our picnic outing. Gregory merely continued to evade her, scowling more deeply each time.

"It is a picnic, Mother. I am not looking to impress anyone."

Mrs. Davis folded her arms. "A good host is always looking to impress. This house party was your idea. The least you can do is present yourself with dignity."

"It certainly was not my idea," Gregory muttered, quietly enough his mother did not hear.

I might have come to Gregory's rescue were it not for the dark circles under his blotchy red eyes. He had not slept well last night, or perhaps not at all. Despite my request for him to cease gambling, I doubted he had truly given it up. Cheltenham was not so far or without gaming rooms to believe Gregory could not have succumbed to his addiction. It seemed I would have to keep an eye on him, prod his sensibilities with guilt, for his mother's sake. His broken promise might have convinced me to leave were it not for Mrs. Davis.

And for my growing determination to understand Miss Scott.

I had stayed within the confines of my bedchamber for a greater portion of my time here, but now that I had settled things with Sabrina, I could better watch Gregory and steer him away from town. Perhaps my participation in the activities at Fallborn would assist in keeping him out of trouble, though it would take more than my presence for a month and instead some resolve on his part to truly break his habits.

"They are late," said Gregory, peering down at his pocket watch.

"We do not insult our guests, Gregory," Mrs. Davis chided.

"They are not here to receive the insult. Mr. Apsley and Miss Grace have come down on time and are waiting outside. I am merely pointing out the fact that the other two are late."

Mrs. Davis glared at him. "I am certain Her Grace and Miss Scott will be down momentarily. And I will remind you that you are rarely punctual." She glanced at me. "Either of you."

That would change now that Sabrina understood there would never be anything between us. I would not have to avoid coming to the drawing room early before dinner. I could mingle with the others without dealing with her constant flirtations.

"Are you certain none of your other guests will arrive?" Mrs. Davis asked. The question had been a frequent topic of discussion, even after over a week of Gregory assuring her no one else was coming. It would be highly unexpected to receive more guests when there hadn't been more invited.

But Mrs. Davis was not aware of the reason Gregory had thrown the party or his lack of invitations.

"No, Mother. I'm afraid this is all the company we are to expect." Gregory sighed when Mrs. Davis's bottom lip jutted in a pout. "Next time, I will allow you to assist me with invitations. Will that do?"

"That will do nicely. But do you know what would be better? If your wife lets me assist with the invitations."

Gregory groaned.

She patted his arm and appeared ready to say more, but her attention was drawn to the top of the staircase.

My gaze followed, and my heart tripped into an unsteady rhythm at the sight of Miss Scott descending the stairs. She wore a soft shade of pink today, and her hair was only partially visible beneath a wide-brimmed bonnet decorated with ribbon and lace.

Sabrina descended ahead of her, and while I was aware of her figure and graceful glide to the foyer, it was Miss Scott who held my focus. Sabrina was handsome. I could not deny that, even with the amount of resentment I harbored for her, but Miss Scott carried something more appealing than surface-level beauty.

Was it her secrets that kept me entirely fixated? My determination to understand her?

I was beginning to think there was more to my pointed attention than that, just as Gregory had accused. I wished to explore the notion, the idea that Miss Scott could be more than a puzzle waiting to be solved, and yet, caution could not be tossed aside. Not if I wished to protect myself.

Secrets or not, Miss Scott was close to Sabrina. I was not fully convinced I could trust her. That would require time and strategy. I needed to converse with her without Sabrina's presence hindering my efforts or causing the woman to withdraw into the quiet, submissive creature she became around the duchess.

Gregory and I bowed to the ladies once they had reached the bottom, and they each returned a curtsy in kind.

"Today is sunny and warm," said Mrs. Davis. "We could not have chosen a better afternoon for a picnic."

"You are the perfect hostess." Sabrina smiled at her, then to my astonishment, shifted her attention to Gregory. "Both of you are kind to have us as guests at your lovely estate. It was thoughtful of you, Mr. Davis, to give us the opportunity to slowly step back into society after so much time in mourning."

"I…you are most welcome." Gregory sputtered and shifted on his feet. Her compliments, and attention, clearly made him uncomfortable, and I did not blame him for the reaction. Even during our courtship, Sabrina had never paid him much mind. It was strange that she would do so now.

Had our conversation led her to shift her focus to him? It seemed unlikely given Gregory did not possess either the title or the wealth that Sabrina regarded as the primary requirements for marriage. No, the woman played games, and Gregory was merely a pawn in her schemes. What purpose she had for him was the question.

"Shall we?" Gregory gestured to the door with a forced smile. His expression turned into wide-eyed panic when Sabrina stepped forward and took his arm. I almost felt sorry for him, but much of this was his own doing, and truthfully, I was relieved to not be the recipient of her attention.

With Sabrina attached to Gregory, I was left to either escort Mrs. Davis or Miss Scott. The senior of the two raised her eyebrows at me and gave a subtle nod to the younger of them, expectation written on her expression. I did not hesitate to offer Miss Scott my arm, silently thanking the matron for not requiring my escort.

Miss Scott accepted gentle hesitation, and it occurred to me that I had never been given the privilege of having her on my arm. Or, perhaps, I hadn't taken the opportunity before, something I was coming to regret. She had not garnered my notice in London, not beyond her acquaintance with Sabrina and typical presence during our social excursions.

But I noticed her now, and I would not waste this opportunity.