Chapter 2
A team of servants flowed from the house, but Wellworth was not there to welcome his guests. His butler greeted her parents and announced in a haughty voice, “Major Wellworth has been called away on urgent farm business and will not return until teatime. He sends his compliments and begs you to make yourselves comfortable.”
The interior of Wellworth’s Palladian-inspired home was well-appointed and in the latest fashion, as Amelia’s mother had predicted. A Classical painting decorated the ceiling of its grand foyer, and a huge fireplace, with a roaring log fire, heated that vaulted space. A Christmas garland of holly studded with red berries lay across the mantelpiece. Vases of flamboyant hothouse flowers glowed vivid red in each corner of the room.
The housekeeper led the way to their chambers and informed them that tea would be served in the drawing room in an hour’s time.
Their host still hadn’t returned when they assembled for tea. The butler delivered a message in his master’s handwriting, saying that he was unfortunately further delayed by farm business, but would have the pleasure of their company at dinner.
After the French doors closed behind the butler with a light click, Amelia’s mother examined the room and gave a nod of satisfaction. “You will have such a beautiful home,” she said.
“Will, mother? It’s already arranged, no matter what I want?” The situation was far worse than she had thought! Dread balled in her gut, constricted her lungs, robbed her of breath.
“Weddings don’t take long to organise, especially when there is no reason for delay by either party. And wouldn’t a Christmas wedding be romantic? You’ll make such an attractive bride in your white silk,” her mother answered.
Amelia gulped. That was it. She could not stay. Her parents would not succeed in forcing her to marry a man she had never met, one who was too busy to even meet them when they arrived. “Mother, I wish to lie down and rest. I’ll make sure I’m ready in time for dinner.”
“Of course, my dear. Wear your newest evening dress to meet Major Wellworth. I’ll come up in good time to assist you,” her mother responded.
Her cheeks hot, Amelia smiled and nodded. It pained her to lie to her parents, but she would not marry an old and crippled man. No fortune could be worththatdegree of sacrifice!
Aunt Lavinia had insisted Amelia come to her if the situation with her parents became unbearable. This was the first time she had ever thought to take up that offer. Wasn’t being married off to this man suitably unbearable? A rush of affection for her great-aunt warmed her heart.
Amelia guessed she had about an hour to get back to the posting inn at the nearest village to catch the afternoon coach to Bath. She must be long gone before her mother arrived to supervise her dressing.
Inside her room, Amelia stuffed a plain dress and underclothing into a small bandbox, then pulled her winter redincoat over her day dress, checked that the corridor outside was empty, and hurried downstairs.
Amelia reached the grandiose foyer without encountering even a housemaid. Neither the hall porter nor the butler were anywhere to be seen. She opened the heavy front door and slipped out into the crisp afternoon air.
After about half an hour’s hurried walk along the entrance avenue, Amelia reached the drive gates. The cold of the fallen snow seeped through her leather boots and woollen stockings until her feet burned and ached with every step. Her sodden skirt slapped against her boots as she trudged along the muddy verge for another ten minutes. At last the village came into view. And there was the coaching inn.
To enter its coffee lounge, she needed to pass the door of the public bar.
A shabbily dressed man lurched from within. He grabbed her arm, and slurred, “Just what the doctor ordered—a pretty young miss!” His beer-laden breath assailed her nose.
She tugged her arm. “Let go!”
He didn’t loosen his hold.
She tried to twist out of his grip. Her throat constricted with fear. “Landlord!” Amelia tried to cry out, but only a hoarse rasp escaped.
The wretch dragged her closer. Closer to his reddened, blue-veined face. Closer to his slack, wet lips ready to kiss her.
Amelia lashed out at him with her free hand. Her palm connected with his face.
“Damn you.” He tugged her against him.
Oh god, surely this time he would succeed!Her whole body strained away from his tight hold. Her heart pounded fit to burst through her chest.
The kiss never happened.
A large hand slammed onto the brute’s shoulder and pulled him from her, before another fist landed a punch on her assailant’s unshaven chin. The man slumped to the floor. The newcomer lifted him by his coat lapels and deposited his groggy form onto a nearby bench.
Her rescuer turned to her. The most striking man she had ever seen stood before her. His dark eyes glittered with anger. His country clothes highlighted his muscled form, making him look the epitome of a well-made gentleman.
She dragged gasps of air into her lungs and her rapid breathing slowed.
“Are you injured?” he asked. A furrow of concern ran between his dark brown eyebrows and he gave a reassuring smile.
