The Captain's Wallflower (16 page)

“So—?”

“When I heard your father’s objections, I saw my suit from his perspective, and I couldn’t argue against it,” Alexander finally admitted. “If I had a daughter as wonderful as his, I would not welcome my suit either.”

“Are you saying that you consider yourself not worthy of Miss Basingstoke?” Anthony asked in disbelief. He could not be considered a lofty member of the
ton
, but Anthony was fully aware of the lineage of their family and the very real fact that many families would consider being connected to the Newton line as a thing to aspire to. To consider himself unworthy of an untitled young lady proved to Anthony how serious his younger sibling was.

“I’m not worthy of her,” Alexander said seriously, turning to his brother. “If I live to be a hundred, I still won’t be worthy of her. She is forgiving, accepting of people as they are; she is resilient and magnanimous, intelligent and funny. She is and always will be a far better person than I am.”

“Mr Basingstoke,” Anthony said, turning to William. “I have never heard my brother say anything like this before, and I beseech you to advise us on any way we can persuade your father to change his mind. Alexander is obviously smitten with your sister and will be a complete nightmare to deal with if he isn’t united with her. Please have mercy and save the others in his family from this bleak future.”

William smiled. He had been daunted by speaking before his idolised captain, but then to add a Lord of the Realm into his audience had turned his stomach, but he was reassured that both men seemed free of the usual condescending attitude of the higher classes. “It will be my pleasure if it will place a smile on my sister’s lips. She is not herself.”

“What can I do?” Alexander said. “I’m not eloping with her, and that’s the only way I can think of getting around this.”

“No, that would never do; we’d chase you and make sure we’d catch you,” William said. He was being perfectly honest, his tone was good-natured rather than angry. “You need to convince my father that you do want her above anyone else.”

“I’m not sure I ever would change his mind,” Alexander muttered.

“I’m surprised Amelia has had nothing to say on the subject,” William said.

“She doesn’t know,” Alexander explained. “I didn’t have the opportunity to explain my intentions, and then your father asked me not to mention it; I respected his wishes and didn’t utter a word to your sister.”

“I’m not sure Amelia would be quite so respectful,” William said rubbing his chin. “Father can be stubborn when he’s made his mind up, though.”

“I’m not hopeful of changing his decision; he seemed firm in his refusal,” Alexander admitted.

“Is this the man who faced the French Navy?” Anthony asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Ah, shut-up, Anthony!” Alexander said with a glare.

“Mr Basingstoke, you have been very useful today, and I thank you for your visit, but leave the rest to us; we will work out a way to convince your father, and your sister for that matter, that Miss Basingstoke is worth fighting for,” Anthony said to William.

“I’m glad I’ll be a long way from here, My Lord,” William smiled in return. “I’d love to be able to see Amelia made happy, but if she should suspect I had anything to do with it, my life won’t be worth living, even if she did marry your brother!”

William left and the two brothers fell silent, both pondering William’s words. Finally Anthony broke the silence. “It looks as if I shall be here a few days more than expected. I shall leave you while I secure rooms then we can formulate a plan of some sort.”

Anthony stood and walked to the door, but Alexander’s voice stopped him. “If we fail Anthony, I don’t know how I’ll face a future without her. I was forcing myself to accept that she was lost to me; to have renewed hope and then for it to flounder once more—”

“Faith, dear brother, faith,” Anthony interrupted, opening the door and walking through.

Chapter 16

Amelia dressed for the ball but with no feelings of excitement or anticipation. In some respects she felt as she had when residing in London. A ball was just another entertainment to get through. She had considered asking to be excused but had decided against it; her mother would never allow her to miss the event. Everyone in the locality and from the outlying villages attended the Twelfth Night festivity.

At least this year she would have a fine gown to wear. Sir Jeremy had willingly financed a new wardrobe for Amelia on her arrival in London. Lady Basingstoke had insisted that she was not being accompanied by a chit in drab clothing; too late had she realised that Sir Jeremy would buy Amelia a whole new wardrobe of clothes in response. She cursed Amelia often that the young woman owed them the clothes on her back.

The dress was not as fine as the beautiful gowns that the women of the
ton
wore. They chose the silks that were so fine they seemed to float around a body; Amelia’s was made of lilac sarsenet. A deeper lilac ribbon was plaited around the edging of the dress. The gathered bodice suited Amelia’s figure perfectly, and the colour of the dress complemented her dark colouring. Pearl combs fixed her hair, allowing more natural curling to frame her face. Staring into the looking glass, Amelia admitted her outfit would fit in perfectly along with the others that would be shown off that evening; it was also a colour suitable for a lady accepting her role of spinster. She would leave the whites and ivories to the younger girls who still had hope of a happy union.

Amelia sighed; she would have to shake off this melancholy; it was no use. She had to forget him and return to her usual buoyant self; this maudlin mood did no one any good. What had happened was over now. She had wanted marriage and a large family, but that was not to be her lot in life; she would have to accept it. She did have a lot to be thankful for, and she inwardly chastised herself for not recognising that. A smile twitched the edges of her lips; at least she had been kissed passionately; that was probably more than many of the spinsters that frequented the benches in every ballroom could say. She would never forget the intensity of those kisses.

She met her parents at the bottom of the stairs and donned her thick woollen cloak. Warm bricks had been added to the draughty carriage that had been in the family for more than a generation, and the farm horses were attached to the front of the equipage—no separate horses for work and pleasure for the Basingstoke family.

The carriage deposited its occupants at the bottom of Broad Street in Lyme, not being able to reach the doors of the Assembly Rooms which were located on Cobb Gate. Amelia pulled her cloak closer as she prepared herself to try and avoid the bustle of the sedan chairs depositing their occupants directly at the doors of the building. The noise of shouting as sedan-chair porters cursed each other hurrying the ones already reaching the doors was overwhelming in the confusion that darkness brings. The welcoming light of the Assembly Rooms guided the guests into its open doorway, and all were once more out of the elements and noise; Amelia was happy to join the throng pushing their way through the bustle.

As Amelia walked alongside the sea wall listening to the sound of the sea crashing onto the stone below, she could not help but be reminded of the longing of Alexander to be beside the sea. To her it was something to admire but to be wary of; she had seen the effects of shipwrecks with much driftwood being left on the shore at Charmouth over the years. To him, though, the sea was something comforting that could soothe him and, because of him, she would always look at it differently when gazing on it during daylight.

The ballroom had a row of large windows overlooking the sea, the impact going unnoticed as the light of the candles prevented any view being seen through the windows. Amelia could not think about the man whom it brought to mind as her mother directed her immediately into the card room. Amelia sighed; she could hear the orchestra, but her role this evening would be to make up any shortages in card games that her mother wished to play. A tedious evening lay ahead; she would rather watch the dancers than take part in card games.

For the first half hour, Mrs Basingstoke did not sit down; she was too busy with her hellos to her neighbours and acquaintances to be distracted by cards. When satisfied that everyone had been greeted, she paused, choosing her position for the evening carefully.

Amelia was surprised when they were approached by Richard and another gentleman she did not recognise. She had not expected to see Richard at the ball and cursed herself for the hope that flittered into her mind that Alexander might also have attended before the reality of the situation made her accept the preposterousness of the thought.

“Good evening!” Richard said cheerfully. “My friend here expressed a wish to be introduced to the finest ladies in the room so, of course I’ve brought him directly to yourselves!”

Both Amelia and her mother smiled at the pair, and Richard performed the introductions. “Mrs Basingstoke, Miss Basingstoke, please allow me to introduce the Earl of Newton to you both.”

“My Lord,” both ladies said with a curtsey at Anthony’s bow.

Amelia knew immediately who she was being introduced to and looked closely at Alexander’s brother. He was smaller than his brother, only slightly but, because the difference in stature was in height as well as broadness, he appeared of substantially slighter build than his sibling. They both shared the same jet black hair and now shared a pale skin colouring, although Amelia thought Alexander’s swarthy complexion had suited him. Anthony’s eyes were a mix of blue and green, not the blue of the sea that Alexander had. Amelia longed to gaze into those eyes. Seeing Anthony was torture to Amelia; he was so like the one her heart longed for and yet not the same.

“Miss Basingstoke, before Mr Critchley has time to secure you, would you do me the honour of dancing the next two with me? We saw you arrive, so I’m hoping you have not had the opportunity to make prior engagements,” Anthony said easily.

“I’m not engaged, My Lord, if it is acceptable to you Mama?” Amelia asked turning to her mother.

“Of course,” Mrs Basingstoke said eagerly. An earl dancing with her daughter! It would be the talk of the evening as soon as she had informed her friends who the newcomer was.

Anthony led Amelia onto the dance floor as the three violins and violoncello struck up for the next dance. They moved silently for the first few moves, each watching the other closely.

Finally, Amelia broke the silence. “I hope your brother is continuing to improve from his operation?” she asked. It might be an act of transparency that sophisticated women would never consider, but she needed to know how Alexander fared.

“He does, thank you. It has been a relief to his family.”

“And his friends,” Amelia said quietly, but she knew at the quirk of his eyebrow that Anthony had heard.

“He has been short of visitors these last few days.”

“Yes, my father decided it would be best if we didn’t visit,” Amelia replied honestly. She knew her parent was acting in her best interest, but it had still felt as if she were being punished, knowing that Alexander was so close and yet unable to visit. “Has your family accompanied you on your trip?”

“No, my wife is increasing again and did not wish to travel,” Anthony explained.

“Wise at this time of year. We’ve already had one large snowfall,” Amelia said politely.

“I’m hoping my brother will accompany me on my return home,” Anthony said, noticing the way Amelia’s expression dropped at his words.

“He will need to recuperate for some time, I imagine. It is a pity you do not live closer to the sea; he would sleep better.”

“How so?”

“Oh, he once told me that the sounds of the sea rock him into a deep sleep. I can understand why; it is hypnotising,” Amelia said with a smile at the memories of their conversations in Green Park. It all seemed so very long ago.

As the dance ended, Anthony offered his hand to Amelia. When she had placed her own in his, he led her to the edge of the dance floor. “Miss Basingstoke, would you forgo the next dance to accompany me to the top of the slipway?”

“The slipway? At night, with not the roughest of seas, but one that is far from calm?” Amelia asked, surprise in her voice.

“I know it is a little strange, but there is someone seated in a sedan chair who couldn’t be here, or he would have entered the room. I think you both need a little time alone to talk things through,” Anthony responded.

“He’s in a sedan chair? In this weather?” Amelia exclaimed. “The foolish man! He’ll catch his death of cold!”

Anthony followed Amelia, a smile of amusement playing around his mouth. He was not sure what sort of reception his brother was anticipating when he met with Amelia, but if her words and the disgusted expression on her face were anything to go by, it was going to be one heck of a scolding!

Amelia retrieved her cloak and wrapped it closely around her as she left the Assembly Rooms; there were still enough people around for her to be able to slip out unnoticed. Every part of her knew she should have refused the request on so many levels, but she could not refuse him anything. Especially as he should not even be venturing out so soon after his operation.

There was only one Sedan Chair at the top of the slipway positioned a safe distance from the waves but so the occupant could look out to sea. The blackness of the night prevented visibility for anything but the spume on the waves, but it was a comfort to Alexander to be so close to the water. Amelia marched over to the chair and flung open the door.

“Have you some sort of death wish, Captain Worthington? I’m convinced you must have! You surely have come here without your doctor’s knowledge!”

Alexander jumped at the sudden opening of the door and looked in surprise at Amelia. Anthony had guessed correctly, this was not the welcome he had predicted. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here,” he admitted.

“You surprise me!” Amelia said sarcastically. “And what did you hope to achieve by risking your health to sit outside when I can feel the chill even though I have been dancing for the last half hour?”

“I have more layers on than should ever be put on a single individual, and my feet are uncomfortable from too many hot bricks.”

“You should return to your chamber.”

“I need to speak to you first,” Alexander insisted.

“I shall visit you tomorrow,” Amelia said, needing him to return to the safety of his room. If he caught a chill he would surely not have the strength for another fight so soon after his operation.

“You will visit me with one of your parents, and I will not be able to say or do what I need to.”

“And what is that?” Amelia asked. Her anger had prevented the usual formation of butterflies in her stomach when Alexander was near, but his words had caused them to take up flight inside her, and the anger immediately started to ebb.

“Miss Basingstoke, I need to tell you everything. Please join me,” Alexander said, reaching out his hand to her.

Amelia stepped back slightly. “In a sedan chair? There is not room. It is not appropriate.”

“I promise you we’ll fit. Please.” Alexander said quietly.

Amelia groaned silently. She could not refuse him, but they would probably be caught, and she would be ruined. She sighed; ruined or not, a spinster was a spinster. Her chances of a match would not be affected. Stepping to the chair, she placed her gloved hand into Alexander’s and responded to his gentle pull.

Alexander’s heart soared the moment Amelia moved towards him. For what had felt like long moments her words had suggested she would refuse him. He had tried to watch her expression, but he was finding it difficult to see her because of the light. His sight was limited at best, and the darkness made things even more difficult.

He helped her step into the sedan chair, holding her steady. They were very cramped, but Alexander shuffled across the seat a little, and there was just enough room for Amelia to sit. He pulled her closer to himself so she would not be pushed uncomfortably against the wood of the chair. There was a curtain, and Alexander pulled it across the side windows. He did not wish to attract attention.

Amelia had lost the power of speech since stepping into such a confined space with Alexander. Her heart was racing, and her mouth had gone dry. Alexander shifted a little so that he faced her and took her chin in his fingers, forcing her to look at him.

“Amelia, I had to see you. I’ve missed you so very much,” Alexander said, using her given name without asking permission first.

“I-I’ve missed you,” Amelia admitted.

“Good. I kissed you once before when I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. I needed to feel your lips in case I had no other chance. Since I woke from that operation I’ve been haunted by those kisses. May I—?”

Amelia swallowed but nodded her head slightly. Alexander smiled. “I’m so very glad you said yes. I’ve dreamed about your kisses.”

He said no more as he gently touched his lips to hers. She whispered a moan as he pulled away from the gentle touch. Alexander smiled, looking into Amelia’s eyes. She looked nervous and unsure, but he saw something that gave him the courage to kiss her again; he saw need.

Amelia’s lips parted as Alexander returned his lips to hers and deepened his kiss, letting go of her chin and plunging his hands into her hair. Pearl clips clattered on the wooden floor of the sedan, but their kiss did not ease. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, longing to grab Alexander’s hair but, aware of the bandage, she restrained herself.