All of the humor disappeared from Amelia’s face, and she sent him a furious glare. David met her gaze coolly. Was she honestly expecting him to take her side in this? He knew Charles Newport well enough. The man was irresponsible and had a reputation for draining money from his family. He’d sooner see Amelia wedded to a wolf than a man like the viscount.
“I quite agree,” her mother echoed.
But the tight look on Amelia’s face held more than anger. Her fists were clenched against the cushions, and she looked ready to tell him to go to the devil.
He sent her a smile, but in her eyes, he saw war brewing.
Amelia stood inside the ballroom, fuming inwardly. She knew that she ought not to say anything to Lord Castledon. A proper lady like Margaret would never dream of it. But even three days later, she was still angry with him for insinuating to her mother that Lord Lisford was a bad marital choice. True, the viscount had made countless mistakes. But she had caught a glimpse of a good man on their drive the other morning. Beneath his practiced words and suave manner was a man in great need of a woman’s love.
Amelia believed, in her heart, that she could help Charles Newport. He could be redeemed, even after all that he’d done.
Her sister Victoria, the Duchess of Worthingstone, was hosting tonight’s soirée, and Amelia had managed an invitation for Lady Sarah, though she hadn’t told Toria why. If somehow Lady Sarah met the gentleman of her dreams, it would solve everything. Assuming the woman didn’t resort to blackmail.
Logic told her to inform the Duke of Worthingstone. He couldhave Lady Sarah brought up on charges of blackmail, if needed. But, as the woman had said, there was no tangible proof.
Once again, Amelia dug deep with her instincts, trying to determine the woman’s character. Lady Sarah didn’t seem to be the sort of person who would resort to criminal behavior—more of a woman trying to escape a fate she didn’t want.
Please let this end, Amelia prayed. Having a conversation with her sisters about a possible scandal that would drag all of their names into ruin was the very last thing she needed. She wanted to handle it herself, and perhaps if Lady Sarah won her freedom, all would be well.
It was early, and the dancing had not yet begun. Many of the guests mingled in the ballroom, while others were enjoying the unseasonably warm weather out of doors. Thus far, she hadn’t seen Lady Sarah, but that didn’t mean the woman wasn’t already here.
Amelia crossed the stone terrace and spied Lord Castledon. He was standing on the bottom step of the terrace that led out to a walled garden. As always, he wore black. She doubted if the man had a single color in his wardrobe. As soon as he saw her, he gave a slight bow. “Miss Andrews.”
Amelia beckoned for him to walk with her, not wanting to cause a scene. When they were a short distance away from the other guests, she asked, “Why did you side with my mother against Lord Lisford?”
“Do we really have to have this conversation now?” he countered. “It’s a lovely evening, and your sister was gracious enough to invite me to her home. Perhaps you should consult the list I gave you and speak to one of those gentlemen.”
Amelia tried to gather her patience, but she was so frustrated, she couldn’t bear to be patronized. “I gaveyoua list of young ladiesin good faith. Any one of them would be perfect to serve as a wife and mother to your daughter. I tried to help you, but you—”
“I helped you as well.” He cut her off, offering her his arm. “I simply added a few names by way of warning.”
She took a deep breath, realizing that he was completely unaware of how he’d sabotaged her during their tea. Or possibly, he was indifferent to the damage he’d done.
“I have been in love with Charles Newport for the past four years,” she informed him. Though “love” was probably too strong of a word, it sounded better than to admit she had pined for him in the corner. “I know the sort of man he is, and I believe he can change his ways,” she finished.
“No. You don’t love him.” His tone suddenly went dark, and his expression turned cold in a way she’d never seen before. Amelia stopped walking. She’d never seen him angry before, and his affable manner had vanished. “You don’t know the meaning of love.”
She was about to argue, but he wouldn’t allow her to speak. “You believe love is about silly words and compliments.”
“No, I don’t—”
“You know nothing of what it is.” Now there was more in his voice than anger. It was a bleakness, a sense that he’d locked away years of grief. Never before had she caught a glimpse of the man behind his mask of loss. Lord Castledon had always been a brooding sort, but this was different.
In his piercing blue eyes, she saw a man who was furious with the world and with her. He looked nothing like a man with the personality of a handkerchief or a man who remained on the outskirts, like a wall hedge. He took a step forward, staring down at her as if he resented the ground she walked upon.
“Love is holding the hand of the woman you worship, praying to God that the next breath won’t be her last. It’s watching her wasteaway, unable to eat or drink, and praying for a miracle that doesn’t happen.” His mouth was tight with such desolation, she wondered how many years he’d held it all inside. “It’s wondering how you’ll ever manage a single minute without her…and knowing that you’ll have to, for the sake of the child she gave you.”
Her throat closed up, and there were no words that would ease him. Amelia felt the edge of tears threatening, and she finally managed to say, “I’m sorry for what happened. But do you think this is the life Lady Castledon would have wanted for you and your daughter? Hiding away from the world?”
The rigid tension in his jaw never softened. “I never wanted this life at all. I still don’t want another wife. Katherine can’t be replaced by anyone.”
“I’m certain the ladies on that list will be glad to hear of it,” she said quietly. “Knowing that they will forever be confined to the ground while the memory of your first wife rests on a pedestal.”
It was cruel, but after he’d struck out at her own dreams, she couldn’t stop herself.
“You’re too young to understand,” he countered. “Go on, then. Make a fool of yourself in front of a man who hasn’t a responsible bone in his body.”
“I don’t know why you’re even bothering to make pretenses.” Amelia crossed her arms and regarded him. “If you don’t want another wife, then don’t marry. Send your daughter to live with an aunt or someone who will show her how to be a young lady.” Softening her tone, she suggested, “Margaret could teach her every last rule of society. But you needn’t wed her for that.”
