Authors: Amanda Weaver
Amelia took one look at the gleam in Lady Evelyn’s eyes and thought it was probably in Nate’s best interest to stay as far away from this house party as he could manage. But Lady Julia spoke up again.
“Yes, please do convince him we’re hoping for his attendance.”
She couldn’t read anything in Julia’s expression. No one could ever read anything in Julia Harrow’s expression. But she sounded almost...hopeful. The way she and Nate had chatted earlier in the evening, it seemed possible the impenetrable Lady Julia Harrow might be penetrated at last—by Nate. The thought made her physically ill. But then again, she’d brushed aside what had happened between them, insisting it didn’t matter. It
couldn’t
matter. He had every right to pursue his own interests. Even if his interest was the lovely, enigmatic Lady Julia.
“I’ll speak to him.” The words felt like broken glass in her throat.
“Wonderful!” Lady Evelyn enthused. “We’ll see you and your father in Kent, then? Oh, will your dear mother be able to come?”
If Amelia had forgotten for one moment what she was about, that question dragged her firmly back to earth. There was a reason for Radwill and her urgency. There was a goal to achieve at this ridiculous house party. Mama might be dying.
“No, I’m afraid my mother is too ill at present to travel.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lady Julia murmured, sounding truly sincere. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amelia had a vague recollection that Lady Julia’s mother had died when she was quite young. Whatever her interest in Lady Evelyn’s schemes or in Nate, she was probably genuine regarding Amelia’s mother, which made it rather difficult to dislike her.
“She’ll be happy to see me having an adventure.”
“What a good time we’ll have!” Lady Evelyn enthused. Amelia very seriously doubted it. At the best, she’d be bored out of her mind making small talk and engaging in “activities” with a lot of Society misses and brash young men. At the worst, she’d been asked as a joke and that would be made clear in short order.
* * *
She found Nate on the other side of the ballroom, lurking near the punch bowl almost as if he was hiding. When he saw her weaving through the crowd to get to him, he looked positively stricken.
“Oh, relax,” she snapped when she reached him. “I haven’t come to publicly denounce you as a debauched lecher, or whatever it is you’re imagining.”
Nate’s shoulders lowered infinitesimally.
“I’ve come to tell you you’re attending a house party.”
“Pardon?”
“Lady Evelyn’s house party? She told me she’d invited you.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Well, nothing. You’re coming.”
“I hadn’t planned on—”
“Neither had I, but there you go. I’m off to bloody Kent and so are you.”
“I run a company. I can’t just hie off to Kent because—”
“Julia Harrow will be there.” She hated saying it, hated dangling her like a prize before him. She hated even more that it made him stop and consider. Rolling her eyes to cover the awful sting of it, she pressed on. “And she asked me to make sure you attend.”
“She asked you about me?”
Her heart gave one solid, brutal thump. “I think she did. She was a bit unassertive about it. It’s sometimes hard to tell what she wants.”
“Napoleon would seem unassertive in comparison to you.”
“I feel there’s an insult in there somewhere.”
“Just an observation.”
“Hmm. Well, Lady Julia expressed some interest in your presence. I can’t imagine why. So you might as well come.”
“Will Lady Julia’s father be there?”
“What does it matter?”
Nate shrugged, unconvincingly casual. “It doesn’t. Are you going?”
“Of course.”
“Pardon my saying, but you and Lady Evelyn don’t seem the best of friends. This doesn’t seem quite your thing.”
“It’s as much mine as yours. And that’s beside the point. Lord Radwill will be there.”
Nate’s eyes met hers, and in an instant, she was back on the terrace, caught in that storm of electricity with him. His gaze flickered to her lips and back to her eyes, as if the moment had come roaring back to him, as well. Lord, how she wished they were anywhere but this cursed ballroom.
“It’s like that, is it?” he said.
“I... Of course.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled up in a near-malicious smirk. “Well, it would be a shame to disappoint Lady Julia.”
“To be sure.” Amelia ground her teeth together in frustration.
“Then I’ll see you in Kent?”
“Indeed you will.”
Chapter Five
The day after Lady Longville’s rather enlightening musical entertainment, Genevieve came to call, as promised. Genevieve’s services had ended when Amelia was launched into Society, but they’d remained close and Genevieve visited as frequently as her schedule allowed.
“Thank heaven you’ve come, Gen.”
“You seemed quite well when I left you last night. What’s happened? Was Madame Fortunato that bad?” Genevieve asked, leaning in to kiss Amelia’s cheek before settling on the sofa next to her.
“Of course she was. But I’ve lived through enough boring concerts to manage it just fine. It was everything else. Tea?”
“Oh dear,” Genevieve said with a sigh. “Is there much damage to manage today? Tell me you didn’t have words with Lady Leath.”
“Nothing like that. I didn’t see her again after you pointed her out. I believe she left.” Amelia handed her a cup and saucer.
“What was it, then?”
Amelia slanted a look at Genevieve from under her lashes. There was no way she could tell Gen
everything
that happened, but she could share a bit of it. “I saw Nate there.”
“Nate?”
“Nathaniel Smythe. Do you remember my telling you about him?”
“Oh...the boy you grew up with in Portsmouth?”
“That’s him.”
“What on earth was he doing at Lady Longville’s?”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I saw him at the Miltons’ ball, too. You should see him now, Gen. You’d never know he was the boy I knew in Portsmouth. He’s every inch the gentleman now, his clothes, his manners, even his speech.”
“It sounds like he’s risen quite high in the world. How did he manage it?”
Amelia waved her hand dismissively. “Something about shipping. He has a boat, or rather a ship. Several ships, he said.”
“He
owns
these ships? I thought you said he was a sailor.”
“He was. He went to sea as a deckhand right before we left Portsmouth. His captain took an interest in him and left him his ships when he died. He’s gotten many more since then, he said. It is rather remarkable, what he’s achieved. He’s so young, too. Only twenty-five.”
“What a staggering accomplishment. I think I should look into this young man.”
Genevieve made it her business to know everything there was to know about everyone notable in London Society. It was her stock-in-trade, after all. Knowing how deeply in debt a certain ducal heir was let her know how willing he might be to court whichever heiress she might be grooming at the moment. For Genevieve, knowledge was power.
“Oh, please, leave him be, Gen. He made it quite clear he’s nothing to me now.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seemed happy to see me at first. As happy as I was to see him. But he was quite cold to me after that. He was friendlier last night, but he doesn’t seem at all inclined rekindle our old friendship.” Amelia left out the kiss, which she didn’t see as lying, precisely. Kissing wasn’t friendship.
“Well, you’re not children anymore. A friendship of that kind now would be entirely inappropriate.”
“Natty never gave a fig about propriety.”
“Maybe not when he was a poor sailor’s son. It’s clear he’s elevated himself in the world and has begun to act accordingly.”
“Well, he’s become a dreadful bore. He was much more fun when we were children.”
“You’ve grown up, too, Amelia.”
“I suppose you’re right. I was so glad to see him. I’ve missed him...far more than I’d realized. I just wish—”
Genevieve reached for her hand. “My advice is to put him from your mind. He’s not the sort of gentleman your father would approve of.”
“That’s for certain. Father looks as if he’s smelled something bad when he has to speak with him, which is funny. Nate has done exactly what Papa did. You’d think he’d admire him for it.”
“He might admire the man, but disapprove of him for his daughter. You’re going to marry a title, Amelia. Mr. Smythe doesn’t have one of those.”
“Lord Sturridge, if Father has anything to say about it,” she said with a dramatic shudder.
“Oh, he would be bad luck. The teeth are most unfortunate, never mind he’s got one foot in the grave. You need to forget about this childhood acquaintance. He’s nothing to you now. There is serious business to see to. We need to secure you an appropriate spouse, one you can look at without feeling nauseous.”
“Father also rounded up Mr. Cheadle last night.”
Gen frowned. “Also unpleasant. His recent history is a bit murky as well, which is never a good sign in a nobleman in debt. No telling what he’s been up to. Did you manage to speak with Radwill last night?”
“I did. He remembers me, so that’s promising.”
“You’ll have to be quite charming to secure him, I think.”
She sighed, remembering her perfectly ordinary, perfectly boring conversation with Radwill from the night before. Pleasant enough, but not the least bit interesting. “I’m still not sure I want to secure him.”
“Of course you do. He’s quite a good option, darling. I’ve heard no negative reports of his character and habits. He’s a bit shallow in the pockets, but not a fortune hunter like Sturridge and Cheadle. If a man chooses to marry you of his own free will, because he likes you, isn’t it better than Victoria’s situation, married to a man forced to do it because he faced ruin? You see where that’s gotten her.”
“You have a point.”
“Amelia, your father will arrange a marriage for you if you don’t settle one for yourself, and you’ve seen who he’s turned up. If you don’t want to be saddled with Sturridge or Cheadle, you need to exert yourself with Radwill.”
“I wish I didn’t have to marry at all, if I must do it in this rational, scheming way.”
“Darling—”
“I know, I know. I have to do it. But can you imagine if I was free to do what I want? Maybe I’d run away to Spain. Or America! How I’d love to see America.”
“Perhaps you can visit on your wedding journey.”
“Who wants to see a place from a fancy train car or a carriage? I want to swim in the ocean, or climb a mountain or—”
“It all sounds thrilling, Amelia, but not very realistic. The Season is nearly over. People are leaving London in droves. There might not be many more opportunities to encounter Radwill socially. You need to move quickly.”
“I might have a solution there. Last night Lady Evelyn Sanbourne invited me to a house party at Tewsmere in September. Radwill’s been invited, too.”
Gen brightened. “A house party is perfect! If you apply yourself, you can have the whole thing stitched up by the end of the week. Who else will be there?”
“Lady Evelyn said it’s mostly her father’s cronies from Parliament, but she’s invited some young people, too. She mentioned Robert Ponsoy, which probably means his wretched sister, Kitty, will be there, as well.”
“Do try not to threaten her with violence this time.”
“As long as she doesn’t provoke me.”
“Amelia...”
“I promise! Evelyn also mentioned William Thistlethwaite and Tony Batchelder. You know, those Cambridge boys.”
Genevieve made a low sound of disapproval. “Watch your step around Tony Batchelder. That young man is trouble.”
Amelia sat up straighter. This sounded interesting. “What do you mean? Have you heard something?”
Genevieve leaned in and whispered it in Amelia’s ear. Amelia gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m only telling you so you can steer clear of him. It shouldn’t be a problem if you’re otherwise occupied with Lord Radwill. Did she mention any young ladies in attendance besides Kitty?”
“Lady Julia Harrow will be there. She was with Evelyn when she invited me.”
“Oh, I always forget about her. But she’s pretty, and the daughter of an earl. Do you suppose she might set her cap at Radwill?”
Amelia shifted in discomfort. “No, I believe her interests lie elsewhere. She asked me very specifically to appeal to Nate to come.”
“Mr. Smythe has been invited? Singular.”
“He’s been invited on Lady Julia’s behalf, like I told you.”
Genevieve fixed her with a steady stare. “Be careful around him, too, Amelia.”
She scoffed. “Surely you don’t know any of Nate’s deep, dark secrets.”
“No, but I know yours. I know you often lead with your heart, not your head. Don’t let yourself be distracted by your old friend. This is too important.”
Amelia took a deep breath and prepared to assure Genevieve the way she’d assured everyone else. “I know what’s expected of me and I intend to accomplish it.”
Chapter Six
September
,
1896
Amelia drew her shoulders back, perfecting her posture as she’d been taught, before rapping lightly on her mother’s door. Today was the first day of what promised to be a very long week. Time to gird herself for the battle.
“Mother? The carriage has arrived to take us to the station. Are you sure you don’t feel well enough to come? We could have you packed in a moment, and catch the next train.”
Beatrice was sitting in a chair by the window reading a novel. A slight improvement over the bed. But her color was bad and she seemed devoid of strength, wrapped in a shawl and lap blanket in spite of the warm day. Amelia’s suggestion sounded patently ridiculous to her own ears. Her mother wasn’t going anywhere. Amelia swallowed down the bubble of sorrow and fear and forced a bright smile for her mother’s sake.
“Oh, no, I’m too tired to manage the train trip alone, never mind all those house party gaieties. Oh, but Amelia...” She reached out her hand and Amelia crossed the room to take it. Her fingers were ice-cold, and her grip was barely there at all. “How I remember the fun of house parties when I was your age. Promise me you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“I’m sure I will, Mama.” She very much doubted that was true, but if imagining her frolicking with a bunch of Society prigs in Kent gave her mother some comfort, she wasn’t about to dissuade her.
“Will any young men be in attendance?” her mother asked with a conspiratorial smile.
“I believe so. One or two.”
“Anyone you like in particular?”
Amelia’s thoughts went instantly and unhelpfully to Nate.
Radwill
was the point of this tedious house party. Radwill was her mission and she mustn’t forget it. “Perhaps. But there is nothing definite.”
“Oh, Amelia, if I could see you settled soon, darling...”
“I know, Mama. I do. And I will try.”
“I want to see you happy.”
What her mother wanted for her would never make her happy, but it was impossible to tell her so, not when her eyes lit up with such a hopeful gleam.
“I’m worried about leaving you here alone,” she said, to change the subject.
“Oh, I’m not alone. I have Mrs. Wickett and Constance,” Beatrice said with a dismissive wave, referring to their trustworthy head housekeeper and her lady’s maid, who acted as more of a nurse than a maid. “And Dr. Price is going to look in on me every day, just to be safe. They’ll cable your father if anything at all is amiss. The last thing I want is for you to miss out on this opportunity to stay home and fuss over me. Now go and have a good time.”
“If you’re sure...”
“Positive.” She tucked a wayward curl behind Amelia’s ear. Amelia’s curls always seemed to be wayward. “Now off with you. Write and tell me all about your adventures.”
“I promise I’ll tell you everything interesting.”
Even if I have to make it up
, she amended silently.
“Amelia, they’ve finished loading the trunks,” her father said from the doorway. She rose to leave, giving her father a private moment to say goodbye to her mother. As she reached the door, she glanced back. He’d lowered himself to one knee, no easy feat with his old injury. He was holding her mother’s hands in his and smiling into her face with a look of tenderness only her mother seemed to raise in him. For all his faults, he did love her so. He might be heavy-handed with Amelia on the subject of marriage, but in the end, that was for her mother’s sake. Amelia’s titled match was something he knew would please her.
In all other ways, he’d been rather liberal with Amelia. She’d had a first-rate education and he’d spent a fortune on her finishing with Genevieve. He never quibbled with her over money for new dresses or books or anything else she wanted. He’d made it clear that, upon her marriage, he’d settle a vast sum on her and buy her a town house in London. Truly, she was a most fortunate young woman. All they asked of her was this one thing. It was the least she could do to fulfill their wishes, and give her mother the one thing she wanted, before it was too late.
* * *
Tewsmere, ancestral home of the Earl of Tewsbury, was half a day’s journey by train from London, somewhere in the hinterlands of Kent. Amelia had stopped paying attention when the train left the station but her father remarked on every mile of their journey, finding something to admire in every rural lane and hedgerow. He saw this invitation as a mark of great honor, a sign he was finally ascending into the rarefied circle of the aristocracy. She didn’t have the heart to tell him they’d probably been invited so the young ladies could giggle at all the inappropriate things she was sure to say.
Lady Evelyn’s father, the Earl of Tewsbury, sent coaches to gather up the guests as they arrived at the train and ferry them back to the estate. Leaving Fantine and her father’s valet behind to arrange the luggage, they made their way to the group of fellow guests awaiting transport. Their little group consisted of Lord and Lady Selby, their son, Anthony Batchelder, Lord and Lady Watting, their son, Robert Ponsoy, and their daughter, the dreaded Kitty Ponsoy.
“Miss Ponsoy!” Amelia cried, just to throw her off. “How lovely to see you again!”
Kitty scanned her from head to toe in an examination that verged on rude. “Miss Wheeler. I’d forgotten you were coming. How amusing this shall be.”
There it was: confirmation Evelyn and her crowd expected Amelia to be the sport of this party. She’d be damned if she’d give them the satisfaction. These silly Society girls never learned. Not one of them was a match for a Portsmouth street urchin when it came to making mischief.
“It’s a lovely day for traveling,” Amelia observed.
“Indeed. You were smart to wear something so serviceable, Miss Wheeler. I’m afraid my new French traveling suit will be quite crushed after the trip.” Kitty preened, stroking her sea-foam-green skirt, heavily trimmed with braid. Amelia looked her over. Aside from being a rather cheap copy of a Paris original, it didn’t suit her at all. The enormous puffed sleeves of her jacket were larger than her head. She looked as if she was being devoured by a green wool sea monster.
Choosing to let the insult slide, she gave Kitty a serene smile, not even a hint of an outrageous comment. Kitty looked very disappointed.
A footman appeared to sort them into coaches. Amelia and her father were shuttled off with the Batchelders, as the Ponsoys, all quite large save for Kitty, took up an entire carriage themselves.
Tony Batchelder dropped onto the seat next to Amelia, scarcely attempting to keep from crushing her skirts. He was a handsome young man, with an elegant face and an expressive mouth. Sleepy dark eyes framed by long lashes rendered him almost pretty. His brown wool suit was quite fine, and his yellow patterned necktie bordered on flashy. “It’s Miss Wheeler, right?” he asked, slanting a grin at her.
It was an alarmingly casual introduction, bordering on rude, but Amelia rather preferred it to the malice thinly veneered with friendship she faced from the young ladies of the party.
“Yes, Amelia Wheeler. It’s Mr. Batchelder, isn’t it?”
He swept a heavy lock of silky brown hair off his forehead, only for it to fall forward again. The effect was rather poetic, as she suspected he intended. “Lord, no ‘mister.’ It’s Anthony. Or better still, Tony. After all, we’re all about to be cooped up in the ancient Tewsbury manse together for a week. Might as well get friendly.”
“If you say so.”
“Do attempt to behave, Anthony,” Lord Selby sighed as he settled in across from his youngest son. He was in his late fifties, but still an imposing, good-looking man, with distinguished silver hair and heavy sideburns. “There may not be much expected of the youngest son, but one does hope for basic civility.”
“Oh, come on, Pater, it’s meant to be a festive event, not another dreary session in the House of Lords. I declare that we shall get up to no good for the whole of this house party. Are you game, Miss Wheeler?”
Lady Selby, Lord Selby’s much younger, very pretty second wife, sighed. “Anthony, please.”
Tony threw his stepmother a wicked smile. “Oh, come now,
Mother
, I’m only having a bit of fun. Don’t let Father’s starch rub off on you.” She grew flustered and dropped her eyes to her lap.
“Anthony...” Lord Selby warned.
Gen was right about this young man. He was trouble. “I’m sure there will be plenty of amusement for everyone,” Amelia replied, trying to offset the tension.
“And if Evelyn doesn’t supply it, I will. I’m always good for a laugh.”
“And not much else,” his father muttered under his breath.
Tony threw his head back and laughed.
Mr. Wheeler cleared his throat and leaned across Amelia to address Lord and Lady Selby. “Lord Selby, was your train ride enjoyable?”
Tony smirked at Amelia but when Lady Selby began to offer her opinions of the deplorable state of the British rail system, he grew bored and fell asleep. Amelia chose to stare out the window and leave their parents to their tedious conversation. Ten minutes in and she already wanted to flee. This would be a very long week.
* * *
Tewsmere dated to the eighteenth century and was spacious and elegant. It sat on a hill, which made for a lovely approach from the road. The house’s spare, classical proportions settled perfectly in the early autumn hillside framing it. A wide, sweeping gravel drive fronted the house and by the time their carriage came to a stop, Lady Evelyn and her mother and father, Lord and Lady Tewsbury, were waiting under the portico to greet them.
The Ponsoys’ carriage was already there, discharging Lord and Lady Watting, Robert and Kitty out onto the gravel drive.
Kitty flung herself into Evelyn’s arms with a squeal and a flurry of ruffles. Their effusive reunion took many minutes. Lord and Lady Tewsbury greeted each guest as they reached the portico in a blustering, genial way that made Amelia think they weren’t quite sure who their daughter had invited.
“Lord Tewsbury,” her father enthused as he shook the viscount’s hand. “We are honored to be here.”
Lord Tewsbury looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Well, well, yes... Welcome to Tewsmere. Do make yourselves at home.”
The man had scarcely any idea who they were. And why should he? Her father might have loads of money but in the end he was a Portsmouth factory owner and Lord Tewsbury was an earl. Every person at this house party was likely titled in some way. All the men sat in the House of Lords with the earl. They most decidedly did not belong.
When the earl turned to her, Amelia refused to be cowed, channeling every lesson Genevieve had ever given her, and dropping into a perfect curtsy. “We’re delighted you asked us to visit, Lord Tewsbury.”
He smiled benignly at her. “Yes, yes, come in and have some refreshments. Evelyn, come and greet the rest of the guests, my girl.”
“Oh! Do forgive my abominable rudeness,” she laughed. “Kitty does distract me so.” They exchanged a look and burst into giggles.
Lady Evelyn made her round of greetings and when she got to Amelia, she hooked her arm through Amelia’s and began to propel her into the house. “Thank heavens you’ve come, Miss Wheeler. May I call you Amelia? We’re all sure to be the closest of friends by the end of the house party, aren’t we?”
“Oh, not too close, I hope. Wouldn’t want to get stuck that way.”
Lady Evelyn let out a high peal of laughter. “Oh, Amelia, you do say the funniest things. Doesn’t she, Kitty?”
“So very droll,” Kitty drawled, looking anything but amused.
“Come, Mr. Batchelder!” Evelyn commanded. “We’re desperate for a little fun inside and you’re the man to provide it.”
Tony presented her with his arm. “Enough with the ‘Mr.’ I beg you. It’s Tony, and I’m at your command, Evie.”
Evelyn’s eyes sparkled and a hint of blush raced across her cheeks as she beamed at Tony Batchelder.
“Very well, Tony. Let’s be off.”
“Lead the way, my lady.”
“Robbie,” Kitty whined, turning on her brother. “Fetch my bag out of the coach, will you? I’ve forgotten it.”
“What do I look like, Kitty, a footman? Fetch it yourself.”
“It’s the least you could do after crushing my skirts for the whole trip.”
Robert Ponsoy laughed and chucked his sister under the chin before following Tony and Evelyn inside. Kitty fumed. Amelia didn’t wait around to see who she exploded at next. She scurried after her father into the house.
A small army of servants met them in the entry hall, divesting them of coats, hats and valises. The newly arrived guests were shunted into the parlor where some earlier arrivals were already partaking of the “light refreshments” provided. A long table groaned under an impressive spread of food and drink.
Among the guests who’d arrived earlier were Lord Hyde and Lady Julia, Lord and Lady Spalding and their son, William Thistlethwaite, and—unfortunately—Mr. Cheadle. Lord Spalding and his son, Will, were cut from the same cloth, both whip-thin and extremely tall. They both fancied expensive tailoring, although the father’s suit was a great deal more conservative than his dandified son’s. Lady Spalding, in contrast, nearly disappeared next to her impressive husband and elegant son, a birdlike woman lost in an elaborate dove-gray gown.
“Amelia, this is a most impressive gathering,” her father murmured into her ear. “These young men are all from highly esteemed families. Show them your best, girl.”
Amelia thought the boys all seemed like a lot of badly behaved children looking for mischief but she didn’t say so. “I always do, Papa.”
Her squeezed her elbow before turning away and inserting himself into a conversation with Lord Spalding, standing by the fireplace. Amelia suspected she wouldn’t see him again during this party outside of mealtimes. She’d taken no more than two steps toward the refreshment table when Mr. Cheadle descended on her.
“My dear Miss Wheeler! You’ve arrived at last!”
“It’s only half past two.”
“Time seemed to have stopped as I waited.”
She rolled her eyes. “With all these fine people to talk to? It’s a wonder you even noticed my absence. Especially as we’ve only just met.” She added that last bit to remind him to observe some standards of decorum, but he missed the hint, sidling closer to her and refusing to release her hand, clutching it in both of his.