Amelia listened to the strong heartbeat against her cheek, lulled into a peace she’d never dreamed possible.
Chapter Eleven
Later that afternoon,Clara, Amelia, and Dorian rode along the large, dark loch. The water’s smooth surface reflected the uneasy grey sky and verdant hills surrounding the shores, creating the perfect vista for Clara’s painting. She’d toted her kit all the way from London, and felt it would have been great disservice to not put them to use in a land as gorgeous as Scotland was proving to be.
Clara had borrowed a docile black mare called Starlight from the castle stables for the day. She’d been preoccupied complimenting the horse on the beautiful white star on her velvet-soft nose when she was distracted by Amelia mounting her own horse, Rory, astride. Clara had gasped in delight to realize she wore a specially designed split skirt; however, she only turned to her brother for him to read her mind.
“Absolutely not,” Dori said flatly, correctly predicting that she was about to request her own split skirt for riding.
“But whyever not?”
“Because it is entirely unsuitable for you.”
“Amelia has it andsheis a lady.”
“Yes, but you are my sister and my charge, and I have a say in how you present yourself. I’d not presume to tell Amelia how to dress.”
Clara witnessed a look pass between her brother and Amelia, but neither noticed her perceptiveness. She nearly gave alittle wriggle of excitement. So, she hadn’t been imagining the improved closeness between them. Something had shifted there, and Clara was glad for it; she was bolstered by the appearance of progress and silently vowed to continue what little efforts she could to allow the two of them to be together as much as possible. She could only do so much—the brunt of the work lay with Dori and Amelia, but it seemed they were certainly doing their part.
Amelia and Faye guided them along the path around the expansive loch. Together, the three of them surveyed the scene, taking in the wild Scottish beauty.
“I have never seen anything like this!” Clara exclaimed at the landscape before them. A brief ray of white-gold sunshine flickered through the cloud cover before disappearing once more, briefly teasing their group with the potential for all its unbridled beauty. Clara looked around her brother to ask Amelia if she preferred Scotland to England. “Would you ever consider returning?”
Though he tried to hide it, Clara saw Dori watching Amelia from the corner of his eye, both of them waiting for her response with bated breath. Clara knew, should he be so willing to move his life for Amelia, he wouldn’t be able to conduct his business from afar forever. She knew their family’s holdings and estates; he couldn’t be indefinitely absent and remain an effective marquess. While he and Amelia seemed to have reconciled somewhat and even enjoyed being in one another’s company, how much would he be willing to sacrifice to keep her in his life?
Judging from the way she worried her lower lip between her teeth, Clara strongly suspected similar thoughts were speeding through Amelia’s mind.
Finally, she answered. “I adore my life in Scotland—I love its untamed glory and the beauty of Coylton Castle. I want to raise my son in the land of his father’s family, but I will also respectJames’s wishes and have Archie educated in England—perhaps at Eton and Cambridge. Maybe we will remain in Scotland until he is old enough for formal schooling.”
“Do you miss London?” Clara pressed.
“Some parts. The culture, the parties. I’ve spent some time in Edinburgh, but it was different from London.”
“You must visit us in Town sometime, then,” Clara offered chipperly. “We must return the favor of your generous hospitality.” Clara did not miss the fact that Dorian and Amelia did not meet one another’s eyes; she barely resisted a grin. “Isn’t that right, Dori?” Clara asked sweetly, forcing a response from her brother.
“Of course,” he answered with affected lightness, as if he anticipated greatly the day Amelia would grace the halls of Kempton House.
That evening, Archiewas feeling poorly with an upset stomach, so Amelia spent some time with him in the nursery while Dorian retired to his own chamber, feeling as if the bed was entirely too cold. As he lay there pondering how much more at peace he felt, how much happier he was than when he’d arrived at Coylton Castle, he came to the realization that he did not want any of this to end. A pain the depth of which he’d never quite fully grasped had gradually slipped away from him until he felt as if every breath he took was easier, that every beat of his heart no longer carried with it the same ache.
He loved Amelia.
He would always love Amelia.
This was a law of nature and would forever be one. He’d been foolish to think that there could be any other future ahead of him. Destiny had determined that they would always belong to one another. Life had brought them to this moment in a roundabout way, but he cared not. All that mattered was thatthey’d arrived once more at this inevitable end, and he was nearly stunned by the relief and, yes, even the love he felt for this woman.
When he returned to London, he wanted it to be with the knowledge that Amelia would be his. He would gladly accept Archie as a part of his family, even though he’d likely be battling the little general for Amelia’s attention for the rest of their lives. Anything was worth it to have them as his future.
Dorian and Amelia had already wasted far too much time as it was, so he began making plans to move forward with their life together as quickly as possible.
Amelia had eventually overcome her annoyance at the invitation he’d extended to Brinley, so his friend was scheduled to arrive the day after the dinner party Clara had been fairly chomping at the bit to attend. Dorian was now grateful for Brinley’s arrival, because he fully planned on sharing with him the news of his certain betrothal to the woman who’d escaped him once before. This decision left him feeling lighter than he had in years.
Dorian escorted Ameliaand Clara through the entryway of the recently erected manor house that lay an hour’s carriage ride from Coylton Castle. Situated on the perimeter of a forest like a child’s toy left in the garden, it was a pretty home and created a lovely backdrop for that night’s entertainment.
“I will surely be the envy of every man this evening with two such stunning women on my arms,” he announced.
Though Amelia brushed off the comment, it gave her such a thrill when he said it; even more so when he stared at her. His dark eyes raked over her with slow deliberation, filled with promise and tantalizing innuendo. She’d caught him watching her numerous times on the journey to the party. He had done it so intently that, at one point, she’d been forced to kick his bootedfoot, disguising the gesture with an adjustment of her skirts. He was doing a terrible job of masking his desire in front of Clara in such close quarters.
They’d decided in a rushed, hushed conversation before Clara made her appearance to leave that they not make their affair known for the time being. There had been no promises of a future in that quick conversation, but Amelia believed with everything in her heart that the implications were only favorable for that outcome. It felt like the beginning of a dream to Amelia. Something she’d never believed possible had come to pass, and she was once again falling hopelessly in love with Dorian. As elated as she was, there was still a note of unease prickling within her conscience; her wary heart was terrified of being shattered all over again. She knew she had to trust Dorian, though.
