Chapter 19

Amelia

Fury coursed through Amelia's veins as she walked swiftly away from the Lyndon townhouse, her parasol clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Her pace was all that would give her away, though. She was careful enough of that. She kept a smile pasted on her face, held her head high, and let her anger simmer just below the surface.

I will not lose Simon to that slip of a girl, she thought, the words hissing through her mind like a serpent. Insufferable little lass, returned so recently from Ireland. She thinks all of London will fall at her feet, but I won't allow it. Not everyone. Not Simon. He's mine.

She'd known she wanted to win Simon Lyndon the first time she met him all those years ago. He had been younger then, but still as handsome and self-possessed as he was now. He seemed so confident, as though he needed nothing in the world, and that had rankled her. She was Amelia Lafleche, after all, the French beauty taking London by storm. She hated that this aristocrat's son, not even endowed with his own title, should be unmoved by her charms.

And he had been unmoved. That much she could see now. At the time, she had allowed herself to believe he was indulging her own fancy, but now that she had seen him in more context, she could tell he was just a polite gentleman.

He allowed her advances to avoid any embarrassment. That angered her more than anything. Amelia Lafleche did not need to be patronized. She was the sort of jewel that gentlemen spent all their lives chasing. She was not the sort of woman to mount a chase of her own.

But then her husband had died—great pity that—and she was free again. Lyndon returned from wherever he spent the bulk of his business time, and she thought she had another chance…. that is, until Lady Isabella Collingwood reappeared in London. On their first meeting, Amelia had only been mildly amused by her. The girl seemed slight and unimpressive. She had no sense of true style and had none of Amelia's cunning and seduction.

Then came Simon's appearance at the picnic, and Amelia saw at once what everyone else seemed oblivious to—all of Simon's stolen glances and quiet energy and gentlest tones were directed to that unassuming, unimpressive little woman. It made Amelia want to spit.

She slowed her step, catching her breath beneath a flat she was almost as familiar with as her own home. Her thoughts were still tumbling over each other, but she pushed the venom aside and raised the knocker to alert the butler she was outside.

The old man let her in as was and showed her upstairs to the small sitting room there. She didn't have long to wait. In a matter of minutes, Lord Ramsgate appeared in the room. He looked rumpled and unkempt, dressed in a long morning coat made of embroidered fabric over trousers and a loosely buttoned shirt. His hair was tousled, and she recognized the squint of his eyes at once.

"A hard night at the gaming tables, Lord Ramsgate?" she asked coyly, claiming the best seat in the room for herself.

He winced and walked to a side table to pour himself a tumbler of water. "Keep your voice down, my lady," he said. "You drive a spike through my temple with every word."

"You know it is possible to indulge in only one vice at a time," Amelia said wryly. "You could always gamble away your life's savings without drowning your sorrows in scotch."

Lord Ramsgate smiled sourly back at her. "That would take the fun out of it all. The gaming tables are an experience, after all." He narrowed his eyes. "Is that a note of judgment I hear in your voice? A true pity if it is. I like you better when you're permissive and scandalous."

"Oh, I don't judge your gaming at all," Amelia said, propping her chin on her hand. In fact, it's quite useful to me. A bankrupt man is a malleable man, and I have you right where I want you.

"I don't remember arranging a visit with you today." Lord Ramsgate threw himself down in the settee, propped his feet up on one of the curved arms, and closed his eyes.

"We have business to discuss."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?" He groaned. "The light in this room is agonizing."

"I'm afraid it can't wait." Amelia let her tone drip with honey. She knew Lord Ramsgate's sort—proud, self-indulgent, spoiled—and it was best to handle such men with delicacy. "It concerns Lady Isabella."

Another groan. "I would say I did my duty by her at that dreadfully tedious house party," the man said, throwing a hand over his eyes to further block any rays of light attempting to get through. "No man could have done better. She's a good mark—I'll grant you that—but good marks are always too dull to be considered good company."

Not everyone thinks she is dull. The reminder of Simon's words to Grace rankled Amelia even now. She fought to keep a good temper. "I'm dreadfully afraid you're going to lose that ‘good mark,' my dear Lord Ramsgate, if you do not act soon. Lady Isabella has another suitor, and I have reason to believe she will have a proposal from that corner within the next few days."

Lord Ramsgate sat up, squinting into the light. "Who? No one else is even in the running as far as I can see."

Amelia sighed. "That is what I came to tell you. Please, do your best to keep up." She stood and walked over to the liquor cart, pouring a generous glass of amber liquid and bringing it back to Lord Ramsgate. "We don't have time for you to sober up properly, Lord Ramsgate. This should take the edge off that headache, and then at least I can have the benefit of your full attention for the remainder of this conversation."

Lord Ramsgate didn't hesitate. He drained the glass, set it aside, and wiped his mouth with a sigh of relief. "Go on, then," he said, color coming back into his cheeks. "Who is this suitor, and why have I not met him?"

"You have met him," Amelia corrected him sweetly. "He goes by the name Mr. Lyndon."

Lord Ramsgate didn't make any attempt to hide his derision. He laughed outright, and leaned back on the couch pillows with snide grin on his face. "That gentleman? He's hardly competition for a man like me. I did not see any flirtation between the two of them at the house party. He's an old family friend, that's all."

"Of course you did not see flirtation," Amelia snapped, beginning to lose her patience. Why does this oaf need everything spelled out for him? "Lady Isabella is more discreet than that, and you are just a man. A woman, like myself, sees these things. Allow me to reassure you that Mr. Lyndon is more than just a family friend for Lady Isabella. She cares for him, and she might well accept his proposal if he were to present his heart to her."

"How boring to hear you, of all people, speaking of hearts and affection in matters of marriage." Lord Ramsgate fixed Amelia with a calculating smile. "I expect better of you, Lady O'Mara—you, who hatched up this whole plot in the first place. Wasn't it you who came to me and told me of Lady Isabella's fabulous wealth? Wasn't it you who told me where to find her, how to woo her parents, and where the house party was to be held? I don't imagine you were trying to set up a love connection between us, either. You knew I needed money for my debts just as much as Lady Isabella needs my future title. It's all money and figures, after all. Love and affection have nothing to do with it."

"Perhaps for you," Amelia retorted sharply, "but Lady Isabella might not feel the same way. She may be willing to set aside the possibility of being a duchess for a chance at love."

"If it is love she wants, it is love I shall give her," Lord Ramsgate said, waving his hand dismissively. "You speak as though Mr. Lyndon is the only one capable of wooing a lady. Did you not watch me at the house party? I was full of compliments, affection, and romance. I hung on her every word."

Amelia pursed her lips. "And yet, if you speak to her too late, it will all be for naught. You must settle matters now with Lady Isabella. Find a way to speak to her before Miss Lyndon's wedding. You must make a proposal if you are to keep her out of Mr. Lyndon's arms."

Lord Ramsgate narrowed his eyes. "All along, you've been eager to see me successful with Lady Isabella," he said slowly. "Why is that? You are not known for your kind heart, Lady O'Mara."

Amelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. You're only now asking me this? How could my interest have seemed anything but suspicious until now? She was not working with a partner worthy of her conniving intellect, but that was nothing new. She forced a smile. "I have my reasons," she said. "I do not feel it necessary to reveal them to you."

Her companion was more dogged than usual. "You are intensely interested in Lady Isabella, to be sure, but you did not appear at my chambers unannounced with urgency and schemes until Mr. Lyndon was involved. Weren't you two connected once, years ago?" He frowned. "I am afraid I have never been one to keep up with London gossip."

It was a bold-faced lie. Lord Ramsgate knew more about London scandal than almost anyone. He was pretending ignorance to bait her into a response.

Amelia stood to go. "I am a friend who wishes to help you, Lord Ramsgate. You had best listen to my advice. I can see that you are on a path to ruin your life and your future, so I come to you with an alternative—propose to Lady Isabella before the week is out and secure the hand of a woman whose father can bail you out of all your debts."

"And your interests…?"

"My interests are my own," she snapped. "As they have always been."

She turned and left before he could question her more about her own desires in all of this. Every time he said Simon's name she wanted to fly at him in a rage. She was cleverer by far than the oaf of a man she left behind in the flat.

She had snared Lord Ramsgate into helping her distract Lady Isabella weeks before—first with honeyed words, then with subtle implication that she knew his debtors and could see his life turned upside down if he did not aid her.

Lord Ramsgate had been unperturbed with her control, apparently familiar with people holding his gambling vice over his head for profit. In fact, he had, until today, been easy enough to lead in the matter of Lady Isabella's courtship.

He seemed to find her pretty, something that Amelia did not understand, and liked the idea of Lord Collingwood's money. Today's insolence was likely the result of his hangover and her sudden appearance. She would forgive him it, for now. But she would not forget. Lord Ramsgate had a role to play, and if he did not execute his part well Amelia would be forced to take matters into her own hands.