20. Chapter 20

Chapter twenty

James

I n the two times I had spoken with a woman's guardian to ask for her hand, I'd never experienced a fit of nerves. Sabrina's father, while an intimidating man, had made me more irritated than anxious. He cared nothing for his daughter's happiness, that much had always been clear to me, and would have likely accepted any offer if it came with title and wealth.

Or, perhaps, I had mistaken that wry grin Mr. Perry had worn. He'd given his blessing, but I wondered now if he'd known about Sabrina's secret courtship with the Duke of Rochester. What if Amelia was right? What if Sabrina's actions were driven by orders from her father?

I rubbed my sweaty hands down my breeches, staring at the closed door of Mr. Apsley's room. Speaking to Katherine Garrick's father had been a simple matter. A business agreement. Marriages of convenience did not require nerves as they were made without emotional investment.

I was emotionally invested in my future with Amelia. After a long, sleepless night, I'd come to the conclusion that over the course of this house party, I had fallen. She understood me in a way that made me feel seen. She didn't ridicule me for a love of poetry or fill our conversations with inane topics. We held a deeper connection, one that left me comfortable expressing myself without concern for how she would respond.

Well, perhaps that was untrue. I wanted Amelia to hold me in high regard, as I did her. I needed her good opinion, and I was fairly certain I had it .

The question at present, however, was did I have Rowe Apsley's good opinion. How would this conversation fare? Would it play out like the first experience, second, or somewhere between?

Not knowing set me on edge. I hadn't even bothered to break my fast, fearing anything I ate would end up spewed on the floor.

After a hard swallow and a deep breath, my knuckles rapped softly against the door. Mr. Apsley answered a few moments later, and his brows drew together in surprise. "Lord Emerson?"

"Forgive me, I know it is early, but I wondered if I might have a private word with you?" He nodded, and I continued. "Gregory has lent us use of his study."

We took the corridor in silence and descended the stairs to the ground floor. The house was far too quiet, and I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. I reminded myself that this man and I had gotten on fine thus far, that there was no reason for him to reject my request.

Was there?

Apsley was too reserved for me to have a clear understanding of what he thought of me. Unlike Sabrina's father, he cared deeply for his ward, and title or not, he wouldn't hesitate to turn me down if he thought me the wrong match for her.

He followed me into the study, and I closed the door behind us. I gestured for him to sit down, but Apsley shook his head. "I do not think it necessary. I suspect I know why you've asked for a private word."

He crossed his arms, and one of his brows raised. The look did nothing to put me at ease.

I cleared my throat. "If you suspect I wish to ask for Amelia's hand, then you are correct."

"Amelia? Has she given you leave to address her informally?"

"I…" My mind weaved through my conversations with her, and to my horror, I realized she had not once agreed. In fact, she had insisted on the opposite. "Not precisely, no."

Apsley said nothing in response, but several lines formed on his forehead. He was not appreciative of me taking liberties.

I clasped my hands behind my back to keep them from shaking. "I will be certain to rectify the error as soon as I am able. I meant no disrespect. "

Still, he said nothing, his expression not quite stoic with the hint of contempt furrowing his brow. He would not be won over easily. Best to get straight to my intentions.

"I wish for your blessing," I blurted.

Apsley's expression softened, though he showed no surprise by my declaration. "Why?"

"Why? It is a matter of respect, and as her guardian—"

"No." The man shook his head. "Why do you want to marry my cousin?"

"Ah." My heart beat quicker. Admitting to myself that I had fallen in love was a simple thing. Saying the words aloud was another entirely, especially to a man whose opinion I could not sufficiently decipher.

I clasped my hands tighter and drew in a breath, but Apsley spoke before I could make any confession. "If you wish to marry her as a means to save her from the duchess, I must express my objection. While I do feel Amelia's relationship with the duchess has come at a cost, marriage to you would not fix things. Not unless it was what she wanted. Not unless it would make her happy."

"Her happiness would be my priority," I countered.

"I am not questioning your motives, Lord Emerson. It has become clear to me that, while you started with a mere desire to help two weeks ago, you have come to care for her. How deep that care runs, I cannot say, but it is Amelia's feelings for which I require clarity. I will not give her away unless I can be certain she will be happy, preferably the kind of happy that comes from something born out of more than respect. More than rescue."

A love match. He wanted a love match for Amelia.

A smile tugged at my lips, the words from her diary pages filling my thoughts. "I understand your hesitance—admire it, even. You have her best interest at heart, and for that I am grateful. I do have reason to believe that Amelia once held a tendre for me, and it is my intention to discover whether her feelings remain unchanged. As for my part, you may rest easy knowing that my regard for your cousin could not run deeper." My smile grew, an overwhelming giddiness expanding to fill my chest, and I chuckled. "I love her."

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew them to be true beyond certainty. It was surprisingly freeing to confess them .

"So, this is not just an attempt to save her from the duchess?"

I looked at Apsley and found him grinning. Grinning . I had never seen him wear such emotion. "No, though I hope that will be an added benefit. As a matter of fact, that is something I also wanted to speak with you about."

Apsley held up his hand. "One matter at a time. If I may be blunt with you?"

"So long as it is not the blunt end of a sword, please do."

His lips twitched. "I believe you to be a good man, one who would treat my cousin with respect and cherish her the way she should be cherished, but I must withhold my blessing until I am certain Amelia returns your regard. I promised her father I would look after his girls, and I intend to keep that promise. He would have wanted them both to marry for love, and while I appreciate your sentiments, they do not guarantee they are mutual." He stepped forward until he stood directly in front of me. "However, should I learn you have earned Amelia's heart, I would happily support the connection. In many ways, I hope you have."

He offered me his hand, and I shook it, hoping my disappointment did not show. His response was fair, but my heart sank a little. It was not the marriage blessing I wanted, but for now, it would have to do. "It seems we both require clarity from your cousin."

"I have two female wards in addition to two sisters of my own," said Apsley. "I find myself in need of clarity rather frequently. Females are deuced difficult to understand."

"We are in agreement on that front."

Apsley released my hand. "Now that we have that settled, what else did you wish to discuss?"

My stomach knotted with a different sort of nervousness. Would the man take offense if I asked him whether Amelia was illegitimate? I scoffed inwardly. Of course, he would. Beyond the note, I had no proof, and I had no desire to tell Apsley I was in possession of his cousin's diary pages. The man would request pistols at dawn.

I released a shaky breath. "I know what Her Grace holds against Amelia. Something of a sensitive nature, and I hope you will forgive me for asking. The knowledge has not reduced my affection for her. "

"We agreed blunt is best, did we not?" asked Apsley, a look of misgiving twisting his features. "As her guardian I should be apprised of the situation, especially if it is of a serious nature."

"Very well, then. Is Amelia illegitimate?"

"What?" Apsley reared back, clearly not having expected that question. "Of course not."

So, Amelia's secret had been kept even from her guardian. Perhaps I should not have presumed my assumptions were correct, but something in my gut told me I was.

"What brought you to this conclusion?" Apsley eyed me with a scowl. The man had borne more emotion in the last few minutes than he had the entire three weeks at Fallborn.

"I will not say how I have come by the information, but you may trust the source is reputable. I believe the duchess has somehow become aware, and it is this information that she holds over your cousin. Were it to leak among the ton —"

"Amelia would be ruined." Apsley swore. "Ruined by a rumor that is not true."

I hesitated before asking, "Are you certain? There isn't a chance there could be truth behind it?"

Apsley met my gaze, his eyes steely. "Amelia's parents loved one another deeply. I witnessed their affection for myself over the course of two decades. I spent a great deal of time at their estate. Furthermore, my uncle was a gentleman—a proper gentleman who never would have formed such an intimate connection outside of marriage. What you ask is impossible."

"I do not mean to question your uncle's honor, but things happen. It would not be the first time such connections were established before a marriage took place." I placed as much sympathy in my tone as I could muster. It was clear that Rowe Apsley had been very close to Amelia's father, and my revelation had angered him.

"No. I cannot believe it." Apsley shook his head, though his voice had carried with it enough uncertainty that I knew even he had begun to question things.

"I hope you are correct, but either way, Her Grace is using it as a threat. We must stop her. "

"Agreed, but how do you propose we go about it? She is a duchess, after all. A person with far more connections and influence than I can ever hope to have as a spare."

"And my influence as Amelia's friend may prove fruitless, but if we were to marry, the damage would be minimal. The question is will such rumors extend beyond her."

Apsley's eyes widened. "If society shuns Amelia, they might do the same to Grace. That must be why Amelia is beholden to the duchess. She fears what will become of her sister."

I nodded, glad that at least some of my assumptions held merit. "Yes, Amelia cares for Miss Grace too much to risk allowing the rumors to do her sister's reputation harm. It makes the situation more difficult to navigate as a whole."

Apsley ran a hand through his auburn hair, and I noted the exhaustion in his features. From what I understood, he hadn't expected to inherit his uncle's estate, nor did he know he would be named guardian of the man's daughters. I couldn't imagine having such responsibility cast upon me so suddenly. I had known from the beginning I would inherit, that I would bear a title, and becoming an earl at the age of twelve, while difficult, had not come with the same sort of shock that Mr. Apsley must have faced.

He heaved a sigh. "I never expected to be in this position. I fear I am not cut from strong enough cloth. How can I protect them, ensure their happiness, when the forces of the universe work against me? It is one thing to fail at managing an estate I never thought to inherit, but to fail my cousins…" He shook his head. "Their futures are in my hands, and I am too inadequate to fulfill my promises."

Was he failing to manage the estate? I wanted to ask, perhaps even offer him assistance, but there were more important matters at present.

"You do yourself a disservice to believe yourself inadequate," I said. "Few men would accept the responsibility of two wards with such humility and determination. They are fortunate to have someone who cares about them, who is willing to fight for them."

"Willing, yes, but that does not guarantee victory."

"It goes a long way toward it."

He chuckled, and some of the weariness in his features faded. "You are right, of course. I only wish I knew where to begin. How to proceed. "

"I have information we can use against Her Grace that might encourage her to hold her tongue. This I expressed to Amelia, but she did not think it was enough to offset the risks. I have written to the Duke of Rochester in hopes of learning something more substantial."

"The duke? You really have gone to great lengths to help Amelia, haven't you?" It was more statement than question, and I gave Mr. Apsley time to contemplate in silence rather than answering. "Is Amelia aware? That you know why she is friends with the duchess." The word seemed to stick to his tongue as if it were rotten fruit. I understood the sentiment.

"Not yet, but I intend to speak with her." I smiled wryly. "She and I have a great many things to discuss."

Apsley nodded. "Let us wait for the duke's reply, then, before we approach Her Grace. The more we know, the better. In the meantime, I think it would be wise to err on the side of caution. You need to have a conversation with my cousin, but it would be best done without the duchess knowing."

"Yes, a task that proves a challenge in its own right." But not so challenging that I would allow it to stand in my way.

After offering Mr. Apsley the information I had already garnered from the duke, the two of us parted ways in the foyer. He claimed the need for a long ride, and I suspected he wanted time to gather his thoughts. I, too, needed the quiet sanctuary known as my bedchamber. I had a proposal to prepare, after all.

I climbed the stairs, relieved to have no sight of Sabrina. When I rounded the corner into the corridor, however, my feet halted. A figure with dark curls was hunched in front of my door, her gloved fingers sliding a folded note through the crack in the bottom .

I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed, and watched as Miss Grace straightened before rapping on my door. She turned abruptly, and the mischievous smirk she wore faded when her eyes settled on me.

Her jaw dropped, and she sputtered wordlessly, rather like a fish out of water. I could have left her in distress, but I was a gentleman and decided that my role at Fallborn had, to my surprise, become that of a hero.

I pushed away from the wall and approached the young woman, my grin growing with each step forward. "Miss Grace," I said with a slight bow. "How are you today?"

"Well," she answered, though she looked quite the opposite with how pale her face had become.

"You know," I said, lowering my voice, "I have found several odd notes shoved under my door lately. You wouldn't know anything about them, would you?"

Her cheeks tinted. "Not a thing."

I chuckled and offered her my arm. "Perhaps we might take a walk outside and discuss possible culprits, then? Something tells me you might have some insight."

Her shoulders slumped, and she appeared utterly perturbed by the prospect, but she accepted my arm, wrapping her dainty gloved fingers around it. I guided her down the stairs and out the front door in silence. It would not do for this conversation to be overheard.

We followed a path shaded by a line of trees, their leaves a dark green that had been absent in the winter months, and the farther we distanced ourselves from the house, the more Miss Grace seemed to relax.

"So," I started slowly. "You know nothing about the notes?"

Miss Grace groaned. "Let us not pretend, my lord. I know I have been caught, biscuit in hand, but I cannot help myself. They are delicious."

"Biscuits are delicious?"

"Yes, biscuits with swoony, happy endings are one of the few delights this dreary world has to offer."

"I thought we were discussing the notes slipped under my door?"

"We are. You see, Lord Emerson, I may have a penchant for reading romance novels. While I may not have a taste for poetry, I do enjoy tales of love, especially those that bloom in adversity. I could devour them every day and never tire of them."

"Like biscuits? "

"Precisely. When I see an opportunity to eat them, I snatch them before anyone can stop me."

I rubbed my temple with my free hand, wishing I was having this conversation with Apsley instead. He would have gotten to the point by now. Women were hard to understand, but this one seemed inclined to speak in metaphors, making her twice as difficult to make sense of.

"If the note is a biscuit, then why put it under my door? Would you not keep it for yourself?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "The note is not the biscuit; your love story with my sister is. The two of you were taking far too long to bake on your own, so I stoked the fire."

My lips rose on one side. "Because you wish to eat us?"

Miss Grace shot me an unamused look. "Because I wish my sister to find her love match, and I worried she would let the one right in front of her slip through her fingers. Biscuits have a way of crumbling. I cannot enjoy a crumbled biscuit." Her nose scrunched as though she found the idea truly distasteful.

"I see. And what makes you think that I am your sister's love match? I take it you have read her diary—the notes are from her diary, are they not?"

Her cheeks turned pink again, and she spoke meekly. "Yes. I found it when I injured my leg and slept in her room. She will not be happy when she finds out, but after reading it, I couldn't do nothing. Amelia is too selfless. She does everything the duchess tells her, all to protect me."

"First, I must strongly encourage you to return that diary. Amelia must be incredibly worried it will end up in the wrong hands given the information it contains." I waited for Miss Grace to nod her agreement before continuing. "You believe it's true then? That Amelia is illegitimate?"

Miss Grace nibbled at her lip as we continued at a sedate pace down the path. "I do not believe she would have written something like that in her diary if it wasn't true. There are more details dated from the night Papa told her everything." She looked at me, her dark eyes fraught with worry. "You do like her, don't you? Enough that illegitimacy will not keep you from courting her?"

I smiled, hoping it would reassure her that my answer was genuine. "I more than like your sister, Miss Grace. I intend to ask her to marry me. "

She gasped, tugging me to a stop, her hand lifting to cover her mouth. "You are in earnest?"

"Yes," I said with a chuckle. "But I am not certain she will accept my offer. Not unless we can do something to keep Her Grace from leaking the information about Amelia's parentage. If you have read the diary, you know what a tight hold the woman has on your sister."

Even I could tell after having read merely two pages. That Amelia had been bound to Sabrina for so long fanned my anger, and I realized then that my animosity toward the duchess had shifted. I no longer cared that she had jilted me. No, that had been a blessing, and I praised the heavens both that she had and that I now understood I had never loved her. Not truly. The pain had been real but perhaps more associated with my pride than my heart. Regardless, Sabrina's continued abhorred treatment of Amelia ignited an anger in me that seemed to burn even hotter than what I'd experienced before.

I offered Miss Grace my arm again, and we began walking toward the house. "I will not ask you for the diary, as I mentioned I hope for you to return it, but is there anything within those pages that might assist us? Proof Sabrina has been involved in scandal, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid not. At least not beyond Sabrina jilting you. I don't believe the ton would find that gossip very tantalizing given she has already married the duke." She let out an irritated grunt. "To think all that time I never noticed how the duchess treated Amelia! How was I so blind to my own sister's suffering?"

I gave the hand resting on my arm a reassuring pat. "The same way I was. I spent more time with the two of them than anyone. I should have noticed, but I was blind to all of it—Her Grace's deceit, Amelia's suffering. We can do nothing save move forward. Help in whatever way we can."

"You are not angry with me then? For interfering?"

"Not at all. I'm glad you did. My feelings for your sister have been growing since we arrived at Fallborn, but I was uncertain how she felt about me. Those diary pages gave me more insight than I could have ever hoped for, though I wish I knew whether her affection for me remains intact."

"It does," Miss Grace stated firmly, which drew out my laughter.

"You are so certain. Feelings can change, you know."

"They can, but I do not believe that is the case in this instance. My sister is still very much in love with you."

"Because that is the only way for your biscuit not to crumble?" I asked, teasingly.

Miss Grace laughed. "Now you are catching on, my lord. I am fully invested in this story. I hope to see it reach a satisfying conclusion."

"As do I."

"Then together we will solve this problem. We have a few days before—"

She slowed to a stop, and I followed her gaze to the house where a solid black carriage rested. It bore no crest but appeared to have little wear, as though recently purchased. A footman unloaded two large trunks, and when the door swung open, a man dressed in an emerald green coat with gold buttons that caught the sunlight stepped down.

Sabrina's father had arrived at Fallborn.