A Common Scandal (23 page)

“I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and your parents. You see what it’s done to your mother.”

Her heart tripped, imagining doing such a thing. She would, if she had to. But oh, how she didn’t want to. She’d carry the guilt of it all her days. “I don’t want it either. But it’s all so...” She trailed off helplessly.

He raised her hand to kiss her fingertips. “You won’t have to. It will all work out. Trust me.”

Nate watched Amelia until she shut the parlor door behind herself, and braced himself for his own battle. He’d assured Amelia, but he wasn’t as confident in his heart. Beatrice Wheeler didn’t want him. Josiah Wheeler didn’t want him. No matter how grateful they might be that Nate had gotten Amelia back safely today, he still wasn’t good enough for her.

In the end, he’d marry her, and if that meant eloping, he’d do it, but only as a last resort. Until it became inevitable, he’d use every persuasive argument in his arsenal to convince Wheeler he was the right man for his daughter.

He found the rest of the gentlemen in the library. Josiah Wheeler was in good spirits, pouring brandy and laughing with Lord Tewsbury. Lord Hyde was lighting a cigar by the fireplace. Seeing Nate enter, Hyde straightened, a look of mild discomfort crossing his face. To his credit, he suppressed it, and approached Nate first.

“Mr. Smythe.”

“Lord Hyde.”

Hyde’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “My daughter informs me we’re to enter into a partnership.”

Nate inclined his head. “If it pleases you, Your Lordship.”

Hyde let out a huff of laughter. “As if
I
have anything to say about it. You’ve discussed the business with Julia.”

“I have. In depth.”

“Then you know, when it comes to the business, she has a will of iron.”

Nate chuckled. “Indeed. She’s formidable, in the best possible way. I hope... Please do not think me impertinent, Your Lordship, but...you should be proud of her. She’s remarkable.”

Something like tenderness crossed Hyde’s features. “I thought having a daughter meant being proud when she brought home a good husband.”

“Miss Harrow is not that kind of daughter.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that, Mr. Smythe. Do not mistake me. I am proud of her. I only worry about how the world will treat such an unconventional young woman.”

“I have no doubt Julia can handle it as well as she handles everything else, when she’s ready to let the world know of her accomplishments. And in the meantime, I’m happy to let my company provide her cover.”

“And happy to share in the profits, no doubt.”

Nate shrugged. “She’s quite a businesswoman.”

“Indeed she is.”

“I hope you’re not displeased by our alliance.”

Hyde paused for a moment, examining Nate through a plume of smoke from his cigar. “No, Mr. Smythe, I don’t think I am.”

“You look as if you and Mr. Smythe are hatching a dastardly plot, Hyde.” Lord Tewsbury clapped Hyde on the shoulder.

“I suppose in a way we were. Mr. Smythe and I were discussing the details of our upcoming business partnership.”

Josiah Wheeler’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going into partnership with Nate?”

Hyde cast a furtive glance at Nate, which he immediately understood. Of course, Hyde was singularly unqualified to discuss the company he supposedly helmed.

“Ah, yes,” Nate interjected. “We had quite a bit of time to discuss our overlapping commercial interests at the house party and we determined we could accomplish more if we combine our fleets than we can separately.”

“Well, shall we toast to your new venture?” Tewsbury suggested.

“Indeed. To its prolonged success,” Hyde said with a smirk.

Nate inhaled deeply and turned to face Josiah Wheeler. Now, in the flush of his alliance with the Earl of Hyde, was probably the best moment to press his case he’d ever have. “Mr. Wheeler, might I have a word?”

Wheeler scowled and sighed, knowing exactly what was coming, but unable to refuse Nate, not on this day.

He excused himself to Hyde and Tewsbury and motioned for Nate to follow him into his office, which adjoined the library. Wheeler circled behind his desk, bracing his hands on the polished mahogany surface, as Nate shut the door behind himself.

“I think you know what I’m about to say,” he said to the older man.

“You want to marry Amelia.”

“And she wants to marry me.”

Wheeler shook his head in weary confusion. “When I left Tewsmere, she seemed to have things nearly wrapped up with that Radwill chap. What happened?”

Nate scoffed softly. “Radwill’s no match for Amelia and I think he knew it. She did, too. It didn’t matter once we realized how we felt about each other.”

“And that is?”

“Sir?”

“If this is simply a matter of, ahem, desire. Or if you’ve compromised my girl in some way...”

Nate bit the inside of his cheek. Well, yes, he rather
had
compromised Amelia. But it was
her
idea and here he was, groveling to her father to make it all neat and proper. He cleared his throat. “It’s a great deal more than desire, sir. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“Because you were playmates as children? A few fond childhood memories aren’t enough to justify marriage.”

“But being in love with her is.”

Wheeler eyed him speculatively. “You love her?”

“Yes. Deeply.”

“And she loves you?”

Nate tried to suppress his grin and failed. “I believe she does. Yes, sir.”

“I’m not sure it’s enough.”

He coughed. “Pardon?” He’d been convinced Wheeler’s questions were only his way of talking himself into accepting the inevitable. But he might be determined to refuse his consent after all.

“Her mother has rather rigid ideas about Amelia’s marriage, about who’s right for her and her future.”

“With all due respect to Mrs. Wheeler, the man who loves Amelia is the right one for her.”

Wheeler held up his hands. “Mr. Smythe, you’ve convinced me of your worth. You’ve raised yourself up from your unfortunate beginnings, just as I had to do. You’ve built a successful business, and now you’ve managed this rather enviable alliance with Lord Hyde. You’re a man who can see to himself, and I admire you for it.”

“Thank you.”

“But my wife is another matter. She lost a great deal when she married me, things I couldn’t give back to her, no matter how much I earned. Understand me. It’s not pride. It’s fear for Amelia’s future. And since...” Wheeler momentarily broke off, heaving a breath and looking down at the carpet. “Since it’s unlikely she’ll live long enough to see for herself how Amelia’s marriage turns out, she must be made comfortable with her choice of husband from the start. Otherwise I fear she will worry herself into the grave that much sooner.”

Nate turned that over for a moment. “So if your wife approves...”

“If she approves, then of course you have my approval. You proved yourself more than worthy today.”

“Well, we’ll have to convince her.”

“It won’t be easy,” Wheeler warned. “Despite your fortune and the personal charms Amelia has seen in you, you’ve very little to offer that will impress Beatrice.”

“I love your daughter and I’m in a position to care for her well for the rest of her days. What more can she want?”

“Do you have any family?”

The knife of his grief had dulled with time, but it was still capable of inflicting pain. “No, I don’t.”

“And you have no title, no connections.”

“You know I don’t.”

“Then your marriage won’t win back Beatrice’s family. Indeed, it will likely push them even further away.”

“And that’s her concern?”

“It’s her only concern. That Amelia not be left alone. And your business, as successful as it has been, carries a certain amount of risk. Ships go down at sea all the time. What if such a fate were to befall you? It’s all Beatrice will see when she considers you—not your money or your commercial alliances, no matter how esteemed.”

“I see.” Grimly, Nate turned the problem over in his mind, unable to see an easy solution. He could marry Amelia, carry her away and elope with her. And it would break her beloved mother’s heart. He couldn’t do it, even to secure the woman he loved. No, this was not a problem to be solved with ruthless determination, like a difficult business deal. This would require charm, finesse and a bit of luck.

He raised his chin. “I’m not giving up. Amelia won’t either. She doesn’t take well to being thwarted.”

Wheeler sighed. “I know it well. And I suppose in the end, she’ll marry you with or without our consent, even if it means eloping.”

“It does.”

“Well, I rather hope you succeed, Mr. Smythe. Lord Radwill would have been an esteemed name to connect to our family, but I suspect you’re much more enjoyable to talk to at mealtimes. I’d like having you in the family. Good luck to you.”

* * *

He found Amelia as soon as the gentlemen adjourned to the parlor. He forced a smile, trying not to let her see he was troubled, but Amelia knew him too well. Her eyes narrowed at him, even as she carried on her polite conversation with Julia.

When Julia excused herself to talk to her father, she pressed him for an explanation.

“What did he say?”

Nate sighed. “In short, it’s up to your mother.”

“What?”

“He worries what the disappointment will do to her health, and he won’t chance upsetting her. And he says she’s unlikely to approve of me when I have no family or connections to offer you.”

Amelia considered this for a moment, her face creased with worry. “I know what she fears, and looking at it from her point of view, you’re about the worst man I could have chosen to marry.

“Well, that’s encouraging.”

“Not that it matters. You know I love a good challenge. Only...what are we going to do now?”

Nate smiled and reached for her hand. “I’ll have to win her over. How hard can it be?”

Chapter Twenty

The next afternoon, Amelia was sitting with her mother as Nate read aloud from Mama’s novel. It had been her idea, when he’d come to call on her this morning. Her mother was never going to accept the
idea
of Nate. She’d have to be won over by the man himself, as Amelia had been. After all, Nate was fairly irresistible.

Her mother hadn’t done anything as rude as refusing his company. In fact, she’d been quite gracious and polite. On the whole, she seemed to find Nate charming. But Amelia could read the signs, the little indicators of her disapproval. A charming afternoon companion was one thing. A husband to her daughter was quite another.

Amelia had set up her little portable writing desk on a small table next to Beatrice’s couch, writing letters as Nate read. She had so much to tell everyone. Genevieve had come this morning and been told the whole epic tale, but Victoria and Grace needed letters and it would take a novel to relay it all. She missed them both now more than ever. Her happiness felt incomplete if she couldn’t share it with them.

When Nate reached the end of his chapter, he closed the book. “I’m afraid I have to take my leave now. I’ve got a meeting with Ju—Lord Hyde this afternoon, about our upcoming partnership.”

Amelia rose to her feet. “You shouldn’t have stayed this long. I know you have so much work to attend to after being away at the house party all week.”

“I’m happy to make time for you, Amelia.”

“Mother, I’ll see Nate out and I’ll be right back.”

Downstairs, after retrieving his coat and hat from the footman, he turned and took her hands in his.

“Courage, Amelia. It will take some time. And I can wait as long as it takes.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Time is something in short supply with Mother. I won’t give you up, you know. No matter what.”

He grinned and raised her hand, kissing her knuckles, and lingered there, his lips hovering above her skin, his breath warming her fingers, his index finger languidly caressing her palm, until she began to squirm with thwarted desire. “I won’t either. Now, I’d better go. Julia has a great many plans and I already doubt our ability to get through them in an afternoon.”

“It’s not fair to accost my hand that way without accosting the rest of me.”

“Oh, I’ll accost you.” His eyes flamed with need and Amelia felt her whole body respond to him. Perhaps they could pop into the parlor and lock the door... “But not today.”

“You’re a cruel man.”

He chuckled and leaned in. “Only for the moment. Soon, darling.”

Amelia grudgingly accepted his kiss on her cheek before returning to her mother’s room.

Upstairs, Constance had just finished helping her mother to her bed, propping her against the pillows. She leaned back against the door as Constance bustled around her, setting things to right.

“Constance, will you give us a moment? I need to speak with Mother.”

Constance nodded her head. “Of course, ma’am.”

Amelia came forward, settling on the edge of the bed and taking her hand as she’d done countless times in the past.

“This Mr. Smythe,” her mother began. “I’m not sure encouraging him is the best idea, Amelia.”

Amelia inhaled deeply, bracing herself for a dose of honesty her mother wasn’t going to welcome. “Of course I’m encouraging him, Mama. I mean to marry him.”

Beatrice’s face crumpled. “Oh, Amelia. Please... do reconsider. I know you have feelings for him. That much is obvious. But there is more at stake here than affection. More than you can realize at your age. He can’t give you what a man with a title could.”

“I’m sorry, Mama. I did try. But when I met Nate again, it was too big for either one of us to deny. Thank heaven. Otherwise I’d be tied for life to a man I didn’t love while I let Nate walk away from me.”

“Life is about more than love. I learned that myself when I was younger than you. Things can be lost that love, no matter how great, can’t restore to you.”

Amelia lifted her mother’s other hand from the coverlet, holding them both firmly in hers and looking Beatrice in the eyes. “Mama, are you sorry you married Papa because he doesn’t have a title?”

Her mother drew back, eyes wide with shock. “Of course not. How can you think such a thing?”

“Because you seem to be sure I’ll be unhappy without a title. Mama, you have to trust me. I know myself. And I know Nate, almost as well as I know myself. There’s no one else on earth who could make me happy, no other man I can imagine spending my life with. It would be true if he was a prince or the lowliest sailor in Portsmouth.”

Beatrice smiled wanly. “You’re my daughter, through and through, making all the same headstrong choices. But darling, I’ve lived with the consequences, and I can see the risks involved here. Yes, he’s handsome, and he’s certainly charming. He clearly cares for you a great deal. And he’s made quite a bit for himself all on his own, which speaks to his intelligence and character.”

“You acknowledge he’s kind, smart, handsome and rich. What else is there?”

“Family. Connections. I won’t always be here, and neither will your father. And your Mr. Smythe is a sailor without a single connection. What if the day comes when he doesn’t return home?”

Amelia closed her eyes, unwilling to even imagine such a horrific possibility.

“Who would you have then?” Beatrice continued. “Who would care for your welfare?”

She wanted to assert that she could see to her own welfare, thank you very much, but she knew in her bones it would do no good. Her mother was driven by a deep fear, made acute by her sense of her own foreshortened mortality. Reason and bravery had no power in the face of such fear.

Only one thing would set Beatrice’s mind at ease on this score. Amelia needed to turn up a family. And that meant she had a most unpleasant visit to pay.

“Mama, don’t trouble yourself about my welfare.”

“It’s all I worry about, Amelia.”

“I know. And I mean to set your mind at ease on that score. Now you rest. I’ve got to call on someone this afternoon.”

Beatrice sank back into the pillows and closed her eyes, perhaps imagining Amelia was thinking seriously and pragmatically about her future. Let her think it if it brought her comfort. Amelia had no intention of changing anything about her future. But there was something she needed to do about the past.

She went to her room and changed clothes, choosing her most stylish French walking suit in claret wool, and her favorite broad-brimmed hat, trimmed in velvet roses and silk ribbons. She took care with her hair, smoothing every stray curl, before donning her finest red kid gloves.

Ten minutes later, she found herself standing on the porch of an ostentatious Mayfair town house, only a few short blocks from her own home. Funny, that. It might as well have been on another planet for all the contact she’d had with its occupants.

She rang the bell and in moments, a footman in old-fashioned, heavily braided livery opened the door. She handed over her card.

“Miss Wheeler to see Lady Leath.”

“I’m afraid Lady Leath is not receiving guests today.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s not. Tell her it’s the niece she’s disowned. That should get her moving.”

“Please wait here,” he murmured, ushering her into the entryway and withdrawing. She was counting on Lady Leath’s horror of servants’ gossip to ensure an audience. Almost no one in London Society had realized Amelia and Lady Leath were related. Her mother’s elopement with her father happened a generation before and her mother had left London afterward. By the time Amelia made her debut in London many years later, Mother was too ill to socialize, and they never crossed paths. No one seemed to make the connection between them and she was sure Lady Leath didn’t want them to.

A moment later the footman returned to usher her into the house. She’d guessed right. Anything to avoid word of her existence getting out. Viscount Leath’s town house was every inch as staid and formal as his footman, marble-floored and crammed full of gilt-framed pictures, grand Chinese vases and heavy mahogany furniture. It was an overbearing testimony to their sense of their own importance.

She was shown into a parlor as overdecorated as the rest of the house. For a sitting room, it was terribly uncomfortable. Not a place one would wish to spend any time. Lady Leath sat stiffly in an armchair. Her husband, Lord Leath, stood near the hearth. They looked as cold and unyielding as the great china vases flanking the fireplace.

Amelia dropped into her perfect curtsy and bowed her head, the last bit of etiquette she planned to observe.

“Good afternoon, Lord Leath, Lady Leath.”

“Good day, Miss Wheeler,” Lord Leath said. He was a good deal older than his wife, somewhere in his late sixties, with thinning silver hair, grizzled muttonchop sideburns thicker than the hair on his head and a face deeply carved with frown lines, as if he’d never employed another expression in the whole of his life. “I’m not sure what has prompted this visit, but if it’s a request for funds—”

She let out a bark of laughter that cut him off. “No, I don’t need any money. I’ve got loads of that. And my business is with Lady Leath, Your Lordship, not you.”

“Whatever you have to say to my wife is my concern, as well.”

What a sour old stick-in-the-mud. She turned to Lady Leath, her closest relative outside her parents, a woman she’d never exchanged two words with. Up close, her resemblance to her sister was startling. She was taller, and a little younger, and a prolonged illness hadn’t withered her beauty. It was a wrenching reminder of why Amelia had come.

“Lady Leath, I’ve come to tell you I’m going to be married soon. You’ll get an invitation, of course, because Mother would wish it, although if it was up to me I’d leave you both off the list. Still, I’ll do it to make her happy, because she probably won’t live to see another year.”

Lady Leath’s eyes went wide with shock and the color drained from her face. She opened her mouth to say something and glanced quickly at her husband. Whatever she meant to say died on her tongue. She stayed silent as Lord Leath glared like a stone gargoyle.

“You have our congratulations, Miss Wheeler,” Lord Leath said by rote. “Now if you’ll excuse us—”

Amelia barreled on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Yes, I didn’t expect that news would move you to action when nothing else has in twenty years. I’m sure you won’t come to the wedding. After all, I’m marrying a mere
Mr.
Smythe. Far beneath your notice, to be sure.”

“Miss Wheeler—” Lord Leath rumbled, his voice a warning.

Amelia didn’t spare a glance at him as she carried on. “You know, I nearly married a viscount myself. Heir to an earl. I didn’t love him, not even a little. I was doing it for Mother’s sake, because if I was a viscountess, you’d be forced to acknowledge me, and perhaps I could give my mother back her sister. Lord knows why, but your separation still pains her. Thank heavens I came to my senses and I’m marrying the man I love. Because marrying a viscount to get your attention would have been very foolish indeed, wouldn’t it?”

Lady Leath’s hand fluttered at the base of her throat. She still seemed incapable of speech.

“But I’ll come to my point and stop wasting your time. My mother’s only real objection to my future husband is that he doesn’t come with a family. And because you cast her off twenty years ago, she hasn’t got one to give me either. I don’t care in the least. I very much doubt we’ve lacked for not having a couple of overly proud, hidebound snobs like you in our lives. But for some reason, you still matter to her.

“I mean to marry Mr. Smythe one way or another. It would provide my mother with a bit of comfort to know in doing so, I wasn’t consigning myself to a future without any relations. You’ve proved to be quite a shoddy family thus far, but you’re all I’ve got to work with. Now...” Amelia paused and took a deep breath, adjusting her gloves, which she’d never bothered to remove. She hadn’t even sat down. “I’ve said what I came to say. You know her situation. I’m curious to see, does your obsession with rank go so far that you’d let your sister die without a word from you?”

“What sort of a response am I to make to that accusation?” Lord Leath boomed, taking a step toward Amelia. Lady Leath flinched.

Amelia rounded on him. “I’m not asking for a response from
you
. I was speaking to your
wife
.”

“Her concerns are my concerns.”

Understanding dawned on Amelia and her eyes cut between Lord Leath and his wife. Lady Leath was staring at the pattern in the carpeting. “I see. You’re not the one obsessed with rank,” Amelia said to her. “He is. Well, I am sorry for you, Lady Leath. You might be the sister who married a title, but my mother married the better man.”

Lord Leath drew himself up, all cold, forbidding outrage. “How dare you—”

“You might have your wife under your thumb, Your Lordship, but you don’t have me, so save your breath.” She turned to Lady Leath again. “It’s up to you now. You know where to find her. I suspect you always have.”

She dipped into another curtsy so perfect, it was virtually a mockery of the act. “Good day to both of you. I’ll see myself out.”

Amelia marched out the way she’d come. Lady Leath had never spoken a word.