“That is precisely what I told him, but he would not hear any of it. As my guardian, he expects me to do as I have been told.” Amelia’s chin quivered as she battled with her fresh wounds. Uncle Lewis had been stern in his command, storming from the room when she attempted to sway him. She drew in a deep breath. “Tell me there is something we can do.”
Amelia fixed her eyes on Sarah’s and waited for her to speak. With every fiber of her soul, she willed Sarah to find a solution.
“What if we could secure a chaperone to watch over you? Do you think he would grant you more time?”
Amelia smiled for the first time in over a fortnight. “Sarah, you are an angel. That may well work. Leastwise it will provide a good temporary solution.”
Sarah’s eyes twinkled when she looked at Amelia. “What about her grace, the dowager Duchess of Abernathy? She is widowed with no pressing responsibilities and is a friend of your family’s is she not?” She stopped speaking long enough to draw a breath. “Perhaps I can appeal to her on your behalf?”
Amelia’s heart soared as her hope rekindled. She clasped Sarah’s kid glove covered hands. “This will work. The duchess has attended every social affair my family ever hosted. She sponsored my introduction to society, and even presented me to the Queen. But of course you already know all of this. The request would be harder for her to deny coming from my own lips. I must ask her grace myself.”
As Sarah stood and moved to the hearth, her earrings danced with the movement. “That is outlandish. You are in mourning. It would make for a grand scandal if you went about visiting. You already created a small scandal by attending your father’s burial. Every tongue in London would be wagging if you went out calling.”
Amelia could not argue with Sarah’s reasoning. It would not do any good to feed the gossip mills--not yet, at any rate. She needed Uncle Lewis and the duchess to honor her request. No doubt a grand scandal would have the opposite effect on their sensibilities.
“What if we take your carriage to the widow’s townhouse? No one will suspect I am inside. Even if they do, they will not have any proof. Not if we keep the curtain drawn.”
“We can send your calling card to the door alerting her grace to your presence. With any luck, she will come join us in the carriage,” Sarah replied, a conspiratorial sparkle lighting her eyes.
“It is settled then. I will ring for our coats, and if anyone asks, we will say we are going for a ride in Hyde Park.
* * * *
The ride to the duchess’s passed without event. Amelia failed to notice the sounds and smells of London as they traversed down Piccadilly Street. She only took notice of their arrival when the carriage halted on St. James Square in front of Abernathy House.
Sarah knocked on the window behind her, then handed her footman both of their calling cards before dispatching him to the widow’s door. Her grace’s grand townhouse towered three stories high, with large windows and a beautiful garden sprawling around it. Amelia studied the exterior of the townhouse through a crack in the curtain, ornate with various types of embellishments and a slate roof. One would be hard-pressed not to realize her wealth and station based on its appearance alone. Her stomach knotted with anticipation. What if she refused Amelia’s request? She looked at Sarah for a distraction.
Sarah fiddled with her skirts, a worried expression pulling at her features. “I do hope she joins us out here in the carriage.”
Amelia worried at her lower lip.
The duchess had plenty of experience with the rituals of mourning and proper decorum. She would come out. If not, Amelia would go in. What other choice did she have?
Relief swept through Amelia as the carriage door opened, admitting the Duchess of Abernathy, Grace Stratton, who promptly seated herself directly across from Amelia. Concern clouded the duchess’s brown eyes, and she patted her strawberry blond tresses gathered at the back of her head. “Good day, ladies. I would ask how you are doing, Amelia, but I fear I already know. Instead let me ask, how may I help?”
Amelia’s palms became tacky, and her pulse hastened as she willed the words to come. “Your Grace, it is with deep respect that I have come to ask for your support in an imperative matter,” She paused to collect her thoughts.
Grace nodded and reached for her hand. “Please go on, dear. Out with it.”
Amelia risked a glance at Sarah, who gave her the slightest nod. She directed her attention back to the duchess. “I would be forever in debt to you if you could see it in your heart to assist me. You see… my Uncle Lewis has ordered me to move to America.”
“Oh my. That is dreadful. And so soon to boot.” Grace’s hand fluttered to her chest.
Amelia swallowed and bowed her head, unable to focus on the duchess. “He says I must leave in one week’s time.”
“Oh dear.” She squeezed Amelia’s hand. “Tell me, how I may be of help.”
With some effort, Amelia glanced up at her. “It is my hope that, by securing a chaperone, I may delay my departure.”
“You most certainly would need one if you were to stay on in England.” Grace’s narrow lips turned up in slow degrees. “Amelia, am I correct in assuming you are asking me to be your chaperone?”
“That is exactly what Lady Amelia is asking,” Sarah answered, her voice filled with mirth.
Grace gave a gentle squeeze to Amelia’s hand. “I would be happy to help, assuming the arrangement is agreeable to your uncle. I do not suppose he knows you are here?”
Amelia nodded her head as guilt panged within her breast. “He hasn’t the faintest idea, nor does he know I am actively seeking a chaperone.”
A slight blush crept across Lady Sarah’s cheeks. “That presents a whole new problem. Now that you have agreed to chaperone Amelia, we must get her uncle on board with the arrangement. However, we cannot tell him she called on you. Due to the impropriety of it, of course.”
