Authors: Amanda Weaver
“It’s a fine morning for a walk,” Radwill observed.
“As Lady Evelyn has reminded us yet again. But yes, the weather is lovely.”
“Do you enjoy the countryside, Miss Wheeler?”
Amelia shrugged. “I suppose. It’s very pretty.”
“Ah, I can tell from your tone that you prefer London. You’re a social creature?”
“Not terribly. Honestly, I miss Portsmouth.”
Radwill’s eyebrows lifted slightly over his rather small brown eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d lived there.”
“I was born there. We lived there until I was ten. When Papa’s foundry had its success, he moved us to Mayfair.”
“And you don’t like London?”
“London is fine. It’s never quite felt like home, though.” No place did, in truth.
“I’d much prefer the peace and quiet of Kenworth Park, myself. That’s the family estate in Lincolnshire.”
“Don’t you miss Switzerland? Isn’t your mother’s family from there?”
He smiled, gratified by her recall of such a small detail. “I am fond of my mother’s family, but I confess, I’m not much for travel, especially outside England. This house party in Kent is as far from home as I like to be. There is no greater pleasure than returning to the quiet comforts of home, don’t you think?”
“Indeed.” In truth, her heart was sinking. He hated to travel? All she wanted to do was to get out of England and see the world. The idea of moldering away for the rest of her life on some sleepy estate in Lincolnshire made her want to shrivel up and cry. “And what do you do to fill up your days in Lincolnshire, Lord Radwill?”
“I try to involve myself with my father and his business manager when I can, to help out with the running of the estate. I assist my mother with the greenhouse sometimes, as it’s a matter of great family pride.”
“The greenhouse?”
“Kenworth Park has a rather famous greenhouse where we grow a great many rare breeds of orchids and other tropical flowers. My great-grandmother had it built, and the maintenance of it has passed from countess to countess. Now my mother is its conservator.”
He paused, letting his implication linger. Radwill’s wife would inherit the responsibility for this famous greenhouse one day. It was too bad Amelia seemed to have the kiss of death when it came to plants. Even her cut bouquets seemed to shrivel up within hours.
“Do you like flowers, Miss Wheeler?”
For the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt. It was laughable, how wrong she was for Radwill. He might have been considering making one of the haystacks they were walking past his viscountess. It would make him as suitable a bride as she would. Well, she’d simply have to learn. Everyone had to adjust when they married. Her adjustment would just be a bit more profound than most brides.
“I adore flowers,” she said with all the sincerity she could muster. “But Lord Radwill, all you’ve described are your duties. Surely you have a passion of your own?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I have a great passion for chess.”
“Chess?”
“Yes, I have several games underway with many players from all over Europe.”
“I’m sorry, how does it work, if you’re not both in the same place?”
Behind his glasses, Radwill’s eyes lit up, perhaps the first real spark of excitement she’d seen in him. “It’s quite thrilling, really. We conduct the entire game via correspondence.”
“I’m afraid you must explain how you play a game via letters.” For a moment, it seemed exciting, almost like a seduction in letters, like in a novel. Radwill’s answer put an end to that flight of fancy.
“Well, you see, we each set up a board in our home. I write my chess partner with my next move, say, knight to queen’s bishop three. I move my piece and when he receives my letter, he moves the corresponding piece on his own board. Then he writes back with his move. I move the piece for him on my board and the game proceeds thusly.”
“But... it must take months!”
“My longest game has been underway for a year and a half. But I think I’ll have him in checkmate in my next letter.”
Speechless, Amelia could only blink in disbelief. If she married him, all she’d see of the world were the letters he received from a bunch of like-minded, excessively patient chess players. How on earth was she expected to manage another sixty years of such a life, fussing over a bunch of delicate flowers and never seeing the world beyond Lincolnshire?
Would she stop wishing to at some point? Perhaps marriage to Radwill would eventually wear her edges away until she was smooth and malleable, able to tuck into his dull, quiet life without a peep. At last, she’d accomplish what Genevieve and her parents, with all the money and training, had failed to achieve. Her wildness would be tamed, but at the price of her very self. The woman she could imagine becoming at Radwill’s side was a stranger to her.
“Do you play, Miss Wheeler?” His expression was hopeful, and so blasted kind, she couldn’t even run screaming from him as she wished to. It wasn’t his fault. He was a good man. And everything her mother could ever wish for.
“Not at all.”
“Oh, what a shame.”
“But I’ve wished to learn,” she amended rapidly.
“Well, if I’m not too forward, perhaps we might take a look at Lord Tewsbury’s chessboard when we get back. I can walk you through the basics.”
“I’d like it more than anything.” Chess had always struck her as the most tedious game imaginable. It would take all her self-discipline to pay attention to his instruction.
“Consider it done. Of course, it’ll be years before you’re any sort of proper playing partner. And the female mind lacks the necessary agility for the strategy necessary in chess. But I can get you started.”
This was not the time to mouth off with an outraged defense of her sex, no matter how badly she wanted to. Besides, Radwill was by no means alone in his belief. Men like Nate—who could recognize and appreciate a woman’s merits, who could allow a woman to best him without damage to his sense of masculinity—were rare indeed. It wasn’t Radwill’s fault he failed to achieve that lofty goal, right? No one did. No one except Nate.
“Lord Radwill,” she said bracingly. “How long has your family been in Lincolnshire? I’m sure the family history must be quite interesting.”
Radwill launched into a truncated family history, not particularly boastful or stuffy. He was modest about his lineage, but quietly proud all the same. It was a good family, well established and imminently respectable. Her mother would be delighted if she brought him home. That thought was all that allowed her to carry on the conversation with any sort of enthusiasm at all. Radwill was Mama’s dream come true and Amelia wanted, more than anything, to give her whatever her heart desired.
When it was finally reached, the Devil’s Kneading Trough turned out to be an epic disappointment. It was nothing more than a wide valley slicing through the countryside, perhaps a mile long, hedged on either side by gentle rises, notable only because they weren’t quite as flat as the surrounding Downs. It was on one of these low rises that the party from Tewsmere stood to survey it. Far from diabolical, it currently held a herd of cattle, idly grazing and swatting at flies.
“Well,” Radwill began. “It certainly is...wide.”
“Isn’t the view magnificent?” Evelyn enthused.
“Quite,” Kitty agreed.
To Amelia, who’d grown up staring out across the turmoil of the English Channel from the docks, the Devil’s Kneading Trough was nothing more than a couple of unexceptional hills and an empty valley between them.
“One can almost see Satan himself kneading bread dough,” she said. “How diabolical.”
Evelyn laughed. “Oh, Miss Wheeler, you’re so wicked.”
“Hmm. Yes, I’ve been told as much. Often.”
Radwill leaned closer to her. “It does seem rather a long way to walk for a bit of a view.” Finally! Some sign of life from him. He was having a less-than-generous thought about their hostess. Amelia could expound at length on the subject, but she listened to the little Genevieve in her head warning her it would be unladylike. Instead, she summoned every diplomatic skill she’d been taught.
“She’s excited to show off her home county in its best light,” she said, smiling indulgently in Evelyn’s direction. “Such enthusiasm is noble.”
Radwill smiled at her. “You’ve a very kind heart, Miss Wheeler.”
She suppressed a snort of laughter. If he could hear her thoughts regarding Evelyn, he wouldn’t think her kindhearted. He’d think her nearly a criminal. “Still, it’s a lovely day to spend outside, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. And in such delightful company. Might I walk with you for the return?”
She tried hard to feel some joy in her apparent success securing his interest. “I’d like it very much.”
He offered her his arm, and she tucked her hand into his elbow, trying to picture herself walking at his side for the rest of her days. Her usually vivid imagination refused to cooperate. All she could see was day after day of sameness and boredom, exactly like today.
The party began to make the long walk back. Evelyn and Kitty were chatting with Will and Tony in front. Nate and Julia followed, Nate’s head bent down to hear Julia. They seemed quite absorbed with each other. It was more than a polite conversation like the one she was doggedly maintaining with Radwill. They were having an actual exchange of ideas. She couldn’t begin to guess what they’d found to engage them both to such a degree. Perhaps Julia was interested in Nate...properly interested. And he’d already made his intentions toward her clear.
As impossible as it seemed, Nate might succeed in securing Julia’s hand before she’d done the same with Radwill. Her stomach plunged sickeningly at the thought.
He could do much worse. Perhaps Julia was not the most talkative girl, but what she said always seemed to be genuinely meant. She didn’t flutter and flirt like Evelyn and Kitty, and, although she kept her own counsel, it wasn’t hard to notice there was quite a formidable intelligence behind those striking blue eyes. Nate might have been pursuing her for her title and connections, but he could do worse for a wife. She was a lovely girl, intelligent and refined, and the precise opposite of Amelia. As Julia’s whole face lit up with excitement and her hands waved as she described something to Nate, it was clear a true connection had formed between them.
How could she blame Julia for that? Nate was fascinating. Aside from his obvious physical appeal, he was a man of the world. He’d been everywhere, seen everything. He’d started with nothing to his name and transformed himself into the wealthy gentleman he was today. Anybody would admire him. Of course Julia wanted him. Any sensible woman would. It was only Amelia who wasn’t allowed to.
Chapter Eleven
“So you see, Miss Wheeler, the dissolution of the monasteries was the best thing for everyone,” Lord Radwill concluded, settling back in his chair. They were continuing the conversation begun on the long walk back from the Devil’s Kneading Trough, although now it was many hours later, after dinner, in the drawing room.
Amelia thought perhaps the peasants who’d farmed the lands for the monasteries and been left starving when the Crown seized them might have argued with Radwill’s assertion. She didn’t share her opinion, though, since being a promising marital prospect meant leaving her knowledge and opinions at the door.
“I’m sure you’re right. My, Lord Radwill, I am so parched. Shall we have some tea?”
Radwill sat up suddenly, leaning into her. “George,” he murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“Perhaps you might call me ‘George,’” he said, looking pointedly into her eyes. “And you might give me leave to call you ‘Amelia’?”
This was undoubtedly a sign of success. He was interested enough to suggest this depth of familiarity between them. Forcing a smile, she used the same intimate, almost-whisper to answer him. “George, then. Shall we get some tea, George?”
“I’d like that, Amelia.”
It was working. Radwill—George—wanted her. If she could stay the course and encourage him, he might even ask her before the house party was over. Her heart tripped, but for all the wrong reasons. Instead of elation, she felt a low, bubbling panic.
After he proposed, she’d have to marry him. She’d have to spend the rest of her life as his wife—Lady Radwill. Now she understood Victoria’s grim resolve when faced with her marriage to the heir to the Duke of Waring. For Victoria, their match that, on the surface, looked like any girl’s dream, was nothing more than a life sentence to be endured.
Victoria’s marriage was not happy. Her husband lived abroad in Italy and they rarely even spoke. Judging from her letters, she’d found some measure of peace for herself without him. She had her house and her tenants to look after. She seemed, if not exactly happy, content, at least.
Perhaps she’d find the same with Radwill. He was kind and polite. He wouldn’t be cruel to her. He’d be a considerate spouse. The worst she could say about him was that he was dull. She would lack a scintillating partner in life, but like Victoria, perhaps in time, she’d find other means to fulfill herself.
Radwill stood before her and offered her his hand. Amelia steeled herself and took it. He escorted her over to the tea cart where Evelyn was pouring for Tony.
“Ah, Lord Radwill, Miss Wheeler. Tea?”
“Yes, please, Lady Evelyn. Thank you.”
Radwill and Tony engaged in some small talk as Amelia sipped her tea and looked about the room. Nate and Julia were in a window seat, deep in conversation again, which she tried not to let affect her.
Across the room in the other direction, Mr. Cheadle was talking with his friend, Mr. Morley, whom she’d finally met briefly at dinner. As Evelyn had alluded, Mr. Morley’s dress and manners clearly marked him out as middle class, and perhaps only barely, which made his connection to Mr. Cheadle even more puzzling. Considering they were friends, there seemed to be a considerable amount of hostility between them. They were both scowling, conversing in low, clipped tones. Why had Mr. Morley even come here when he seemed to dislike Cheadle so much? Nate was likely right. Her interest in Cheadle’s personal affairs was impolite. But she couldn’t help it. Something was off and she wanted to know what it was.
Well, she hadn’t even properly spoken to Mr. Morley yet, and this
was
a house party and he
was
a guest. There wouldn’t be anything untoward about making some conversation, would there?
“Would you excuse me?” she said to Radwill. “I have yet to properly meet Mr. Cheadle’s friend. I think I’ll go get to know him a bit.”
“Oh yes,” Evelyn said. “I’m sure you’ll have a great deal to talk about.”
There was no missing her thinly veiled insult. Amelia could only assume she was alluding to Mr. Morley’s obviously common origins. It was a wonder Evelyn had even asked him to stay, unless she wanted more fodder for sport at someone else’s expense. If that was the case, he had her sympathy, and it made her all the more determined to talk to him.
Morley and Cheadle were engrossed in their conversation, angled toward the wall, leaning in until their heads were only inches apart. For a moment, she reconsidered. It looked as if outsiders wouldn’t be welcome. But her alternative was to return to Radwill’s side and she’d had about all she could take of pretending to find him fascinating. They didn’t notice her approach, as they were too focused on their discussion. As she grew near, she heard Morley murmur, “She’s getting impatient, waiting in London.”
“Tell her it’s not a quick business,” Cheadle snapped.
“I have, but you know her.” Morley unfurled a lazy, knowing grin as he said it. “Then again, I suppose you
do
know her, eh?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want
her
to hear, would we?” Morley lifted his chin in Amelia’s direction as he caught sight of her. Cheadle spun around, face white with horror.
“Miss Wheeler! I was about to seek you out. I was sorry to miss the walk this morning, depriving myself of your delightful companionship.”
“The walk was merely long and hot. Although being away from the house, I didn’t get the chance to speak with your friend. The introductions at dinner were so rushed.”
Mr. Morley gave her a smile that could only be described as calculating and greedy and Amelia regretted feeling even a flicker of sympathy for the man. His teeth, the front one chipped, peeked from under a thick, badly groomed moustache as his eyes dropped down her body and back up.
“Why, that is a shame, isn’t it? Happy to meet you, Miss Wheeler.”
“Likewise, Mr. Morley.”
Morley extended a hand to her and with some reluctance, Amelia set her fingers against his.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Cheadle, here.” Morley murmured before pressing his lips to her knuckles, too hard and too long. She fought the impulse to rip her hand away. That would teach her to be nice to strangers.
“Mr. Morley was about to excuse himself, weren’t you, Morley?”
Amelia started at Cheadle’s blatant attempt to chase Mr. Morley off, but curiously, Morley didn’t take offense. He smiled at Cheadle, a slick grin utterly without friendliness. “Not at all. At least, not now when such a lovely lass has joined us.”
Cheadle glared at Morley, who merely grinned back. For someone who’d come all the way to Kent to see his friend, Mr. Morley didn’t seem at all fond of Cheadle. Mr. Cheadle clearly didn’t care for Morley. And who was the “she” in London who they both seemed to know? Mr. Cheadle seemed to have a number of unsavory connections.
Cheadle scowled, but made an effort to shake off his anger as he addressed her once more. “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy your walk this morning.”
“It wasn’t all bad. Lord Radwill was very good company.”
Cheadle scowled. “Was he?”
“Yes, he’s such a kind man, don’t you think?” She was lingering on Radwill perhaps a bit too long, but it couldn’t hurt to send Cheadle a message.
“Radwill’s a sop,” Morley said. “You need a man with a bit of fire in his veins, Miss Wheeler, like Cheadle here.”
“Morley!” Cheadle exclaimed, but Morley ignored him.
“A spirited young piece like you needs a man who can tame her fire.”
Amelia had grown up on the docks in Portsmouth and was no stranger to rough speech or lewd innuendo. But she was unprepared to encounter it at a house party at an earl’s estate. All the usual witty retorts and sharp set-downs she might have deployed failed her as she stared at Morley in shock.
“I...”
“Miss Wheeler,” Cheadle interjected frantically. “It’s quite warm in here. Perhaps you’d care for a stroll in the garden? Several of the others have already gone out.”
She was on the edge of refusing and retreating to the safety of Radwill’s side again, but then she glanced across the room and saw Nate ushering Julia through the French doors leading to the gardens. He was smiling down at her, his hand touching her waist as she walked out ahead of him. This evening simply could not get worse.
Something crazed and panicked rose up in her. Yes, Nate couldn’t be hers and no doubt he’d offer for Julia and she’d spend her life as his wife. Everything was leading there. But not yet! He couldn’t irrevocably tie himself to her yet. With nothing more in her head than a need to be where Nate was before he was out of her life again, and this time for good, she laid her hand on Cheadle’s outstretched arm. Even Cheadle’s company was preferable to Morley’s and at least she’d be outside where Nate was taking Julia.
“That would be quite refreshing, Mr. Cheadle. Thank you.”
* * *
Julia Harrow was a conundrum.
None of this was going how he’d expected. Oh, she seemed to like him well enough, in her way. She was quite interested in his life and concerns, which had to count for something. She asked endless questions about ships and imports and his business in particular. He’d never spoken to a young lady at such length about business, which was pleasant, since he’d much rather discuss shipping than gossip about London Society. She didn’t stir the slightest carnal interest in him, but he liked her. Many marriages were founded on far less.
The odd thing was, for all her conversational encouragement, she never once seemed to be flirting with him. He kept waiting for the coy look, the accidental brush of her hand against his, some indication the young lady would welcome a more intimate kind of conversation, but it never came. When he ventured to flirt himself, she steadfastly failed to acknowledge it, not even to rebuff his forwardness. She simply didn’t notice. The girl was a puzzle and he had no idea where he stood with her.
In an attempt to push things to some sort of head, he’d suggested that they take a turn in the garden. It was a bit forward, but Evelyn had already escaped outside with Tony, and Kitty followed shortly after with Will so it wasn’t as if they were entirely alone. Even now, as they strolled down a dim pathway bordered by box hedges, he could hear Evelyn’s loud laugh ringing out from no more than twenty feet away. Any sense of seclusion was an illusion.
Still, if it helped drive his point home with Julia, it could only be a good thing. She wasn’t picking up any other hints he dropped.
“Tell me again, Mr. Smythe, how you came to choose the
Fair Maid
for your lucrative run to Cádiz?”
Nate’s eyebrows shot up in surprise that she remembered not only the name of one of his ships but that he’d made his most profitable run as a captain on the ship. The girl had an astonishing ability to recall obscure details of conversation. He wasn’t sure why she cared, but he nonetheless launched into an explanation of his choice.
“Yes, it might seem an odd choice, as the
Fair Maid
is a full third larger than most of the other ships docked in Cádiz, but I had spent time in Cádiz before and I knew there were often smaller shipments needing cargo space if one was willing to take the gamble. I chose to risk making the run with ballast to make up the difference, wagering I’d be able to fill it on the return.”
“And did you?”
“I did. Once in Cádiz, I spent a bit of time socializing with some local merchants. One was an olive merchant looking to send some goods to London. We settled the arrangements over dinner in a quayside restaurant over a few bottles of the local wine.”
“How delightful!”
Nate perked up at her apparent interest in Spain. He’d loved the country, and loved the lengthy, casual dinners he’d shared with the businessmen he’d met. Plates full of seafood fresh from the ocean and plentiful conversation, all washed down with bottles of cheap wine. It was a far cry from stuffy dinners in London, and much more enjoyable.
“Do you have an interest in Spain?”
She shook her head. “Travel doesn’t suit me. But it was quite bold of you to reserve the extra space in your holds, counting on your ability to fill it once you were there.”
“Oh. Yes, well, I’m fairly good at thinking on my feet and working things out as I go along. I’ve made somewhat of a career of it.”
“That’s abundantly clear, Mr. Smythe,” Julia said. “If I may, it’s your best asset.”
Nate blinked. His best asset? Not his rugged good looks? Not his charm? Not his impressive height? Many a woman had exclaimed over any or all of those features, but not once had a woman been enamored of his problem-solving abilities. Julia Harrow was unmoved by all these things, but his ability to land on his feet and conjure a deal out of thin air...
that’s
what impressed her?
At least she approved of him, in her peculiar way. It had definitely been a compliment. And they were alone, in the dark, in this garden. This was the moment to press his suit, if he was going to do it. And now, when he stood on the precipice of getting what he wanted, he found his will flagging.
He cast a sideways glance at Julia. Her profile was outlined in the soft glow of light from the house, her golden hair picked out in the silver moonlight. Such a dichotomy, looking like a fragile young girl in this light, though he knew her to be twenty-four and hiding a sharp mind behind that sweet face.
He could declare himself and have her secured as his fiancée by morning. Something cold turned over in his chest at the thought. What was wrong with him? When he sat in a seaside cafe in Cádiz across from a seasoned Spanish businessman, he’d had no problem launching into business negotiations. And now he stood quaking in fear before this girl.
This was nonsense. Securing Julia Harrow’s affections were all that stood between him and an alliance with her father. It was time to make a move.
“Lady Julia....” He stopped and swallowed thickly. “Julia...”
“Yes?”
“It’s been a great pleasure getting to know you this week.”
“Yes it has. You’re everything I’d hoped you’d be.”
“I am?”
Julia nodded. “Very much so.”