Authors: Amanda Weaver
“I’m only asked anywhere as a joke. Or because of my money. It doesn’t matter. I won’t let them walk all over me, no matter how blue their blood runs.”
Nate smiled down at her. The expression in his eyes, soft and almost fond, did something funny to her insides. “There’s the Amelia I remember.”
She sighed and looked around the room. “I haven’t changed much, to my parents’ eternal dismay. Now, as we’re the only two untitled people in this room, shall you escort me in to dinner at the end of the line?”
He offered her his arm. “Walk in to dinner with the loveliest girl in the room on my arm? I’d be honored.”
And just like that, Amelia felt beautiful again.
* * *
Kitty appeared at dinner during the soup course, her face still flushed and glaring daggers at Amelia.
“You look lovely, Kitty,” she said as the other girl took her seat across the table and a few places down. “That color is quite becoming on you.”
Kitty glanced down at her deep pink dress, which did indeed look better on her than the pale atrocity she’d been in earlier, and gritted her teeth. She opened her mouth to say something but Will Thistlethwaite leaned in and spoke up. “Yes, Kitty, your dress is smashing on you.”
The compliment was enough to smooth Kitty’s feathers, at least for now. Amelia was sure she’d pay for her rashness eventually, though.
“Say, Evie,” Tony Batchelder said. “Is your father rounding up a shooting party tomorrow?”
Evelyn brightened. “He is, indeed. Do you shoot, Tony?”
“Fair enough.” Tony was shaping up to be the nominal head of the Cambridge contingent at the house party. He had a lively wit and engaging manner, although Amelia had always felt it masked a tendency toward nastiness. Still, he was charming and Evelyn seemed fairly enamored of him.
“I bet you shoot delightfully,” Evelyn sighed.
“How exactly does one shoot delightfully, Evie? I suppose it’s pleasant enough when you hit the bird, but I’d save the word
delightful
for more...intimate activities.”
Evelyn giggled and blushed. “Oh, Tony, you’re terrible.”
It was a wonder of advantageous seating that Lady Tewsbury had managed to group all the young people at one end of the table and all their parents at the other. Too bad, because Tony Batchelder could use the presence of a disapproving mother or two to keep him in line.
In an attempt to keep him from making more inappropriate double entendres over the soup course, Amelia directed a question at Lord Radwill, only one place away from her. “Lord Radwill, do you plan on going out with the shooting party tomorrow?”
He glanced up, surprised at being addressed by her. “I believe I shall. What are your plans for tomorrow, Miss Wheeler?”
“I’m going shooting, too.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Indeed! You hunt?”
“Oh, I muddle along.”
“I’m sure you’re quite competent,” he said gallantly, which sounded a bit awkward coming from him, the least heroic man in the room, save Cheadle, perhaps.
“I’m afraid I’m a dreadful shot.” She made herself smile at him, more intimate and more flirtatious than she felt by far. “Perhaps you might give me some guidance?”
“I’d be delighted.” A flicker of interest lit his eyes. It wasn’t much, a passing fancy. But it was enough to raise her spirits. If she proceeded carefully, and made no more disastrous missteps like Kitty, maybe—just maybe—this could work.
“Perhaps we could discuss it after dinner?” she suggested.
“I’d like that very much, Miss Wheeler.”
Such a nice man. Friendly and generous and kind. Boring, but exceedingly polite. She had to watch her tongue around him constantly, for fear she’d slip and say something shocking, scaring him away. But it wasn’t his fault, it was hers. Besides, everyone was forever telling her she needed to control herself. Perhaps such a sedate husband would be good for her. At his side, she’d learn moderation and rationality at last.
Feeling somewhat cheered by their small interaction, she glanced down the table to see what salacious subject Evelyn and Tony had moved on to. Instead, her eyes met Nate’s, his wicked smirk telling her he’d watched her entire exchange with Radwill and was judging her for it. The urge to stick her tongue out at him was nearly overwhelming.
Surely such a reaction told her everything she needed to know about this man. Whatever he once was to her, now Nate only brought out her worst traits. With Radwill, she strived to behave. Not that it was even worth comparing them. There was no comparison. Nate was in the past, and she meant to do all she could to make Radwill her future.
* * *
The ladies’ conversation in the parlor as they waited for the men to join them was unspeakably tedious. Kitty glared at her from across the room, but so far she seemed to have not accused Amelia of attacking her. But just because Kitty wasn’t blackening her name to the group didn’t mean Amelia was enjoying herself. These were all wives of Lord Tewsbury’s friends or Evelyn’s friends. Julia was kind enough but she was being monopolized by Evelyn and Kitty. Amelia sat with Lady Spalding, making the dreaded small talk about the weather.
She exhaled with relief when the gentlemen joined them, but her delight was short-lived. Before she could make her way to Lord Radwill, Mr. Cheadle descended on her. His thin lips curled in an obsequious smile.
“My dear Miss Wheeler. I was terribly distressed that we were seated so far apart during dinner. It prevented any conversation between us and let me assure you,” he said, laying his hand on his chest as if in pain, “I felt the deficit tremendously at my end of the table. It was if the sun had gone out.”
As she suppressed an eye roll, she skirted around him, aiming for Radwill. “You don’t say? I found the conversation quite lively at my end.”
But Cheadle wasn’t easily dissuaded. He reached for her hand. “Perhaps you might sit and converse with me now to correct the imbalance.”
“Oh...but I’ve got to...there’s someone I should...I mean...” Amelia tugged her hand back but Cheadle refused to release it.
“Miss Wheeler has something of great urgency to discuss with me.”
* * *
Nate had enjoyed a moment of amusement watching Amelia try to wiggle free of Cheadle, but when she began looking truly upset—and when Cheadle refused to release her hand—he’d decided he’d seen enough and moved to rescue her. She did manage to get herself into the most awkward situations. He reached out and plucked her hand from Cheadle’s grasp. Taking her firmly by the elbow, he turned her about and aimed them both toward a window seat on the sparsely populated far side of the room.
“You have picked up a most determined admirer, Amelia.”
She let out a disgusted huff. “I’ve discouraged him at every turn and he keeps dogging my heels. He must have gotten chased away from the young ladies with fortunes
and
titled fathers and decided I’m his best shot at marrying money.”
Nate stopped and looked at her. “You truly think that’s the only reason a man would pay you his attentions?” In the gold haze of the gaslights, he could see a million reasons why any man with eyes would pay attention to Amelia. Tonight she was nearly aglow in her yellow dress, which was ingeniously cut to highlight every perfect curve she possessed. She blossomed out of it, all smooth skin and glossy black curls and flashing dark eyes. He’d scarcely been able to keep his eyes off her during dinner. She made his mouth water.
“I’m not deluded. Thank you for the rescue. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
She started to brush past him, but he held her back with a hand on her wrist. “Where are you off to?”
“Lord Radwill.”
Something unpleasant began to unfurl low in his gut. She’d expressed an interest in him before, but her tone had been calculating, dismissive—he’d thought she was speaking hypothetically. But here she was, pursuing him again, craning her neck to glimpse him from across the room.
Radwill
. A man so unassuming and bland, people often forgot he was in the room. Why?
“Why?” he asked out loud.
She shot him a look of pure exasperation. “Radwill may not be the most thrilling man who ever lived—”
Nate snickered.
“Hush, you. He’s perhaps a little dull, but he’s not a fright to look at. He’s a gentleman. Every report of his character marks him out as honorable and upstanding.”
“You’ve done your homework.”
“Yes, I have. And while I’ve learned his estates could use an influx of cash, he’s not destitute.”
“And that matters?”
“Of course. An utterly ruined man who marries you out of desperation will be bound to resent it and you, probably sooner than later.”
Nate nodded. He had to admit the truth behind what she said. Still, it was all rather bloodless and distasteful, especially coming from Amelia, the most passionate person he knew. “All right,” he conceded. “Looking at it in practical terms, he seems to be a decent match on paper.”
Amelia smiled smugly.
“But why do you suppose he’ll want to marry you?”
She drew in a sharp breath, offense flashing in her eyes. Part of him wanted to apologize, but another part wanted to keep pushing at her until she left off her insane scheme. If she was hurt, she didn’t show it long. She folded her arms across her chest, which did spectacular things to her breasts, and squared her delicate little jaw. “I should ask you the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Julia? Or should I say, Lady Julia Harrow, daughter of an earl. Really, Nate? Why would she ever consider you?”
Now he was the one bristling. He could shake off a social slight from a titled gentleman without a care. But a slight from Amelia stung more than he liked to admit. They’d once been allies. But of course, those days were gone forever. “You forget,” he replied coldly. “I’m not a penniless deckhand anymore. I’ve got quite a fortune now.”
“Yes, you certainly do. You swore you’d come back with one and you did.”
“Why does that sound like a judgment and not a compliment?”
“Because I liked you well enough when you were penniless. Because the poor dock runner was my friend. This rich ship owner is an ambitious stranger.”
“How very easy for you to say. Your family never went hungry.”
“That’s not fair. You know I never cared about my father’s fortune.”
“And yet, here you are, using it as bait for that hapless sod across the room.”
“I have my reasons.”
“So do I.”
“Besides, according to you, I’m too crass to manage him.”
“You have to admit, you’re a rather unconventional debutante.”
“And you make quite the suitor for an earl’s daughter. Do be sure to tell her an opium addict taught you how to waltz. I’m sure she’ll find it fascinating.”
It was remarkable how the people who knew you best also knew exactly how to inflict the most damage. He hadn’t seen Amelia in ten years, and still, she knew every one of his insecurities as if it was her own. Well, two could play that game, if she insisted on getting personal.
“Do you plan on telling Radwill how much money your father paid to turn you into a lady? Not that it was entirely successful. Don’t think I can’t guess what went on between you and Kitty Ponsoy earlier tonight. These other young ladies know a great deal more than you when it comes to marrying viscounts, I’m sure.”
Color bloomed along the tops of her cheekbones and her dark eyes sparked a warning at him. His pulse spiked in some visceral response. “You think I can’t hold my own against these simpering Society misses and win him?”
He laughed. “I think you could pin them to the pavement and dislocate their thumbs quite easily. But facing off in a ballroom? Winning the regard of a viscount? Less easy to imagine.”
She smirked, a truly diabolical expression, and shook her head. “People have made the mistake of underestimating me my whole life. I didn’t think you would, though, Nate.”
A rusty yet familiar warning rang in his mind. Amelia was about to get up to no good, and it was probably his fault, as he’d been purposefully prodding her. But he’d let it go too far. They’d both said too many unguarded things. “Amelia, I simply meant—”
“You mean you don’t think a proper gentleman would ever fancy me. You don’t think I can do it.” Suddenly he felt as if this entire argument had been neatly turned on him and he was about to be skewered with his own blade.
“I didn’t say—”
“You just
watch
me.”
“Amelia—”
“I bet I can get Radwill before you can manage things with Julia.”
“I never said I was pursuing Julia.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft. Of course you are. Let’s see if
you
can convince the lovely, well-bred Lady Julia to overlook your less than illustrious past.”
In spite of himself, he felt his temper rising again. Why did he always take the bait she dangled? “You don’t think I can charm her?”
She snorted. He advanced on her. She took a step back, then stumbled. His hand shot out to catch her elbow.
“Don’t worry, Miss Wheeler. We’re in a crowded parlor. I’d hardly do something inappropriate.”
But he didn’t release her arm. Instead he swept his thumb across her upper arm, right above where her glove ended. Her bare arm was silky and smooth, trembling under his hand. He leaned in and smiled. “I assure you, I can be quite persuasive when properly motivated.”
She swallowed hard, her throat constricting and relaxing. He had a strange urge to lay his palm there, to wrap his fingers around that fragile, pale column, and feel her breathing under his hand. His eyes dipped to the hollow at the base, and lower, to the incredible swell of her breasts straining against her scandalously lovely dress. When he looked back at her face, her lips were parted and her expression was slightly muddled. She blinked once at him and the fog cleared. Wrenching her arm out of his grasp, she stepped back again. This time he didn’t follow, even though he wanted to.
“Somehow I doubt Julia will be swayed by your roguish charms.”
“And Radwill will be bowled over by your mastery of colorful dockside language?”
She took a breath and before his eyes, she transformed. She smiled, a sweet, innocent smile he’d never before seen on her face. She batted her lashes and linked her fingers together in front of her. Her shoulders, her spine, everything about her softened. The sudden shift was startling. The girl standing before him didn’t bear a trace of the docks in her.