The Unwanted Earl (2 page)

All coherent thought fled from Conrad’s mind. “Wh-what’s your name?”

“
I’m Cecilia.”

He stared at the pretty woman, suddenly afraid that if she didn’t hold him up in the uncomfortable chair he might just slide right onto the disgusting, grungy floor. It made him want to pick his feet up so he wouldn’t be touching it, but they were the only thing keeping him in the chair.

Mr. Fletcher stepped closer and smiled. The large metal instrument, bent and rounded at one end and pointed at the other, looked quite barbaric. “Open wide, please. This will only hurt for a minute.”

Only for a minute?
That seemed an eternity. Conrad opened his mouth, just as he caught a whiff of blood from the man’s apron.

No… oh no…

Everything went dark.

Amelia Talbot climbed
into her father’s carriage with the help of the groom. Once seated, she glanced out the window, wondering if anyone had seen her hurry away from the surgeon-dentist’s building. What would she tell her mother when she got back home without the medicine for her gums? It should have been a job for one of the footmen, but Mother insisted she trusted only Amelia. Did she think that the servants might try to poison her? The woman did have a frightful habit of yelling at them for no reason.

She’d fully intended on making quick work of entering the building as she had done in the past to procure her mother’s medicine, but when Amelia had overheard what Lord Lofton and his mother were discussing, she had ducked behind the hedge. Childish behavior, yes, but if she’d rushed away like a scared rabbit, they would have heard her. And there wouldn’t have been a polite way to interrupt them by passing them on the way to the door.

Pardon me while I step between you as you discuss your personal family scandal. Excuse me? What’s that I heard? You’re not an earl?

Amelia shook her head. Lord Lofton wasn’t
Lord Lofton
at all. And didn’t even know who his real father was. How terrible for him. He wasn’t someone she knew well, never had, but they were in the same social circles, so were often at the same places. And, he’d once been engaged to Lucy Shipley.

I’ve always been curious about that
. Why hadn’t they married? What had happened to prevent it? Amelia frowned as the familiar jealousy seeped in. It always did when she thought of Lucy. The woman had everything. She was beautiful, sweet, and talented artistically and everyone seemed to like her. Lucy had also been courted by
two
different men. Two very wealthy men.

Why could it not have been me?
Amelia toyed with the yellow lace at the hem of her pelisse. Her father had hinted for several months that if she didn’t find someone soon, someone who was wealthy, he was going to marry her off to Lord Griffith.
Lord Griffith!
The man was eighty. At
least.
A shiver ran through her and she pulled her pelisse tighter.

Thoughts of being married and doing
that,
with him… Kissing. Touching. And… Nausea rolled across her stomach. No. There must be some other way. Some other man…

Any other man.

It had to be someone of imminent wealth or her father wouldn’t be satisfied. Why couldn’t she find someone? She’d been told by many that she was beautiful. Her green eyes and red hair weren’t all that common. And more than once, she’d caught men admiring her considerable… assets. So her looks weren’t the problem.

Of course, some people considered her temper a bit of a sticky proposition. Ah yes. She’d been reminded on many occasions about that. Amelia slapped her hand once against her knee as a flash of irritation overtook her. As soon as a suitable man seemed ripe for the picking, she would discover something about him that was irritating. Annoying.
Vexing
. One had a nose that whistled when he exhaled. Another had a chin dimple so deep it looked as if he’d been kicked by a mule. Others were too old or too fat. Too loud or too smelly. Was it her fault that all the eligible men were lacking? Once she discovered the faults in any given suitor, she’d loudly point it out to the man. Wasn’t it her duty to make him aware?

Somehow, though, that had seemed to scare them off. So there she was, still unmarried.

Her father’s estate came into view as the horses’ hooves
clip-clopped
on the long drive. Amelia cringed at the thought of lying to her mother about the gum treatment, but she couldn’t very well tell her she’d been hiding in the bushes and spying on the Loftons, now could she?

The carriage rolled to a stop. A strong wind whipped around her skirt as she stepped to the ground with the groom’s assistance. She hurried to the front door, relieved when it opened just as she reached it.

“
Good day, Miss Talbot.” Gordon, the butler, gave a slight bow.

Amelia removed her pelisse and hat. “Good day, Gordon.” She glanced at the stairs. “Is Mother in her room?”

“
Yes, miss.” He cleared his throat. “But Mr. Talbot…”

Amelia frowned and tapped her foot. She hated it when the servants made her wait. For anything. Mother had never tolerated it. Had Amelia learned that habit from her? “Well, what is it? What about Father?”

Gordon’s sallow cheeks reddened. “I’m to inform you at your return to see him in his study post haste.”

Post haste?
That sounded not in the least appealing. When Father was in a rush to speak to her, it was never a positive experience. “Very well.”

Amelia dragged her feet in a very unladylike manner as she trudged down the hall. She hated being summoned to Father’s study.
Hated it.
A loud sigh escaped her lips. May as well get it over with. Then she could get on to more pleasant activities afterward. She needed to see what Sunny, her cat, was up to. Probably lounging on Amelia’s bed again.

With a light knock, she pushed the heavy wooden door open. “Father? Gordon said—”

“
Come in, Amelia.”

Amelia
. Oh no. He only called her that when irritated. Usually it was Kitten or Buttercup. Whatever he had to say to her would surely be unpleasant. She entered the room and closed the door. Family protocol called for her to stand in front of her father’s desk with her hands folded in front of her until spoken to. And with today’s manner of his address to her, it would be advantageous not to try to bend the rules.

How long must I wait?
Her foot itched to tap her boot with impatience. But no, she mustn’t try Father. Not today. No telling what he had on his mind.

He placed the papers he’d been reading aside and looked up. “Amelia.”

There it was again. Why could he not change it to Kitten? Even an infrequently used Darling would suffice. But she held her tongue.

“
You may sit.”

She hurried to the chair nearest his desk and sat, smoothing out wrinkles from her skirt. Amelia lifted an expectant gaze and waited. Again. Father insisted on being the first to speak in any conversation held in his house. Interrupting, heaven forbid, before the approved moment might cause repercussions of a Biblical nature.

“
I have something to discuss with you.”

She nodded. Wasn’t that obvious? Since she’d been summoned and all. Perhaps she was overreacting. Maybe he had something positive to say, such as that her mare had arrived, or he’d reconsidered her request to have her room redecorated even though it had been less than six months since the last time.

Father drummed his large fingers on his desktop. The sound, light and quick, was like raindrops on the windowpane. “I know I’ve mentioned in the past that I expect you to marry. Soon.”

No such luck, apparently. Amelia grasped her hands together in her lap. So
that
was to be the topic. Hadn’t they already had several discussions along those same lines?

Crevices marred his brow as he held out his hand toward Amelia, giving permission for her to enter into the now one-sided conversation. Sometimes she nearly exploded while she sat and waited for the royal tip of his hand. The man needed a scepter. It would make his ridiculous imperial
greatness
stand out all the more.

“
Yes, Father. As we’ve discussed on many an occasion.”

“
This time, however, is different.”

Did he wish to marry her off to some foreign prince this time? At least that might add an element of excitement to the otherwise dreary discussion.

“
Things have taken a different turn, so to speak.”

That didn’t sound good. Not good at all. Amelia sat up straight. “How so?”

“
I’ve mentioned having you marry Lord Griffith.”

She grimaced. It couldn’t be helped. As if by their own power, her lips had curled down in distaste. Whose wouldn’t under those circumstances? Surely any girl would feel the same? “Yes but I—”

“
I’ve heard just today that his health is failing. And he has no heir. So…”

“
No!” She sprang up from the chair. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“
I beg your pardon?” He crossed his arms over his chest. She’d done it now. He only did that when he was truly vexed.

Her mouth gone dry, Amelia retook her seat. Without quite meeting his eye, she glanced quickly in his direction. “Forgive me for the outburst Father, but I… Perhaps there is another way?”
Please let there be something… anything.
 

“
I’m afraid we’re running out of time. I need the money that would come from a…
merger
of the two families. And you can’t seem to settle on any of the young men who’ve shown you interest.”

Merger? She shivered. “I… But he’s so… And I don’t think I could possibly…”

“
Amelia, this is nothing personal. Marriage matches are made every day for reasons of business and convenience. Surely you didn’t think you would marry for love?”

She smoothed down the lace of her cuff. “Well I…”

He laughed.
Laughed!
 

Irritation bristled just beneath her skin. How dare he laugh at her simply because she had the notion to marry for love? To have a man think her the sun and the moon and wish to do anything to make her happy. Others had unions such as that. Why not her?

A sudden vision of Lucy and Oliver Shipley so happy, so in love, crossed her mind. There it was again. The jealous fire that burned across her heart every time she thought of Lucy. Who had
everything
.

And Amelia would have old Mr. Griffith. It wasn’t fair.

Father stood. “I can see this is difficult for you, Amelia. But I can only wait a few weeks longer. If you truly think you can procure someone to ask for your hand in that time period, then by all means…” He swept his hand in front of him as if the room were filled with suitable marriage prospects.

She stood as well. “You’re saying that if I find someone suitable in that time, then I won’t be saddled with…”

Father raised his eyebrows.

“
Uh…
married
to
Lord Griffith?”

“
That is correct. But the man in question, if there is such a man, must be well off. Very well off. Preferably titled.”

He gave a pointed look at the door, her, and then back to the door.

Ah… the meeting was at an end. So be it. She headed that direction and let herself out into the hall. It was for the best anyway. She needed time to formulate her plan to find someone.

Amelia walked to the staircase. With each rising step, she fretted more and more. Where was she going to find someone to agree to marry her on such short notice? And it had to be someone rich. And titled.

Rich and titled. Barons. Marquis. Earls.

Earls?

Lord Lofton was an earl. And still unmarried. And she knew something about him she was sure he wouldn’t wish others to find out.

Would it be possible to persuade him to marry her as a means to keep her quiet? She wouldn’t go around telling people his secret, but he didn’t need to know that. She reached the top of the stairs, continued down the hall and entered her room.

Maybe spending some time with her cat would soothe her nerves. Where was Sunny? Amelia could never seem to find him when she wanted to. Just like a cat, though, so independent. But wasn’t that what some people said about her? Never wanting to follow the crowd. Liked to do things her own way. Some people took that as standoffishness, but really Amelia was often insecure, especially around women whom she envied.

A check under the bed and a peek behind the curtains didn’t produce her cat. With a shrug, Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and changed from her boots to her slippers. She stood and headed back out of the room and down the stairs. Perhaps one of the maids let him outside to play. It was a lovely day.

Maybe I’ll go play, too.
A smile lifted the corners of her lips. Oh how her mother hated when she acted in an unladylike way. But being spontaneous and daring was so much more fun than sitting idle doing needlepoint. Or worrying herself into a frazzle about finding a husband.

A look to the left and right produced no spying eyes from parents or servants, so Amelia hurried to the French doors of the parlor. From there, she stepped out onto the path that took her to the garden.

She had a sneaking suspicion Sunny was napping on the bench under the rose trellis. That sounded like a very appealing idea to her, as well. Maybe they could nap together. Birds chattered above her from the tall oak trees that lined the garden path. Butterflies in variations of orange and yellow flitted around the flowers. One bold yellow one landed on her shoulder.

“
Well hello, there. Aren’t you a beauty?” The butterfly waved its wings twice before flying a crooked path toward the roses. Amelia laughed. How she loved to be outside. Especially in the garden.

Movement from a few feet away caught her eye. “There you are, Sunny.” Her ginger-colored cat lay on his back with his belly facing the sun. When she reached the bench, she stood staring down at him. “Found a good spot for a nap, have you?”