He chose not to address this. ‘I don’t see that it could possibly answer.’
‘Your sister thinks it might.’
‘My sister is a silly little goose. She wishes nothing but good for me, and I am sensible of it, but she has no knowledge of the world.’
‘Well, perhaps I am a silly little goose too, and perhaps I am also naïve, but I think it could work. As I said to her, I can more readily see that it could help you in your awkward situation than me in mine. My problem may in fact be insurmountable. But at least I’d be doing something positive. I feel so helpless at present.’
‘I can certainly sympathise with that,’ he said with feeling.Helplesswas the perfect word to describe his current situation.
‘I suppose the question is,’ she said lightly, still meeting his eyes with a bright challenge in hers, ‘not whether my plan has any chance of success, but whether you actually want to be rescued.’
7
Amelia had been nervous at the prospect of speaking with Lord Thornfalcon, and alone too, but she had been obliged to own that, as his sister had impressed upon her both last night and on her arrival in Half-Moon Street, she couldn’t really expect to enter into such an extraordinary arrangement with a gentleman without having some private conversation with him first. Their engagement, if it ever happened, would be false and temporary, but there would inevitably be some sort of relationship between them, though it would be an odd connection and not what the world imagined. And so she had not objected when Helena had said firmly that she intended to leave them alone together, and had done so.
He’d been shocked, of course, and had taken her up wrongly, though she had soon set that to rights and he had then apologised for his hasty speech. She didn’t really blame him – it was apparent that he was labouring under a great deal of strain, and she understood that men could sometimes be foolishly reluctant to pay heed to ideas that originated with women. But in the end, he had listened intently enough, a frown creasing his handsome brows. She had meant all along to try to persuade him – her brothers could have given witness to the fact that she could be extraordinarily persuasive – but she had lost patience with the idea when it came to it, and gone straight to the heart of the matter.
Did he want her – or anyone – to set him free, or was the bond with his old love, destructive and dangerous as it was, simply too strong to break?
He was silent in the face of that stark question, and she feared she had overstepped the mark once more and would be obliged to endure another stinging reproach. She could well imagine how his men and junior officers would go to great lengths to avoid incurring his displeasure; he might have been wrong in what he said to her, entirely mistaken in her intentions, and he had been merely lashing out in pain at the object before him, but all that did not render him any the less formidable. And now she had encroached on ground far more personal, without any invitation or excuse, except that her question was the only one that signified. If he really desired to marry his sister-in-law, Amelia was wasting her time, and might as well go home before her good name suffered any further damage from this scandalously unchaperoned meeting.
Against her will, and much to her displeasure, she found that she was trembling slightly. But she would not apologise or back down, having come this far.
He said after a long moment, ‘I suppose that is a reasonable question.’
‘And?’
‘I shall not speak of my feelings with you, except to say that they have been lacerated by what I have undergone since I returned to England and came into society. I do not intend to marryanyoneat the present time, it is the furthest thought from my mind, and nor do I expect to change my fixed purpose in the foreseeable future. You will forgive me if I decline also to be more specific, or to mention any names in connection with your question. I think I have been plain enough.’
Amelia could not fail to notice that he still hadn’t precisely answered her. How stiff he was, though he was sitting to all appearances relaxed in an easy chair. She could not wonder that the caricaturists chose always to portray him in uniform; he seemed to be wearing it mentally, as if he needed it. And perhaps this was all the answer she could expect, and all she needed, since it told her that even if some part of him, or all of him, longed to marry the woman he had once loved, and probably still loved for all she knew, he did not mean to do so. It was not necessary to ask his reasons, since they were sufficiently obvious.
She said gently, pitying him despite his stature and his strength, and hoping she was not showing it too plainly, ‘If you did begin to woo me – to make pretence of wooing me – and then asked for my hand, the ladies who pursue you so would have to stop. Surely they would. There would be an explosion of gossip, at first, at this new and startling event, and perhaps it would be disagreeable for a time, but then it would subside and people would forget their romantic follies.’
‘I wonder if they all would?’ he muttered.
She could give no answer to that, and like him, she would not mention names – a name.
His brow lightened after a moment and he said, regarding her intently, ‘I must be sickening for something. A fever, perhaps. I should send you on your way and call my mother’s quack to come urgently. I find myself on the verge of agreeing to your madcap scheme, even though there is a voice in me that screams that I must not, that I will live to regret it.’
‘If you are hearing voices,’ she said tranquilly, ‘you should definitely call for the doctor, and take his physic, however nasty it is.’ She had won, she thought, but she was clever enough to show no hint of triumph. Her heart was beating unaccountably fast, she now realised – she had been engaged in battle this half-hour, with a worthy opponent, and she had won.
8
A question that had never yet been discussed was whether or not Lady Amelia should tell her brother Rafe, who was after all her guardian, the truth about the course upon which she had embarked. There was no need to commit just now – Lord Thornfalcon had not yet commenced his wooing, which presumably would take some time – but a decision must be reached sooner or later. Rafe would probably disapprove strongly, she thought, and call the scheme crazy, which would be unpleasant. She had no desire to be at odds with him. But on the other hand, when Lord Thornfalcon’s attentions began to be obvious, she didn’t think she could bear to have Rafe labour under the delusion that he’d been right all along, and that patience had been all that she had needed until an eminently suitable husband presented himself. He’d then be hurt and confused when the engagement was inevitably broken off, and it seemed unfair to put him through all that unnecessary turmoil. It was so hard to choose. Perhaps it was cowardly, but she’d decide later.
She and Helena had agreed that they would be fast friends; this was no particular hardship, since they’d liked each other on sight and seemed to share a basic impatience with the currently imperfect way society was organised. She would spend time innocently in Helena’s company, as any friend might, impeccably chaperoned by her aunt and by Helena’s mother, and Lord Thornfalcon would gradually (but not too gradually) come to be sensible of her many attractions. He would then show a growing interest in her. It would all be enormously subtle, they’d agreed between the three of them. Lord Thornfalcon hadn’t evinced any great enthusiasm for the plan, but he had agreed to it, which was what mattered.
Unfortunately, subtlety did not appear to be the currency of the world they moved in. The Dowager Lady Thornfalcon had in unexceptionable fashion invited her old acquaintance Lady Keswick and her niece to accompany her family to the theatre one evening; she had a private box. It was meant to be a quiet sort of a beginning. Though Amelia had as yet had no conversation with Lord Thornfalcon’s mother on the topic, she knew that she had been admitted into the secret by her daughter, and had been delighted with the scheme. Amelia had been given to understand by Helena that her distrust of Lavinia was only exceeded by her mother’s, so the Dowager could scarcely fail to seize on anything which seemed likely to thwart the woman’s plans. Lady Keswick, naturally, remained in complete ignorance, and – Amelia hoped – always would. Her displeasure was not a thing one incurred lightly.
The theatre was noisy and full of activity, and as Amelia took her seat, she could see nothing to concern her about the audience, who were greeting each other and gossiping at full volume, as normal, from the boxes to the pit to the rafters. Nobody was paying their party any particular attention, absorbed as they all were in their own affairs. But when she looked around her as the buzz of voices subsided a little, she made a most unwelcome discovery. She might not be the object of general interest, but she was still being observed. She was not placed next to Lord Thornfalcon – not on their first outing in company – and now she was very glad of it. ‘Your sister-in-law is in the box directly opposite,’ she hissed to her companion.
‘Oh, goodness me,’ said Helena in response, wielding her fan so that it covered her mouth. ‘Let me see. Oh, so she is, and she is glaring at you with excessive fierceness! I must greet her or it will present a most odd appearance. Mother, there is Lavinia, with her parents and her cousin Mr Wilkinson.’
The whole of the party, apart from Amelia, bowed and nodded cordially at the group opposite. It was impossible for them to do any less, and even Lady Keswick was obliged to incline her head in majestic recognition. Amelia, who could not greet someone to whom she had never been introduced, looked down at her lap and wished herself otherwhere. It was true that the lovely woman opposite had shot her a most unfriendly look on first seeing her, though her face had now returned to its habitual cool perfection and she appeared to be conversing with her companions with well-bred ease.
‘I do not see why she should shoot daggers at me in such a fashion,’ she whispered to Helena. ‘Is she really so madly and indiscriminately jealous that a friend of yours cannot even accompany you to the play without provoking her ire?’
‘The problem is, she is always angling to come with us, even though her parents have a perfectly good box of their own, as you can see. Mama is forever putting her off, because it would be so unpleasant for Marcus to be in such proximity with her – you can well believe that she would manoeuvre into sitting next to him, and she would make such a performance of it that nobody would have any eyes for the stage at all. On the one occasion when we were obliged by her shameless behaviour to invite her or be blatantly rude, Marcus developed a sudden head cold on the very day of the expedition and did not come with us. She was quite white with fury when she realised, though she covered it with smiles and attentions to Mama. So the mere fact that you are here, and he is too…’
