17. Chapter 17

Chapter seventeen

James

I had as good as confessed my intentions toward Miss Scott, and where I might have felt trepidation before, I now experienced a giddy sort of hope for a future I'd thought was lost to me. She had never admitted to as much, but I suspected the woman, at the very least, found me attractive and enjoyed my company. That was grounds for a respectable marriage, but I believed there could be more between us in time.

The empty corridor was silent but for the sound of my boots tapping lightly against the floor. We had been fortunate that Sabrina had not discovered my presence in Miss Scott's bedchamber. Not because we would have been forced to wed. No, Sabrina would not have spoken a word to anyone, as that would be akin to surrendering. But she would have made Amelia's life unpleasant.

Or more unpleasant.

I grimaced, opening the door to my room and slipping inside. I intended to court Miss Scott, but I couldn't make a move to do so until I understood the nature of this secret . Whatever it was, she feared it would ruin her, enough so that she refused to tell me or rebel against Sabrina's demands. That hinted at its severity, and the way she had spoken of her mother left me to wonder if the situation was somehow connected. Even if it were, I hadn't enough details to determine how.

I closed the door and began removing my coat but stopped when something slid across the floor beneath my boot. I bent over and grabbed a piece of paper, one with a rather jagged edge that looked as though it had been torn from a book .

My brows furrowed as I held it up to catch the light from the window and read.

May 7, 1815

He is an earl—handsome, titled, and wealthy.

I crumpled the paper into a pathetic wad, not reading the remainder of the note, and tossed it toward the fire burning in the hearth. It bounced off the wall instead. Such good aim I possessed. I could blame my irritation, though. Did Sabrina truly think her flattery would change my mind?

Crossing the room to the crackling fire, I pulled the worn letter from my coat pocket. Amelia had suggested I get rid of it, but… A smile tugged at my lips. When had I begun to think of her as Amelia? I found I liked her name, even in the confines of my thoughts. The word had a sweetness to it, much like the woman herself. Fitting.

I shook my head free of my musings and unfolded the letter. I had lost count of the number of times I'd read it over the last year, first reliving the moment to stoke my anger and later with the determination to understand what I had done wrong. To find what imperfection she'd seen in me.

Though faded, each looped letter, the slight slant of the words, was familiar to me. I would recognize Sabrina's handwriting anywhere with how long I'd studied it.

My brows constricted, and I glanced to where the crumpled paper lay on the floor. Curiosity prodded at me, and I stepped forward to retrieve the piece. It was more difficult to read with the creases I'd created, but it took mere moments to realize the penmanship was not the same. Unless Sabrina had asked a servant to write the note for her, which was highly unlikely, it had come from someone else.

I carried both papers to my bed and sat down, my eyes roving over the note with a new sense of eagerness .

May 7, 1815

He is an earl—handsome, titled, and wealthy. But none of those things describe who he truly is. Would that I could ignore his character, ignore that he shows others kindness. Would that I could forget his smile or the sound of his laughter. Would that I could convince my heart that this hopeless attraction is in vain. Life is cruel to have me fall for the man courting my tormentor. I am forced, day in and out, to watch them, to stand by idly while she captures his attention with shallow flirtation and a demure smile.

I had thought that doing the bidding of Miss Perry was the worst sort of fate, but I am coming to realize it is not. No, true agony lies in watching a person I have come to care for be deceived and manipulated.

True agony lies in knowing I can do nothing to save him.

I reread the note twice more, my pulse quickening with each pass. This could have only been written by one person, and it certainly was not Sabrina.

Amelia.

My heart sputtered, and I read again but halted midway through.

Fall for a man…

My eyes fixed on those four words for so long they burned from not blinking. The implication made my heart feel as though it expanded to such a capacity that it might burst from my chest. Amelia Scott had fallen in love with me.

Or she had at the time this note was written. Was it a diary entry? It was dated, and the uneven edging suggested it had been ripped from a larger work. I could not imagine it had been written with the expectation that anyone would see it. Which left another point of curiosity for me to unravel.

Had Amelia slipped this beneath my door? I couldn't fathom when unless she had done so before I returned from my fishing outing with Gregory. But why would she leave it? Was this her way of telling me she had feelings for me?

The idea created a whirlpool of excitement in my stomach, but I stamped it down. As much as I would have liked for Amelia Scott to slip me a love note, she would not have done so. She would not even take a walk with me for how she feared Sabrina would respond.

I chuckled to myself. "Confound the woman. She is a never-ending puzzle."

Knowing that she had thought so highly of me in the past did things to my heart. Were her feelings engaged elsewhere now, or did she perhaps still harbor them? Secretly. Loyally.

A lump lodged in my throat. I had never experienced courtship with a woman whose heart—or in Sabrina's case, attention—did not rest with another man, and the mere possibility that Amelia Scott may have cared for me all this time…well, it stirred emotions I'd never felt. It made me wish to run back to her room and wrap her in my arms.

Perhaps even kiss her.

I stood from the bed and folded the diary page carefully before placing it into my pocket, along with Sabrina's letter. I would not act brashly. For all I knew, Amelia's feelings from a year and a half ago could have faded. She might have found my proposal to Sabrina so abhorrent that she would never consider me in the same light.

But one thing was certain: I was determined to find out and would start with a walk in the gardens.

"No." Gregory shook his head and marched to the other side of the study. "Absolutely not."

"We had an agreement," I reminded, following him. "You broke your promise about gambling, and I've graciously agreed to new terms. You are to distract Sabrina whenever I need."

My friend winced, and I almost considered letting him off the hook, but I needed his help to make this work.

Gregory shook his head again. "I can't this time. She'll never believe it, and then I'll be the one facing her retribution. Do you know the sort of evil look she gave me the other day? She knew, James. She knew I had been sent to stall her so you could escape."

I wanted to argue, but Gregory likely had the right of things. "It is only a ride to town. A bit of shopping. Surely she would appreciate the offer?"

Gregory laughed humorlessly. "If it were you making the offer, indeed, she would! That woman holds no affection for me, and you well know it. Besides, I've no desire to be alone with her in any setting."

"As you said, she holds no affection for you. It is not as though she will trap you into marriage."

"Marriage? You think that is why the duchess terrifies me? Oh, no, my friend. I am far more concerned she will gouge my eyes out with whatever pointy object she can find, not drag me to the altar."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You are being dramatic. She will not gouge your eyes out."

Gregory pointed a finger at me. "She would. She wants you, James, and that woman is accustomed to getting what she wants."

I shrugged. "Well, she cannot have me, and you are going to use her wants against her."

Gregory shot me a skeptical look. "Pray, tell, how am I going to do that?"

"Simple. The same way she used you during our picnic walk."

"I do not follow." Gregory rubbed his temple. "Make sense, James. You are giving me a headache."

"Sabrina thought that flirting with you would make me jealous."

"But it didn't make you jealous."

"No, but we can let her think that it did. And we can use your efforts to stall for me two days ago as fodder for the fire. Tell her that I was angry afterwards. That I told you off because I saw the two of you conversing from the window."

"Lie to her?" Horror spread over his face. "And what happens to me when she realizes I've fooled her? She will eat me alive."

"Again, you are quite dramatic. Sabrina will not eat you. Have we not established that you are not to her tastes? Heavens, I had thought your mother was the only one with a dramatic flare. It is clear she has passed the trait to you."

"I am not dramatic," Gregory muttered .

"Then you will help me?"

Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "You've given me little choice, but I will not promise you this will work. And"—he pointed at me again—"if I don't come back from town, it will be your doing. I expect nothing less than a tear-filled eulogy addressing all my best qualities."

"And what might those be?"

Gregory whacked my arm, and I chuckled, holding my hands up in surrender. "Very well, but I do not think any of that will be necessary. You need only survive another sennight. That was all you promised Mr. Perry, no?"

"Yes, one month is what we agreed upon, though I won't allow myself hope on that front. If Her Grace fails to win you over, she will take her anger out on someone—blame someone—and I fear it might be me."

"Miss Scott is more likely to take the brunt of it," I said, sobering. "I do have a plan, however. I simply cannot execute it yet."

One of Gregory's brows lifted. "A plan to save Miss Scott? Why do I suspect a proposal may be involved?"

My ears burned, and I turned away from my friend. It was one thing to confess my feelings to myself, or even to the lady in question. But telling Gregory he had been correct all along brought me no satisfaction.

"You were right," I said begrudgingly. "She has caught my attention, and not just from a point of curiosity."

Gregory's smirk was unbearable. "I knew you liked her. It has become rather obvious. Even my mother questioned me about it."

"Good. Then it will not be so great a shock when I ask her to deliver a note to Miss Scott."

"A note to meet you in the gardens?" asked Gregory, his smirk growing.

"Yes, with a chaperone . I am a gentleman."

"Of course, and no gentleman has ever stolen a kiss or two."

I shot him a stern look, and he laughed. Never mind that I had contemplated the possibility. Who could blame me after the note I'd found under my door? I hadn't managed to find any clarity on the matter the last two days. Amelia could hardly look at me without blushing, but I wagered that was due to the way I had left things in her bedchamber rather than her having slipped secret confessions from her diary under my door .

"There are things I need to discuss with her. Things that, yes, may free her from Sabrina and pave the way for a courtship. Kissing her would be…" Wonderful. Exciting. A dream. How did I convey my anticipation without sounding like a love-sick school boy?

"Yes, go on and contemplate just how magical the experience will be," said Gregory.

"I'm still not opposed to pummeling you, you know."

"Ah, but you cannot. Until I have assisted you in this scheme, you need me in good health. I am safe for now."

I narrowed my eyes. "For now."

My threats were empty, which Gregory knew, else he would not have grinned all the more triumphant.

"You will speak to Sabrina then?" I asked. "Tonight?"

"Yes, yes." Gregory swatted at the air. "Go see your lady and invite her for a tête-à-tête in my gardens. I will do my best to convince the duchess out of the house for an hour or so tomorrow morning."

"You are the best sort of friend. I could kiss you."

"I beg you will not." Gregory backed away, eyeing me wearily as though I may need to be escorted to bedlam. "Save that for Miss Scott."

I thanked him again before leaving the study to find Mrs. Davis in the parlor off the breakfast room, whom I would ask to deliver a note to Amelia. I could pass it to her myself, but that increased the risk of Sabrina catching on to the scheme, as did slipping the note directly under Amelia's door. Sabrina clearly had no respect for anyone's private quarters. I couldn't chance that she might be with Amelia when she discovered the note.

Mrs. Davis, though, was all too happy to play messenger, her knowing brown eyes dancing with amusement as I made my request before the other guests arrived for dinner. She took the envelope from my hand with a smile. "My, my. I never thought to see you sneaking love letters to a lady. And directly under my nose! Worse yet, making me a part of the scheme." Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "I will see that she gets this."

"I thank you," I said, somewhat sheepishly.

"She is a caring woman, but..." Mrs. Davis tucked the envelope beneath one of the pillows next to her. "Rather loyal. I rarely see her without the duchess. "

I did not miss the accusation in her tone. "Loyalty is not always what it appears. Sometimes, it is merely a front to appease those holding the puppet strings."

Mrs. Davis hummed. "I see. As long as you are certain. I want to believe Miss Scott incapable of harming anyone. She has never given me reason to suppose hidden maliciousness, but I cannot help but worry after you, James." She took my hand and patted it fondly. "My dear, boy."

"You needn't worry." I placed my other hand over hers. "I assure you, if I've learned nothing else, it is to be cautious. In this instance, I have witnessed the strings being pulled myself. Heard the threats that will be executed should Miss Scott not play her role adequately."

Mrs. Davis's eyes turned hard. "Then I regret having ever welcomed the duchess into my home."

I shook my head. "Do not regret it. I have found more clarity and healing in the past three weeks than in a year in Suffolk. Perhaps more than clarity and healing."

At that, her expression softened. "It makes my heart happy to hear it. This house party may turn into a celebration."

I chuckled, imagining the kind of spectacle such a celebration would be with Mrs. Davis in charge. "We can discuss that later. Let us not rush into things. I've not fully declared myself, and there are still obstacles in the way."

She leaned closer to me as if to impart a secret, but her voice did not lower. "We face the obstacles head-on. Victory or death!" She did not shout but threw her fist into the air with enthusiasm, bringing out my laughter.

"Let us hope it is the former."