The Wedding Escape (31 page)

Rosalind was momentarily disconcerted by such a personal question. “Things were very different for us,” she began, trying to construct a careful answer. “I could see that your father was hardworking and ambitious, and your father knew I wasn't afraid of work, either. We had come from similar backgrounds, and we both wanted the same thing—to make a better life for our children. That is what you should want as well.”

“But did you care about each other?”

Rosalind cast a desperate glance at John, trying to find a way to respond without defeating her own argument.

“Our courtship was entirely different, Amelia,” he pointed out. “Your wealth makes you extremely enticing to every unmarried man who meets you. You cannot be expected to marry someone poor, as I was when your mother and I met, and you can't marry just any rogue who fills your head with lies, the way Philmore did.”

“But Lord Whitcliffe only wants to marry me because of my dowry,” Amelia argued, trying to appeal to him.

“I'm afraid that's true of every man who offered for you, Amelia.” His voice gentled a little. He took no pleasure in revealing the unfairness of life to his idealistic young daughter. “And would be true of every man who ever did show an interest in you. Like it or not, there is no escaping who you are and what you represent. Your mother and I can only try to give you a husband who can offer you the most in terms of your status and opportunities for your children.”

“And that man is Lord Whitcliffe,” Rosalind finished emphatically. She studied Amelia a moment, pained by her obvious unhappiness, yet absolutely certain that she and John were doing the right thing. “You will want for nothing, Amelia—your father and I will make certain of that.”

“What I want is to go back to the life I have made for myself,” Amelia pleaded. “I have friends there—people who care about me—and you can't make me stay here…”

“Anyone who would help to keep a confused, impressionable young girl from returning to her family and honoring her betrothal to a duke while putting her to work is not a friend, nor are they suitable company for you.” Realizing she and John were getting nowhere with their attempts at rational persuasion, Rosalind decided it was time to take a firmer approach. “If you ever try to return to them, I will have you followed.” Determined to eradicate any thoughts Amelia might have of running away again, she continued, “When I find out who they are, I promise you that your father and I will see to it that they are destroyed both financially and socially—is that clear?” Her expression softened. “Now then, I suggest we arrange for a bath so we can get you out of those clothes and wash that atrocious color out of your hair. I have ordered another wedding gown for you, and it will need to be fitted immediately if it is to be ready in two days. That will give me just enough time to arrange for the church and a small reception here afterward. Once you are married and settled at Lord Whitcliffe's estate, we can plan a more lavish celebration.” She rang for the butler.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mother, but I will not be marrying Lord Whitcliffe.” Amelia inhaled a steadying breath, fighting to keep her voice resolute as she defied her parents. “I don't know how to say it more plainly than that. I came here to see you because I thought you were dying and might take comfort in seeing me. Now that I know you are well, I intend to leave on the first train possible.”

“You're not going anywhere, Amelia Belford.” Rosalind could not understand her daughter's behavior, but she had no intention of permitting her to ruin her life. “I forbid it.”

“You cannot keep me here against my will.”

“Of course I can. You're my daughter, and your father and I will decide what is best for you and this family, even if that means locking you in your room until your wedding.”

“Then I'll just run away again.”

“Really, Amelia, you have no more sense than a child.” William regarded her in exasperation. “Do you really believe you can just walk out of here and go back to wherever it is you have been hiding these past few weeks? As we speak, the news that Amelia Belford has returned home is spreading like fire throughout this neighborhood.”

She looked at William in confusion. “No one knows I am here…”

“Perkins, the butler, knows, and he would have marched straight downstairs to the kitchen to announce it to all the servants. By now they have told the neighbors' servants, the delivery boys, and everyone in the shops the maids have run off to. A pack of journalists are probably on their way over this very moment to get the story. By early this evening all of London will know of your return, and by tomorrow so will the rest of the world. Within five minutes you won't be able to step outside without being mobbed. You have become even more famous since your disappearance than you were before, and everyone is going to want to see you to make certain that you are truly safe.”

William was right, Amelia realized helplessly. In her desperation to see her mother, she had not considered the attention her return would instigate.

“You cannot be permitted to leave this house,” Rosalind decided. Recalling Amelia's embarrassing escape at the church, she continued, “I will instruct the servants to have someone keep watch out front and back, in case you decide to do something ridiculous like climb out of a window.”

Amelia regarded her father imploringly. “Please, Papa…”

“I'm afraid your mother is right.” It wounded him to see Amelia so unhappy, but John had no doubt that he and Rosalind were doing the right thing. His innocent young daughter might have enjoyed running away and having her little adventure, but ultimately he had to protect her from making a decision that she would certainly come to regret. “One day you will see that, Amelia.”

Amelia cast one last desperate look at Freddy.

“Don't even think about involving your brother in another one of your mad schemes, Amelia,” Rosalind warned. “I know all about how he assisted you the last time. If he dares to do anything so foolish again, or if you try to run away or do anything to avoid your marriage to Lord Whitcliffe, both of you will be cut off. Given Freddy's expensive tastes and the extensive bills he has accumulated here in London, I doubt he will find that agreeable.”

Anger clouded Freddy's face. “Maybe I'll just find a job like Amelia did.”

“Unless there are jobs which allow you to be drunk by noon, I'm not sure what it is you are fit to do,” William reflected.

“If either of you dare to defy me, Frederick, you will have to find out,” warned Rosalind. “Is that clear?”

Freddy regarded Amelia helplessly.

“It's all right, Freddy.” Amelia adored her sweetly aimless brother, and could not bear the thought of him being punished because of her. “Don't worry—everything is going to be fine.”

“Perkins, kindly escort Miss Belford to her room and see that her new maid is sent to her at once,” Rosalind instructed as the butler entered the dining room. “She requires a hot bath, and her new wedding gown must be fetched from the dressmaker's so that it can be fitted. Tell my maid I require her assistance immediately in making a list of everything that needs to be done and preparing invitations for this afternoon's mail. That way they will be received in tomorrow's first post.”

“Yes, Mrs. Belford,” said Perkins. “There is a group of gentlemen from the newspapers outside who wish to know if Mr. Belford would be willing to speak to them regarding the safe return of Miss Belford. They would also like to see Miss Belford, if possible.”

“Tell them Amelia is resting and preparing for her upcoming marriage to Lord Whitcliffe,” Rosalind instructed John, “which will take place the day after tomorrow. It's short notice, but at least we should be able to get some coverage in the society pages. If they want to see her, they will have to wait patiently outside until she is sufficiently recovered from her ordeal, and at this time we don't know when that will be.”

Her mother had effectively invited the journalists to stay camped outside their doorstep waiting for her to make an appearance, Amelia realized despondently. The last tenuous possibility that she might somehow be able to secretly escape the house and return to the life she had made in Inverness was shattered.

She was Amelia Belford once again, and she was trapped.

 

B
Y THE TOES OF SAINT ANDREW, JUST HOW MUCH
did ye drink?” demanded Oliver, throwing open the curtains.

Jack cracked open a bleary eye, then winced at the blast of sunlight pouring into the study.

“Not much,” he mumbled, feeling as if his head were about to explode. “I was working late,” he added, noticing that his cheek was pillowed against a mountain of papers and journals on his desk.

“Is that what ye call it? Gettin' yerself completely guttered is more how I see it.”

“I'm not guttered,” Jack insisted, cautiously raising his head.

“Then ye'll nae mind a few visitors, will ye?”

“I don't want to see anyone.” He wondered if it were possible for a skull to actually split open from pain. “Tell whoever it is to come back tomorrow.”

“He says ye're to come back tomorrow,” Oliver informed the group standing in the doorway.

“I can see why,” observed Haydon wryly.

Genevieve regarded Jack with concern. “Perhaps we should have sent a note letting him know that we were coming.”

“I've seen him look worse.” Jamie marched in, took a quick look at Jack and frowned. “On second thought, maybe not.”

“Really, Jack, this is no way to behave when you have guests staying in your home,” chided Annabelle. “You look
dreadful
.”

“Maybe he's not feeling well,” protested Charlotte, limping into the study behind her.

“I don't think I'd feel well after drinking all that whiskey, either,” Grace reflected, sniffing the air.

“He needs something to eat.” Simon's expression was bright as he joined his parents and siblings. “Do you think Eunice has lunch ready?”

“Beggin' yer pardon.” Alex brushed against Haydon as she squeezed her way through the crowded study. “Sorry—I just need to see Jack,” she apologized, bumping into Jamie.

Wondering when, exactly, his study was declared a public meeting place, Jack gingerly forced himself to sit up. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Alex, who was standing before him with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Give it back,” he ordered.

She regarded him innocently. “What do ye mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Give it back. Now.”

She huffed with annoyance. “Can't we at least count it first?”

“No. You give it back now, Alex, or you'll have no dessert tonight.”

Looking thoroughly irritated, she reached into the sleeve of her new dress and pulled out a dark leather coin purse. “Here,” she said, tossing it to Haydon. “I only wanted to count what's inside.”

Haydon caught the purse in surprise. “Thank you.”

“There.” Alex glowered at Jack. “Are ye happy?”

“Not quite.”

She huffed mightily again. “Let's wait 'til he notices.”

“No.”

“Ye're nae fun today,” she complained.

“Don't throw it,” Jack warned.

“I wasn't goin' to,” she protested, pulling a gold watch and chain from her other sleeve. “I was only borrowin' it,” she told Jamie, handing the watch back to him.

“You're good,” said Jamie, impressed. “I didn't feel a thing.”

“Is that everything?” Jack eyed Alex suspiciously.

She shrugged her shoulders. “If ye was watchin' me, ye should know.”

“Alex…” he began warningly.

“That's all she pinched in here,” Oliver told him. “I was keepin' an eye on her.”

“Well, it seems I have a great deal of catching up to do,” said Genevieve, pulling off her gloves. “Since you don't seem to want to come out to the house for dinner, Jack, and you've obviously been too busy to extend an invitation to us, Haydon and I decided that we would come by for a visit today. We're most anxious to meet your houseguest, Miss Belford. We have heard a great deal about her from your brothers and sisters. Is she still at work at the hotel?”

“She's gone,” Jack said abruptly.

Annabelle regarded him in surprise. “Gone where?”

“Back to her family in London. She left on the train yesterday, and would have arrived there this morning.”

“But she'll be back.” Alex frowned at Jack for making it sound so final. “She told me so afore she left—while ye was still sleepin'.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. He did not want to dash Alex's hopes too soon. Despite her indifferent demeanor, Jack knew she had actually grown extremely fond of Amelia.

“Oh, Jack, how could you possibly let her return alone?” wondered Charlotte, looking at him with concern. “She must have wanted to go home because she heard her mother was ill—why on earth didn't you go with her?”

“I couldn't,” he snapped, defensive. “She insisted on leaving immediately, and unfortunately, I had business matters to attend to, and could not simply…”

“Jack.” Her voice was filled with gentle reprimand.

“I couldn't go with her, Charlotte.”

“Then you should have asked one of us to go,” said Annabelle. “I could have gone, or Jamie, or Simon…”

“He didn't want anyone to go with her.” Charlotte's gaze was fixed sympathetically upon her brother. “He was hoping that she would choose to stay with him.”

“Amelia is free to do whatever she likes,” he said brusquely. “I don't really give a damn one way or the other. I asked her not to go, and she did. I assume that if she wants to return, she will.”

“She won't be able to,” Grace countered. “Her parents will never allow it. You know how desperate they are for Amelia to marry Lord Whitcliffe. Her disappearance these past few weeks has been profoundly embarrassing for them. I'm quite sure that once Amelia is back in their grasp, they'll not be so careless as to let her escape again.”