Martha Schroeder (9 page)

Oh, God, he thought, she couldn’t even talk to him. He had ruined everything by his precipitous actions. She might forgive him, overlook his presumption in thinking he could hold her in his arms even for a moment, but she could no longer be easy in his company.

Gideon felt as if he had been kicked in the heart. He had lost the most precious thing in his life, Amy’s friendship and trust, and he had no idea of how to go about winning it back. He did not believe he could lie to her successfully or he might have told her that he had merely been acting as her friend, that his embrace had been brotherly.

But it wasn’t true, and she would not believe him. Amy had always had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts. Anytime he had lied, she had known. She had never told the duke, she was too good a friend to betray his childish misbehavior. But she had known. And she would know now. He was sure of it.

“Amy, please don’t worry. There is no reason why we cannot still be friends, good friends. I should not have—I will never again—I know how you must feel—” Gideon had never felt so stupid and inadequate, not even when he had first joined the army, as green a Johnny Raw as had ever ridden in formation. If only he knew how to tell her that she needn’t worry, that he would never do anything to remind her of his feelings. No matter how he felt, he would always be her faithful knight.

“You can always depend on me, Amy. I will always be your friend.”

For some reason, this did not seem to reassure her. Her full lower lip trembled, and her large blue eyes seemed to be even more troubled.

“I know you will, and I am grateful for that.” Her voice sounded dejected, but she smiled bravely up at him.

“We can forget all about this morning and be comfortable with each other.” Gideon’s voice sounded false to his own ears, and he knew Amy could hear it as well. “As the old friends we are.”

“Yes. Of course.” Amy seemed to withdraw into herself for a moment. Then she squared her shoulders, gave Gideon a dazzling smile, which somehow did not reach her eyes, and turned away from him.

As if conjured up by some evil fairy, Percival Sturdevant appeared in front of her, smiling like the village half-wit. Gideon could feel his eyebrows draw together in a frown. Sturdevant greeted him with a certain wary cordiality, as if Gideon were Amelia’s elderly guardian who needed to be placated before Sturdevant could carry the lady off to eat an ice and flirt with him.

Gideon felt at least a thousand years old as he nodded grimly to Sturdevant and watched him offer Amy his arm and stroll away with her. Gideon looked after them with a hopeless ache in his heart. This was only the beginning of his suffering, he knew. Despite the fact that he had been wounded in battle, this pain was far more difficult to bear because he knew it would continue unabated for years.

“She does not really care for him, you know.” Jane spoke from just behind him, and Gideon turned to look into her sympathetic face. “Or indeed for any of them.”

“Perhaps there is no one yet,” he responded, “but there will be. Despite what she thinks now, Amelia will marry.”

“Yes, I agree with you. She needs love, children, a family.”

“Then, why do you encourage her to think that foundling homes and female emancipation will take their place?” Gideon wasn’t angry. He genuinely wanted to know.

“I do not encourage her” was Jane’s surprising reply. “She came to me after having read one of my articles. It is her decision entirely, and I am not sure why she feels so strongly about it. Though one could hazard a guess, of course.”

“Of course.” Gideon had scarcely looked at Jane. His attention was focused on Amy—a slender figure in silver-spangled silk whose progress through the crowded room had been slowed by all the people—all the young men—who wanted to talk to her. “I imagine it is because she believes the duke would want her to follow in his footsteps. Though I know he wanted her to marry.”

“He told you so?” Jane sounded surprised, and Gideon spared a look for her.

“Yes. He told me that he trusted that he could depend on me to make sure that she did not fall prey to some fortune hunter, but that she nevertheless must marry.” Gideon bit off the rest of that memory.

“I think she must,” Jane said.

“I thought you did not approve of marriage.” Sir Richard, who had listened in uncharacteristic silence thus far, at last joined the conversation. His voice was sharp, and he fixed Jane with a keen gaze.

Startled, she looked at him through narrowed eyes, as if trying to divine his thoughts. “I do not disapprove of marriage. For some women it is an ideal life, a noble calling. I simply do not regard it as universally so.”

“And for Amy it would be a noble calling?” He moved closer, his dark blond head bent toward her chestnut one.

Jane held her ground. “I believe so. She is clearly cut out to be a mother. The young ones adore her.” She smiled a little.

“But for you, it would be slavery?” The hazel eyes stared un-smilingly down into hers.

Gideon decided Jane deserved rescue. “You are beginning to sound like a barrister in full cry, sir. This is supposed to be a social occasion, after all.” He tried a slight social smile to soften his words. Clearly, it did not have the desired effect.

Sir Richard turned to him, his eyes glacial. “So it is. I suppose we have been standing here conversing among ourselves so long we must be perceived as unsociable if not downright rude. Very well.” He extended his arm to Jane. “Miss Forrester, will you take a turn about the room?” He looked around at the crowd, which had grown even more dense since they had been talking. “If we can make our way through this throng. So long as we do not attempt to approach any food or drink, I think we will return unscathed.”

“Very well.” Jane laid her hand on Sir Richard’s arm with a wary look and, Gideon thought, very much the air of one who is about to walk unarmed through countryside that looked peaceful but was known to be infested with snipers.

“Good. We can continue to discuss your reasons for believing that Lady Amelia may safely risk what would be your undoing.” With that opening gambit he led her away, leaving Gideon alone once again.

Not for long, however. Apparently what had to be avoided in a ballroom, where an ineligible man might cozen his way to a waltz, was regarded as unexceptionable at a rout. Several giggling young ladies managed to engage him in desultory conversation for a few minutes—until a watchful mama came up and swept them out of harm’s way.

Circulating throughout a room that was growing progressively hotter and more crowded held little charm for Gideon, but he felt he had to find Amelia. He recognized that his reason for seeking her was not altruistic. Now that he had admitted his feelings for her to himself, it was obvious that his solicitude had masked a fierce, possessive love. Letting go of the mask, if only in his thoughts, was liberating. He breathed a little easier, knowing why he sought her out.

At last he located her, talking with several gentlemen. Her expression was earnest, and she was clearly trying to interest them in some serious topic. They, on the other hand, were vying with each other to entertain her in the only way Society understood—complimenting her on her beauty, her exquisite taste, her charm. Gideon couldn’t hear a word of their conversation of course, but he knew what they were saying. He could tell by the fatuous smiles and subtle jockeying for position next to her. He shook his head. Did they know nothing of Lady Amelia Bradshaw? They must have failed to study their quarry—a fatal mistake as any military man could tell them. Anyone who thought she would rather discuss the size and clarity of her eyes than the size and direction of her charitable activities clearly did not know her. Fools!

He quickened his step and ended standing before her at a parade-rest stance, his hands behind his back and his brows drawn together in a frown. Several of her attendant lords backed away, loath to engage this farouche-looking gentleman in any kind of discussion whatsoever.

“Are you ready to leave, Amelia?” he said, his voice harsh and his use of her Christian name deliberately provocative.

“No, I shall wait until Jane is bored.” Amelia’s eyes were stormy. She knew what he was doing, but misunderstood completely his reasons, Gideon realized suddenly. “I do not wish to leave now.” The words were deliberately dismissive. “Thank you, Captain,” she added carelessly.

Jane and Sir Richard appeared at that moment. They did not appear to be any happier than Amy and Gideon. Jane looked as if a quarrel was well underway, and Sir Richard’s bland smile did not quite disguise his anger. Amy quickly made her smiling excuses to the group and departed with Jane, leaving two angry and frustrated men behind them.

Chapter Seven

Eustace appeared at Jane’s house again the next morning. This time he tried to buy
Molly’s absence with a penny for a sweet, but that young lady was staunch in her chosen job and scornfully refused the coin. He seemed to Amelia to be even more frantic than before. He threw himself on his knees in front of her and grasped her hands in his feverish ones.

“You must marry me, Amelia,” he gasped. “You must!”

“I am sorry, Eustace,” she said, her patience strained to the utmost. “You know my answer. I cannot marry you.”

“You
can,
you know you can. There is no impediment. We are only second cousins. And since you can, you must help me, for you are the only one who can,” he added with the supreme self-concern that was typical of him.

Angrily Amelia pulled her hands away and tried to distance herself. But Eustace refused to let her go. He clutched at her skirt and repeated that she had to marry him. In another minute Amelia might well have struck him. She was a duke’s daughter, and she was not used to anyone’s laying importunate hands upon her. Even her father had never done so. That Eustace should dare—

She opened her mouth to deliver a blistering set-down when Jane swept into the room. Taking in the scene at a glance, she advised Eustace to get to his feet and stop making a cake of himself. Faced with such cool common sense, Eustace did so, but he looked as though he longed to throttle her

“Do not refuse me, Amelia,” he said, his eyes showing white all around like those of a frightened horse. “You will be sorry if you do.”

Is he threatening me? she wondered. She looked at his weak face and dandified clothes, and dismissed the idea.

“I try and try to tell you that I have no desire to be a duchess, Eustace. I know firsthand what such a role demands, and I do not have any wish for it.”

Eustace gave Amelia a look of such loathing that she instinctively recoiled. Then without another word, he turned on his heel and left the house. Amelia crossed her arms protectively and asked herself if that had been a serious threat. He had looked angry enough to do murder.

“He frightens me,” she said to Jane. “His insistence that only I will do as his bride—it’s not quite normal, Jane.”

“Nonsense. Like every other male he does not want to take no as his answer,” her friend replied. “You must simply treat him as the child he is and continue to say no quietly and firmly. He will understand eventually.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you are that is all it is.” Amelia shook her head. “No matter. He is gone, and there is very little he can do in the face of my refusal. I have control of my money, so he cannot persuade a trustee or a father to marry me off.”

She frowned. Something about that idea gave her pause, and she began to turn it over in her mind, searching for the elusive thought. Before she could get far, however, Molly came in to tell her that she was needed in the schoolroom. Amelia dismissed everything but teaching from her mind, and left the room.

* * * *

Later that day Sir Richard was ushered into the parlor, where he stood, impatiently tapping his foot, as he waited for Lady Amelia to come down. He had promised Gideon that he would try to talk her into leaving town for the holidays. Why in the world he had taken it upon himself to give advice to the self-assured duke’s daughter he could not say.

Jane Forrester entered, and Sir Richard suddenly had a very clear idea of why he had come. This afternoon she was wearing a simple gray dress with a white collar and cuffs, her bright chestnut hair braided and coiled into a chignon pinned at the back of her neck. The contrast with her appearance at the rout made him all too aware of how inappropriate she was as an object of his interest.

“Miss Forrester.” He bowed, unsmiling over her hand. “I had hoped to see Lady Amelia.”

“She has taken some of the children out for a walk. If you care to wait, they should be back in a short while.” Jane’s face never lost its expression of polite interest. Yesterday evening, with its sharp exchanges and undercurrents of attraction and admiration, might never have happened. Here was the old, guarded, no-nonsense Jane, who never trusted any man, certainly not one who set off fine tremors in her arm when he touched it.

Sir Richard was an old hand at the game of dalliance. He knew when he affected a woman the way he had Jane Forrester. The way she had affected him. He stared at her, this totally inappropriate woman, and resolved to put distance between them, starting now.

“I have come at Captain Falconer’s request. He is most desirous that Lady Amelia quit the city and go to stay with one of her friends. Apparently she refuses to consider it.” He could feel his face assume its habitual expression of bored hauteur. “Perhaps you, as her closest friend, you may persuade her to change her mind.”

“Why should I?” Jane spoke carelessly and shrugged her shoulders. “She is doing important work here with the children. I see no reason why Eustace and his strange fits and starts should govern Amelia’s movements.”

“Because Gideon Falconer, an experienced soldier, believes that the Duke of Doncaster is a danger to Lady Amelia. Surely that should take precedence over the temporary needs of a pack of urchins.”

Jane drew her shoulders back and pulled herself up to her full height. Sir Richard could feel his breath catch in his throat. The woman’s figure was nothing short of incredible! He had to pull his eyes away from her bosom or be frozen forever. The only way was to leave before he either shook Jane Forrester until her teeth rattled or kissed her senseless.