Partridge and the Peartree (3 page)

Amelia plastered on a semblance of a smile for her
brother. "Perhaps there is, Edward, but I believe Mademoiselle
Colette would be much more comfortable if I move my chair. That
will, er, give her more leg room."

Phillip popped up from his seat. "Allow me to assist
you."

Amelia started at Phillip's announcement. She hadn't
expected help. She simply wanted to watch the program without a
view of Colette and the love seat in front of her. The chair wasn't
heavy, though a bit unwieldy. But Phillip took her chair with one
hand and his own with the other, and walked ten feet to their left.
He set both chairs down then gestured for her to resume her
seat.

A flurry of activity had her turning her head and
nearly gasping with surprise. The entire audience followed
Phillip's suit, wordlessly moving their own seats approximately ten
feet to the left. The action left Colette and Edward sitting alone
on one side of the stage, and the rest of the party on the
other.

Desiree, standing on the edge of the stage, watched
the proceedings without comment, though Amelia thought she noted a
smirk on her lovely face. Laurel and Merilee, having already taken
their places on the stage, cast curious looks as they observed
their audience's migration to one side. They were young, but they
knew the significance of the action. It was as good as a cut.

As soon as the group re-settled, Desiree clapped her
hands for attention. "Dear friends, thank you for returning. The
Linden girls have some more entertainment for you. They will now
perform together the Andante movement from Mozart's
Piano for
Four Hands in D Major
."

The girls plunged into their music as if to stave off
another disruption. Amelia stole a glance to her right. Colette
lounged regally in the love seat, either blissfully unaware of — or
stubbornly unconcerned about — the discontent she had caused. But
Edward, seated in a regular chair beside her, squirmed
uncomfortably. He knew the audience had snubbed him. Hopefully he
had finally come to his senses and realized the damage his fiancée
could do to him.

She turned her attention back toward the stage.
Beside her, the tall man sat, at a respectful distance from her,
yet so close the nearness produced heat.

Perhaps she needed to wear lighter clothing.

Amelia settled her bonnet over her curls and reached
for her gloves. She didn't call for Jeanne. Getting herself dressed
for an outing, especially when the weather outside was sunny and
relatively warm, wasn't that difficult. It had always seemed a
waste of time to wait for servants to assist her with tasks she was
perfectly capable of doing on her own. Besides, if Jeanne knew she
was going out, the rest of the household would find out, and she
didn't want everyone knowing about her excursion.

She had almost reached the gate at the street when a
dreaded voice from the house halted her.

"Lady Amelia!"

She froze. Marks, the butler, was a stickler for
convention. As a woman — especially an unmarried woman — she
shouldn't leave the house unattended. But a companion would slow
her down and make it more difficult to go and do as she wished.

"Lady Amelia, Giles is ready to accompany you. Kindly
wait a moment." He didn't have to add a reprimand, though
displeasure was evident in his voice. There would be a dressing
down later on, from her brother.

Seconds later, the gangly young footman rounded the
house from the servants' entrance, hastily adjusting his hat as he
ran. He skidded to a stop a respectful three paces from Amelia and
bowed respectfully.

"Apologies, my lady, for keeping you waiting."

Amelia suppressed a sigh and resumed her walk toward
the street.

"Lady Amelia, please allow me to carry your satchel
for you."

She paused. The satchel wasn't especially heavy, but
it was large and awkward.

"Thank you, Giles," she said as she handed the bag to
him. "But you must let me take it myself into the, er,
establishment where we are going."

The young man frowned but nodded.

Amelia led the way, plotting as she went. Though she
usually took time to observe the changing of the seasons, today her
mind focused on one thing: how to get rid of Giles. The young
footman was relatively inexperienced, so it should be easy to dupe
him.

She took a circular route, hoping to lull her
companion into thinking she was merely out for a stroll. Pausing at
a popular milliner's, she made a show of looking in the window then
turned to the young footman.

"I think I'll go in here for a while. I need a new
hat. I'll take the satchel now. You may wait for me out here."

Giles bowed his acquiescence and handed the satchel
to her. She hoped he wouldn't question her need for a satchel in
the milliner's shop, and like a good servant, he didn't. At least
not aloud.

She carried the satchel into the shop. Madame
LeFevre, the proprietor, rose to greet her potential customer.

"
Bon jour
,
mademoiselle
."

"
Bon jour
, Madame LeFevre. I wish to place an
order for a hat. Er, something to go with my new winter cloak."

"
Oui
,
mademoiselle
. Ze new cloak, it is
in your bag?"

"My bag? Oh, no. I, er, forgot to bring it along. But
it's... blue."

"Blue is an excellent color for you,
mademoiselle
. What shade of blue?"

"Ah, it's…a deep blue. Rather like—" She cast a quick
glance around the shop, and her eyes caught a bright, peacock blue
felt hat. "That one."

Madame blinked, obviously swallowing her distaste.
"
Oui
,
mademoiselle
. Ze entire cloak is that
color?"

"Perhaps I should return another day and bring the
cloak with me. Forgive me for wasting your time this morning. I'll
just get going." She strode toward the back of the shop.

"Er,
mademoiselle
? Ze door is this way."

"Yes, but my next errand is on the street behind your
shop. If you don't mind, I'll just use your side entrance to get
there more quickly. Thank you for your time." She scooted out the
door, mindful of the lady's stare. She probably wouldn't be back,
at least not this season. But she'd accomplished her goal and left
Giles waiting at the front entrance. Hopefully, she'd have her
errand completed by the time he realized her duplicity.

The side entrance of the shop emptied on a quiet
street. No traffic here, but Amelia cast a cautious look about her
before proceeding. She had an important errand, and nothing was to
be gained by dawdling.

With renewed purpose, she marched toward her
destination. She arrived at the offices of Culpepper and Winston
Publishing without incident and presented herself for her
appointment.

Phineas Culpepper looked up from his ledger at
Amelia's entrance. "Prompt, as always, Lady Amelia."

"Of course, Mr. Culpepper. I've brought the edited
manuscript, as you requested." Reaching in her borrowed satchel,
she removed the bulky package and handed it to the editor. "I trust
the revisions I've made will be suitable for your markets."

"I'm certain they will be. You're an excellent
writer, as I'm sure you've been told."

She hadn't been told that. No one but the editor knew
of her double life, but that was all right with her. She was able
to get much more fodder for her stories when people didn't think
their dirty laundry would be featured in a book.

Mr. Culpepper opened his desk, pulled out a thick
envelope, and handed it to her. "Here are your earnings for the
past month. Your romance stories are so popular I have my printer
working six days a week now."

Amelia took the envelope and hefted it to gauge its
weight. Her eyebrows rose and she drew a quick inward breath. "I
had no idea my stories were this successful."

Mr. Culpepper chuckled. "Thanks to you, I may be soon
able to move my operations to a more respectable area of the city."
He paused and studied her over the rim of his spectacles. "You did
bring someone with you this time, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes," she reassured him. "He is waiting for me
at the door."

She wasn't actually lying, she told herself. Giles
truly was waiting for her at the door. Just not at the door to
Culpepper and Winston.

Stepping out on to the street, Amelia walked with a
light step toward the millinery. Her mind whirled with the impact
of the news Mr. Jones had given her. With the income from writing,
she could afford to live on her own. Edward had agreed to set her
up in a small house on the outskirts of London, with a minimal
household staff, but she would need her own money.

She could just imagine what would happen if her staid
and proper brother heard of her secret career as a writer. Even
though Edward was six years her junior, he acted more like he was
sixteen years older. Perhaps having had to take over the title at
the tender age of twenty had soured him. Whatever the reason, he'd
taken his duty seriously, and in turn he expected all in his
household to behave properly. It was well known that not a hint of
scandal had ever been associated with the House of Partridge. Now
everyone – including Amelia – wondered why he had he aligned
himself with a flamboyant and unpleasant woman like Colette.

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice a trio of
street urchins loitering nearby. A silent nod from the tallest one
had them following Amelia, who suddenly found herself surrounded.
Her hands instinctively lifted to her chest, and she clutched her
reticule and satchel closely.

"Beggin' the lady's pardon, but methinks ye might
'ave a spare coin 'r two in that little bag 'o yers. Ye wouldn't
want ter see the loiks of us starvin' now, would ye?"

Amelia schooled her features into a calm she didn't
feel. "Kindly let me pass, please."

The leader tipped his head back and howled. "As soon
as ye 'kindly' give us yer coins, we'll 'kindly' let ye pass!"

"You boys will need to find a more honest method of
getting your money," she told them. "Otherwise I shall have to seek
assistance from that constable over on the next corner."

The younger boys started to back away, but their
leader was undeterred. "There's no officer on the next corner. Yer
jus' tryin' ter distract me so's I'd look away and you kin scoot
off."

Amelia searched her brain for a way to escape, but a
deep, masculine voice stopped them all.

"Leave the lady alone."

Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.
The duke!
But the ringleader was undeterred. "And 'oo're ye to threaten me,
mister? It's one a' ye aginst three."

"On the contrary, there are two of us. And the lady
was correct, there is a constable on the next street." At the
second male voice, the two younger urchins disappeared, and the
leader found himself facing Phillip and his valet alone. The lad's
bravado faded, but only for a moment. Raising his cap, he executed
an exaggerated bow and gave her a cheeky grin.

"Beggin' yer pardon, miss, I didn't know ye were
travelin' under the gentleman's protection. I'll be off now," he
said. And he scooted back into the shadows.

Amelia let out the breath she'd been holding. Wanting
to thank her rescuers, she turned and stared into a pair of
familiar blue eyes. Her lips curved into a rueful grin.

"It seems you are forever coming to my aid, Your
Grace."

Phillip's attention was focused on the young
hooligans, and he didn't answer. When he finally returned his
attention to her, his expression was serious, and she expected a
lecture about being in such a neighborhood.

"Did they harm you in any way?"

"No, Your Grace. Your arrival was quite timely.
Please accept my deepest gratitude."

"It was nothing. Robert and I had just left my
solicitor's office. Allow us to escort you to…your
destination."

"My footman is waiting at the milliner's shop, not
two streets away."

Phillip frowned, but he offered his arm and they
began the walk. "Why didn't your servant accompany you here?"

"I, er, also had business with my solicitor and did
not wish to subject him to such drudgery."

"Nevertheless, he should have come with you, at least
to the solicitor's storefront."

"I shall certainly take your advice into
consideration, Your Grace," she demurred.

How like a man
, she thought,
to tell me
what to do
.

This was why she had refused to accept offers during
her seasons. Never would she give up her freedom and subject
herself to a man's power.

Although Phillip — or rather, the Duke of Bartlett —
was certainly a handsome man. And it was quite flattering, the way
he looked at her so intently as she spoke. It seemed he genuinely
wanted to hear whatever she had to say. His rebuke hadn't been
harsh either, considering the risk she had taken with her safety.
Perhaps she should consider heeding his advice.

Arriving at Madame LeFevre's Millinery, they found
Giles waiting patiently at the door. "Here you are, Lady Amelia.
Safe and sound." He paused before adding. "As much as I enjoyed our
walk, I cringe at the memory of those ruffians accosting you.
Please give me your word that if you should require the services of
your solicitor again, you will not visit him unaccompanied. If your
footman is not available, please call on me. It will be my pleasure
to accompany you, or to see that one of my staff is available if I
am not."

Amelia blinked and nodded. He bowed and then walked
away, followed by his valet. It was only when she felt the coldness
in her mouth that she realized she'd been gaping at him, quite at a
loss for words.

Amelia wore a drab brown dress, totally devoid of
embellishment. She donned a pair of hard-soled, sensible shoes
she'd scrubbed with dirt from the garden to remove their shine.
Giles accompanied her, but he wore his own clothing rather than his
servant's livery. The people she planned to visit tonight loved
their children and most were appreciative of her efforts, but they
had a distrust of the nobility and the wealthy. So she did her best
to downplay her social position and blend in with theirs.