18. Chapter 18

Chapter eighteen

Amelia

D ark hair and dark eyes—those were features that reminded me of Papa. Those were features that Grace possessed and I did not. My sister sat across the room in her bed, her nose pointed downward as she scoured the pages of a new romance novel, unaware of the turmoil that plagued my mind.

I ran my fingers along my plaited hair and stared at myself in the looking glass. Blue eyes peered back at me, ones that resembled my mother's. For months, I'd hated my reflection, for the reminder of how vastly different mine and Papa's appearances were. I couldn't stop the constant comparison, nor the curiosity that so often followed.

Did I look like him? The man who had sired me? My biological father.

The question was haunting, perhaps more so since I knew I would never have the answer. Mama refused to discuss the man's identity with me, claiming I already had a father who'd accepted and loved me, despite her mistakes. She was not wrong.

Papa had known of my illegitimacy from the beginning. He had been away for some time, seeing to business in London, and found his wife with child upon his return. There was no chance I was his, and Mama had confessed then that she had found comfort with a local farmer, though their relationship was not based in love. My parents' marriage had been an arrangement, and while Mama had not held any particular affection for Papa at the time, she did regret her actions. Regretted her broken vows.

And Papa had forgiven her, perhaps faster than even I had upon learning the truth.

Those months of anger had been some of the worst of my existence. My family had always been a sure foundation, and the truth had traded my steady ground for sand that seemed to shift beneath my feet.

Not long after Papa took ill, he had called me to his study and revealed everything to me. Only he, Mama, and I knew all the details, in addition to his solicitor, Mr. Montgomery, who had been informed years before as Papa's childhood friend and closest confidante. Mr. Montgomery had passed away years ago, and I didn't believe he had directly given Sabrina the information, but Sabrina had possessed a letter between him and my father. A letter that stated, quite clearly, the issue of my birth. How Sabrina had come by such a letter, I might never know. Perhaps Mr. Montgomery had merely been careless in his old age.

Regardless, concern that the information would get out was why Papa had told me. He did not wish me to be caught completely off-guard. Little good it had done. Sabrina knew, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

My first Season had not been the pleasant and exciting experience I'd hoped it would be. Sabrina targeted me within weeks of arriving in Town, and I became her puppet, bound to do her bidding or else have my legitimacy called into question.

So I had obeyed, not just to save myself, but to protect Grace. While she was unquestioningly Papa's daughter, one rumor declaring her illegitimate could destroy her chances of finding a good match during her upcoming entry into Society. I would not be the cause of ruining my sister's happiness, even if it meant I would never find it for myself.

"You are awfully quiet this morning," said Grace, resting her open book in her lap. "Is something troubling you?"

A great many things troubled me, but it was my nervous anticipation of what the morning could bring that had me most on edge. Last night after dinner, Mrs. Davis had delivered a note to me from Lord Emerson. My heart had nearly imploded reading his request to meet him in the gardens.

That he had taken the time to concoct a scheme that would allow us to do so without Sabrina's knowledge filled me with a deep amount of happiness, but it was his valediction that had left me most undone .

Irrevocably Yours,

James

Once, I might have chided myself for reading into such things, but after that moment in my bedchamber, after he had so tenderly kissed my hand and assured me Sabrina's words were untrue, everything had changed. How had I ever thought he'd developed a tendre for Grace? My sister had been right all along—Lord Emerson's attention had settled on me—and I could no longer deny it.

I was also hesitant to confess the revelation. Grace would gloat. Perhaps not aloud, but her silent smugness would irk me more. Still, I needed to tell her. I would require our maid during my garden excursion, which meant one of Mr. Davis's staff would have to attend to my sister.

Not that she required much now, her leg having nearly healed…or healed to what was normal for Grace.

I cleared my throat and turned in the chair to face her. "Mr. Davis is supposed to take Sabrina into town this morning."

Grace's dark brows rose. "Mr. Davis? Why would he do that? The man seems positively terrified of the woman."

I held back a laugh. "You are likely not mistaken, but Lord Emerson has asked him to do it."

Grace's lips twitched. "And why would he sacrifice his friend?"

"So we can take a walk in the gardens."

A smile erupted over my sister's face. "We? As in, the two of you?"

"Yes, and do not look so smug about it."

"I do not look smug. I am simply…delighted to have a full afternoon of privacy."

I folded my arms and glared at her. "Do not go getting ideas of grandeur, either. It is a walk in the gardens. Nothing more than that."

As much hope as the last few days had given me, nothing more could come of my interactions with the earl. I could not risk Sabrina starting rumors out of vengeance, but more than that, a man of Lord Emerson's position would never lower himself to a match with an illegitimate.

"Just a walk, of course," Grace said. "When did he ask you? Last night during dinner? "

Lord Emerson had escorted me to dinner again last night, and Grace had been fixated on that fact ever since. I had silently thanked Mrs. Davis for waiting until my sister was distracted to hand me the earl's note. I could only imagine how Grace would have reacted. Even Mrs. Davis had given it to me with a knowing smile.

At least it hadn't been a smug one, though.

"Yesterday," I answered with mock nonchalance. "There is something he wished to tell me in private."

"Oh really?" Grace waggled her brows.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Grace. Stop that. The man simply discovered something while he was in town, something he said I might find helpful. He's not about to propose."

Just the idea made my stomach swoop. I couldn't imagine what Lord Emerson could possibly have to tell me that would be helpful, but I had to believe it wasn't an excuse for a more intimate conversation.

"Helpful." Grace snuggled farther under her covers, a satisfied look on her face. "I could think of a few things that would be incredibly helpful."

"Grace," I said, reprimanding her with my tone.

"Fine, fine. I shall say no more."

She didn't need to, not with the expression she continued to wear even as our lady's maid did my hair. I attempted to smother any anticipation I felt. The earl had convinced Mr. Davis to escort Sabrina into town, but that did not mean the duchess would go along with the plan. I couldn't think of any reason she would accept our host's offer. It wasn't him she intended to marry.

At a quarter to ten, I positioned myself near Grace's window. The view of the carriageway, which was far better than the one from my own window, allowed me to see who came and went, and it was the reason I learned Sabrina had, in fact, accepted Mr. Davis's offer. The man handed her into the carriage, and I watched the conveyance roll away from the estate for several minutes before daring to venture from Grace's chamber, our lady's maid in tow.

The butler gave me a shallow nod as he opened the front door for us. Rocks crunched beneath my feet, and I donned a pair of kid gloves as we rounded the house and entered the gardens through a wooden arch. Tall hedges lined either side of the path until it opened into a more spacious area .

To the left, apple trees with tiny blossoms hummed with bees, and buttercups mingled around their bases, swaying lazily in the soft breeze. My gaze slid left toward the pond in the center of the garden, where four Italian statues stood sentinel, two of them reflected in the still water, along with the man who had requested my presence.

The earl's sandy hair tossed in the wind, his back facing me. Today, he wore a dark coat and tan breeches that complimented his broad shoulders and fine figure, though I could admit I'd never seen him in anything that didn't.

My cheeks flushed, and I forced my gaze to the stone pathway instead, peering up only to gauge how close to him I was. A few feet away, I stopped, my voice weaker than I'd hoped. "Good morning, my lord."

The earl spun around, and his expression immediately lit with a smile. "You came."

"Did you think I would not?"

He shrugged, though a playful smile remained. "I had some doubts, likely more from fear than actual expectation."

My stomach knotted. He'd feared I wouldn't come? Was what he had to tell me that important, or—

No, it would do me no good to dwell on such a question.

Lord Emerson stepped forward, offering me his arm. "Since you've yet to tell me what animal you would compare me to, I couldn't know for certain you trust me enough for a walk."

I took his arm, smiling wide as we started forward and followed the path away from the pond and house. "I haven't decided on an animal, but regardless of what I choose, I do trust you. Have you decided on one for yourself?"

"No," he said with a slight laugh. "I admit my mind has been rather preoccupied with other things." He looked down at me, and my heart stuttered with the tenderness I saw in his eyes. "More important things."

I looked away, hoping my bonnet would hide my embarrassment. "Convincing me that you're not a pig is unimportant?"

He laughed fully at that. "You're right. I should place more priority on the matter. We've established that I'm intelligent. Might we start there? Chimpanzees are said to be intelligent, are they not? "

"I may enjoy reading, my lord, but I cannot claim any enjoyment in learning about animals. Still, you are not quite so smelly or hairy as the chimpanzees at the menagerie."

"A good observation, though I wonder at your use of so . Am I a small bit smelly?"

"Everyone is smelly. Some smell of soap. Or flowers. Others of less pleasing odors."

"A chimpanzee would fall into the latter, I presume?"

My cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling. The man made it far too easy to feel happy and cheerful, especially with such ridiculous conversational topics.

"Yes, the latter," I said. "Displeasing, and pungently so."

"And me? Of what do I smell?"

Without permission, my body leaned into him and my lungs drew in a deep breath. I ignored the heat in my cheeks as I pulled away. "Citrus and sandalwood."

"Would you classify that as a pleasing sort of smelly?"

Drat him. Was he determined to set my face aflame? "Yes, a pleasing sort."

He tossed a glance over his shoulder, presumably searching for my maid, before leaning closer to me and whispering. "Would you like to know what you smell like, Amelia?" He continued without allowing me time to recover from his use of my name. "Like the first snow of winter, clean and rejuvenating. But there is a hint of something more. A sweet something that is not quite floral but no less intoxicating."

My breath hitched. I wished for snow in that moment. I needed the cold powder so I might bury my face in it and extinguish the heat. No one had ever described the scent of the soap nor the perfume I used in such a manner.

He pulled away, though his grin suggested he wasn't oblivious to the effect he had on me. "So, neither of us can relate to a chimpanzee. I suppose we will need to contemplate a different animal."

My mind was incapable of contemplating much of anything at present.

"I do have another request to ask of you," he continued when I didn't respond. "That you dispose of the my lord and simply call me James."

My feet halted, and I stared up at him. "I do not think that is wise. "

"Why not? Does it cause you great offense that I wish to call you Amelia? I confess I have done so in my head for some time now."

"No, not offense. It is only that…" I bit my lip. Hearing my name on his lips was a thrill I'd never anticipated I would experience, but despite how much I enjoyed it, such an intimate exchange would do me more harm than I could bear.

"I will return to addressing you formally if that is what you prefer," he said softly.

The disappointment in his voice pierced me. "It is not what I prefer, but given our circumstances, my preference is not the only thing I must consider."

His jaw clenched. "Sabrina. You worry she will hear and seek retribution?"

"It is not myself I worry about most. My actions will have consequences on my family. I do not expect you to understand."

"Of course I cannot understand." His words were sharp but not so loud my maid would overhear. "How can I when you will not tell me what Sabrina holds against you?" He took my hands in his own, his expression imploring.

I shook my head, ignoring the warmth of his gloved hands holding mine. "You will not see me the same way, and I cannot bear to lose your friendship."

"I feel I have come to know you these last few weeks. I cannot imagine a secret that would tarnish you so thoroughly in my mind."

"You don't know that," I whispered.

"Just as you cannot know whether it will change my opinion of you. If you are permitted to act on assumptions, then I must be given the same privilege."

He was right. I was not being fair. Still, I could not bring myself to do it. "My family would be the ones who suffered should Sabrina retaliate. That, I cannot risk."

"But what if I told you I might know a way to keep your secret safe? I spoke to the Duke of Rochester. I know why Sabrina left his estate. The information does not paint her in a good light, and while she may be a widow of title, it could damage her reputation."

"Are you suggesting we use that information against her?" I pulled my hands away, aware that my maid was watching us from down the path .

"Yes. She attempted to seduce the man and, despite his warnings, refused to leave him in peace. He banished her to the dower house. She has her dowry to live on, but that was not enough for her."

My shoulders slumped. "So she ran to you."

"To my money, it would seem. She certainly no longer requires my title. I suspect her falling out with the new Duke of Rochester will have repercussions on her father's business dealings as well. My connections would appeal to him, which is likely why he went along with the scheme to forgive Gregory of his debts if he convinced me out of hiding."

"Then perhaps it is not Sabrina's fault, or at least it may not have been her idea. Her father is a horrible man, concerned only with money and his social standing. He may have come up with the idea, may have even pushed her to seduce the duke."

Lord Emerson seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "I hadn't considered that, but it does not excuse Sabrina's actions. The ton will not be forgiving of her attempts to ensnare an engaged man."

"Perhaps."

The earl tilted his head. "You don't believe it will encourage her to remain silent about your secret."

"I cannot say, but I won't take that chance. I appreciate your efforts to help me. Truly, I do."

His lips turned down. "But it isn't enough."

I grimaced. He nodded and offered me his arm again. In silence, he turned us about, and we began walking toward the house. My maid waited patiently for us to pass before taking up pace some distance behind us.

"You must think me a coward," I said softly.

"Not at all." He smiled, though it was more lackluster than before. "You are hesitant because the decision will affect those you care about in some way. I cannot help but admire that."

"You should not be admiring me, Lord Emerson."

"James. And I will continue to do so, whether you want me to or not."

"But—"

"I don't know your secret, and you believe an informal connection with each other is unwise. Yes, you have made yourself clear, but that does not mean my heart will listen. It is rather stubborn that way. Until I have lost all hope, it will not be dissuaded. "

He chuckled at my impatient sigh. How was it that his answer could be everything I wanted and didn't want at the same time? It was quite frustrating.

"Your heart could not possibly be so fully engaged," I said, though an illogical part of me hoped he was in earnest. "You despised me when we arrived at Fallborn. It has only been three weeks, and I must be particularly aggravating given my refusal to confide in you."

"Quite aggravating, yes," he said with a teasing grin. "More so with your refusal to call me by my given name."

"I shan't call you James. It is inappropriate."

His lips twitched, and I glared at him. "Besides just now. I will not do it."

He pushed a low hanging branch out of our path, his voice carrying an undertone of amusement. "We shall see, Miss Scott. We shall see."