Awakening Amelia (22 page)

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Authors: Kate Pearce

Tags: #historical romance

BOOK: Awakening Amelia
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“If you intend to confront Captain Fury together, I suggest you stay together at all times.” The duke also rose. “Perhaps you might invite Jack and his wife to stay at Stortford House?”

“I certainly don’t intend to stay at my father’s residence.” Jack reached for his wife’s hand. “And I have no house of my own.”

Amelia curtsied. “Then you are both more than welcome to stay with us.”

“And you will inform me if and when you meet with Captain Fury,” The duke stated. “If things go wrong I might be able to help.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jack swept the duke a deep bow.

“Get along with you.” The duke stepped back. “May I suggest you use the back entrance? I don’t wish to entertain my guests with any more unscripted dramatics.”

Marcus bowed to the duchess. “I do apologize, Your Grace.”

“You are forgiven.” The duchess offered him a warm smile. “I am simply glad that you and Jack are reunited and on the same side.”

Marcus wasn’t quite sure that was the truth, but he smiled anyway and left with the Llewellyns. If he found out that Jack was in league with Captain Fury, he would kill him. Of that he had no doubt at all.

Chapter 15

“My lady.”

Amelia looked up as the butler opened the front door for her. After all the excitement at the duke’s residence, she was glad to return to her own home, albeit with two guests she suspected her husband wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Whatever Marcus had said to the duke, she knew he’d follow his own path. She even admired him for it.

Jack wasn’t stupid, and she’d also sensed a deep wariness in him that reminded her of Marcus. God help them both if they found themselves on different sides again. She doubted either of them would come out of such an encounter alive.

“Good afternoon, Foster. Will you ask the housekeeper to prepare a bedchamber for our guests Lord Jack Llewellyn and his wife?”

Jack cleared his throat and said softly, “I don’t use that title anymore, my lady, my father disinherited me.”

Carys pinched his sleeve. “But you should start getting used to hearing it again, my love, because when this matter is cleared up you will be exonerated.”

Jack fought a smile and bowed to his wife and Amelia. “As you wish, my lady.”

Amelia nodded and carried on speaking to the butler as they progressed into the hall. “And please bring some tea to the drawing room immediately.”

“My lady—”

“What is it?”

“You already have a guest awaiting you in the drawing room.”

“And who might that be?” Marcus was now alongside her and asked the question.

“The Marquess of Leyton, my lord.”

Amelia almost stumbled and Marcus put a restraining hand on her arm. “Jack, would you mind waiting in my study while my wife and I deal with this unexpected visitor?”

“We wouldn’t mind at all. Perhaps Foster can show us the way.”

“Thank you,” Marcus called out as Jack and Carys went down the hallway with the butler.

Amelia drew in a steadying breath. “You do not have to accompany me.”

“You can hardly imagine I would allow you to face your father alone?”

“Allow?”

“Expect then.”

“I didn’t think he would bestir himself to visit us here.”

Marcus took her hand and placed it on his sleeve as they mounted the stairs. “I believe this gives us the advantage. If we don’t like his attitude, we can have him thrown out on the street.”

Amelia fought a hysterical desire to laugh at the image of her autocratic father being thrown anywhere. At the closed doorway, Marcus paused and lowered his voice.

“I will attempt to leave the discussion in your hands, but if his behavior becomes untenable, you must give me leave to intervene and defend you.”

She met his dark blue gaze and nodded.

“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, have at him.”

Amelia opened the doors and saw her father standing by the fire, his feet planted firmly on the hearthrug and his hands behind his back. His brown hair was peppered with white, making his sallow skin more noticeable. The lines of disapproval that had always bracketed the sides of his mouth and his brow had deepened, leaving his expression dour.

“Amelia.”

She managed to curtsey and walk toward him. “Father. May I introduce my husband, Major, Lord Marcus Stortford?”

“Edward’s son. Now the Earl of Havering in your father’s place.”

“Yes, my lord.” Marcus inclined his head a mere inch.

“Believed killed in Spain.”

“That is correct.”

“Is that where you met my daughter?”

“No, my lord. I met her in England.”

The marquess nodded. “I am glad to make your acquaintance, Havering.”

“Thank you, sir.” Marcus made a gesture with his hand. “Would you care to sit down? We can order some tea.”

“Thank you but I have no intention of staying. I just wished to introduce myself.” He looked toward the door. “I must be off.”

Amelia stepped in front of him. “Have you nothing further to say to me?”

He halted and looked down his nose at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“You haven’t seen me for almost a decade.”

“Due to your own stupid folly.”

“Then, am I now
forgiven
?”

The marquess’s cold gaze lingered on her face. “I came to speak to your new husband. I do not require either your apologies for your appalling conduct or your presence.” He looked back at Marcus. “You may bring your wife to our house for our next at home on Thursday. We will receive you both and put an end to any question that our two families are not united.”

He bowed, walked around Amelia and headed for the exit. Without a word, Marcus followed him out, shutting the door quietly behind him. For a second, Amelia stood, shaking with a strange combination of humiliation and anger. Her father had always treated his womenfolk as if they were chess pieces to be moved or abandoned at his pleasure. His refusal to acknowledge her now was nothing new. But she wasn’t the same person and she
refused
to be ignored.

She ran out onto the landing and started down the stairs, her slippers making almost no sound. Marcus had paused in the deserted hall as her father donned his hat and picked up his walking cane and gloves from the table by the door.

“Good day, my lord.” Marcus’s voice carried quite clearly back to her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Havering.”

“I regret we shall not be joining you on Thursday,” Marcus said. “Actually, on second thought, I don’t regret it at all. I was merely attempting to be polite.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Neither Amelia or I need your countenance to be accepted by society, sir, and, more to the point, neither of us give a fig about whether we are accepted. If you are not prepared to treat my wife with the respect and attention she deserves, then I cannot in all conscience allow her to see you.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand, Havering. I am doing you a great favor by even acknowledging your existence. You should be thanking
me
for lowering my standards to accommodate your error. My daughter’s scandalous past is hardly the kind of background a peer of the realm could want in his wife.”

“My
wife
was married to a rifleman who was heroically killed fighting for this country. After his death, she made her own way in this world with no help from you and, just to make you
fully
aware of her strength of character, she damn well saved my life. You should be groveling at her feet begging her forgiveness instead of doubting her character. Now, get out of my house.”

There was a long silence, and then the front door slammed hard. Letting out her breath, Amelia went over to where Marcus was still standing, his expression stormy, his eyes sparkling with rage. Going up on tiptoe, she cupped his rigid jaw.

“Thank you.”

“He is an abominable human being,” Marcus growled. “I was highly tempted to shake him until his teeth rattled and toss him out by the collar.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. He is not an enemy I would wish upon anyone, especially you.”

“I’m not sure. He looks like the kind of man who could do with having his smug air of superiority punctured on a regular basis.”

She kissed his mouth. “We really do not have to go and mend our fences with them on Thursday?”

“They can go hang themselves.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Was I too rude?”

“I thought you handled him perfectly. You are the only person who has ever defended me against my father.”

He grimaced. “After saying I’d leave you to deal with him.”

“Even if I shouted, screamed and tore my hair out, he would probably have stepped over me and kept speaking to you. He’s always been like that with his daughters. We mean less to him than his dogs.”

She linked her arm through his and guided him back toward his study. If she didn’t start moving soon, she would rest her head against his chest and bawl like small child.

“Amelia?”

She kept her voice light. “Let’s go and see if Foster brought Jack and Carys some refreshments.”

“I will always protect you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. He loved her. Everything he did convinced her of that. If she started telling him how much she loved him in return, she would never be able to stop and she might frighten him off. Their marriage bargain had been sealed on the understanding that they weren’t in love. But if she didn’t tell him? What if this was their last moment together? What had he told her about seizing the moment?

She raised her chin. “I believe I am quite in need of a strong cup of tea.”

“I have brandy on the sideboard.”

Amelia patted his arm. “Then we will both be refreshed and ready to decide how to trap Captain Fury.”

Marcus allowed Amelia to lead him back through the entrance hall and down toward his study. Just before they reached the door, he checked to see if there were any servants around and turned her until her back was against the wall.

“Don’t cry, my love. Your father isn’t worth your tears.”

She slowly blinked at him. “I’m not crying for him.”

“Then for whom?” He got out his handkerchief and calmly mopped up the tears that had escaped down her cheeks.

“I’m not crying.”

He showed her his damp handkerchief before placing it in her hand.

“What is it, my heart?”

“It’s you.”

“I make you cry?” He framed her face with his hands, seeing the beauty in it, the strength of purpose, and the patina of honesty in her very stare.

“I love you, Marcus.”

He let that sink deep inside him and settle close to his heart. “And that makes you cry? Because you must know that I love you, too.”

“It makes me very happy. But it was not part of our bargain.”

“Ah, now I understand. Tears can be happy things for a woman.” He held her gaze. “Dare I hope that I make you happy?”

“Do you even have to ask?” she whispered. “I cannot imagine my life without you now.”

He smiled at her as a deep wave of thankfulness roared through him. “Then I am a very lucky man, seeing as love has found us both despite everything.” He lowered his head and kissed her very slowly and thoroughly. “And now I am wishing Jack and his wife to the devil,” he murmured.

With a smile, she pushed on his chest. “The sooner we settle them in their bedchamber, the sooner we can retire to ours.”

Marcus straightened and glanced ruefully down at his now tented breeches. “It cannot be soon enough for me.”

Despite his best endeavors, Marcus still found himself seated at the dinner table sharing a last glass of port with Jack. Despite their years apart, it hadn’t taken them long to reestablish the ease between them that had previously existed. They had always fitted well together, like two halves of a plum. Marcus could only hope Jack was as sincere as he appeared.

“Who do you think Captain Fury is?” Marcus refilled his glass and hoped Amelia would forgive him for not appearing in their bedchamber sooner.

“I have no idea.” Jack sipped his port carefully, as if it was a rare treat for him. His clothes were a lot shabbier than Marcus’s, and he looked rather on the lean side. “He seems to have many fingers in many pies both high and low.”

“If he has managed to deceive the Duke of Diable Delamere and evade all the resources of the British Crown, he must be rather exceptional.” Marcus frowned. “He reminds me of someone… I only wish I could remember who it is.”

“Sometimes he works for the government. That’s why they don’t care to delve into his identity too deeply.” Jack put his glass down. “I don’t care who he is. I just want some answers, and then I want his promise that I’ll never have to see or speak to him again in this lifetime.”

“I don’t particularly care who he is, either, but if I find out he is the man responsible for my imprisonment, then I intend to kill him.”

Jack nodded. “All I would ask is that we get as much information out of him as possible before you do that.”

“You wouldn’t stop me?”

“Marcus, after how you were treated, I’d offer you the man’s head on a silver platter if I could manage it. Every time I think about your being held captive and treated worse than a dog, I—”

“I’m alive, though, and I’m home now.”

“And have a wife.” Jack’s smile returned. “Lady Havering is a remarkably resourceful woman.”

“She saved my life by taking me in and tending me at Dove Cottage. She had no idea who I was, and she still treated me like an honored guest rather than the shackled, traitorous deserter I appeared to be.”

“A woman of great good sense and compassion.” Jack pushed back his coat sleeve. “I have the same marks from being shackled before my flogging. Luckily for me, Carys was willing to take me back despite everything that went wrong between us.”

Marcus raised his glass. “I am glad for you, Jack.”

“I have a son, Marcus. His name is Owen. I cannot believe how lucky I am.” Jack’s hushed voice was almost reverent. “And if the Rice family had achieved their aims I would’ve had nothing.”

“I cannot believe what a fool David was.” Marcus shook his head. “I also don’t think he had the brains to orchestrate the ambush, do you?”

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