The bluestocking brides, p.7
The Bluestocking Brides, page 7
Just the thought of Nicholas marrying and her having to attend the wedding, all pretend smiles and false wishes made Amelia’s stomach hurt.
“I cannot deny I had hoped he might choose one of you instead but what is one to do when one has bookish, redheaded daughters. One cannot expect too much.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Is that all then, Mama? Did you need us for anything else?”
“I was not done yet, Julia,” her mother scolded. “You need not be rude.”
Their mother moved through into the second parlor room and they all followed like ducklings following the mother duck. They knew well enough that it was easier to indulge their mother in her need to share gossip than to make excuses to escape.
She sat and waved a hand in front of her face. “All this news has me quite weary. Ring for some tea, Catherine.”
Catherine did as she was bid while their mother leaned forward. “Now, girls, if there is to be a ball, there shall be some eligible gentlemen.”
Emma barely stifled a groan. Mama shot her a sharp look.
“I want you to be on your best behavior. And no talking of books or nature or stars or...” Mama’s gaze settled on Emma. “Or whatever it is you’re doing now, Emma.” A dreamy look entered her eyes. “Imagine your father’s surprise if I managed to marry one of you off before his return.”
“Mama,” Amelia cautioned. While she might hope for happy endings for her sisters, none of them would be willing to marry a man they had met once at a ball. Nor would they be willing to suppress their interests for a man. She feared her mother’s dreams were going to be dashed.
“Well, I like a good dance,” Catherine said cheerfully. “Especially if my partner is handsome. But I cannot promise not to speak of the stars.”
Mama’s smile vanished. “Whatever did I do to deserve such bookish daughters. I swear I do not know where it comes from.” She sighed and cast her gaze over all of them. “Oh well, at least one of you is married off.”
“Exactly.” Julia stood and gave their mother a kiss on the cheek. Mama’s dour expression softened. “Now I will wear new ribbons but you will not catch me with flowers, Mama.”
A reluctant smile came across her face. “That is progress indeed. What say you, girls? Shall we do a little shopping to ready for the ball?”
“Yes!” they all declared.
Amelia’s sisters crowded around their mother and covered her in kisses. They all laughed but Amelia could not bring herself to join in the fun. Who could Nicholas be engaged to and why had he been so…so charming and pleasant to her? Why had he led her down a false path of hope? Her sisters might be looking forward to a chance to dance and be merry, but she could not, not when all her hopes would be dashed forever.
Chapter Eleven
Lamps and candles glimmered in every corner, highlighting the gold embellishments surrounding the ballroom. Re-designed by his mother when she had married his father, the room spoke of subtle elegance. Cream striped walls were set off by large golden framed mirrors while the ceilings were plain with only a large ceiling rose in the center to draw attention to the spectacular chandelier. The orchestra played a subtle tune in the background.
Nicholas drew in a breath. He rocked on his heels and peered down the long line of guests. Tonight was a risk, to be sure, but if he had learned nothing from life, he had learned that risks were often necessary...and far too much fun.
He greeted his guests with the usual courtesy and he hoped none could tell he was entirely distracted. There was only one guest he cared about.
A flash of red caught his eye and his heart did a leap in his chest. He heard them all before he saw them again—all four girls talking excitedly whilst Mrs. Chadwick tried to calm them. When they finally reached him, he could not help but grin. Particularly when he laid eyes on Amelia.
Dressed in a slender column of pale silk, her hair was coiled carefully and scattered with dainty white flowers. The red tone of her hair made everything that much more vibrant and interesting. She met his gaze—just—before dropping it to the ground. He eyed her lips and that same thought that always occurred to him ran through his mind. Why had he never seen her before? Not properly at least. He could have saved himself a lot of heartache if he had.
“Everyone looks wonderful,” Emma gushed. She peered over his shoulder. “Do I see a piano? Oh I hope—”
“So kind of you to invite us,” Catherine cut in.
“My pleasure.”
“Yes, so, so kind,” Mrs. Chadwick agreed. “But what, pray tell, is the occasion? And to put together a ball with such haste! It must be an important occasion indeed.”
He doubted Mrs. Chadwick fully understood quite what the ball was in honor of but she had likely heard some gossip. He certainly hoped so. He had been trying to ensure word spread of this mysterious letter-writing lady. Apparently, Amelia had either not heard the gossip or had not understood his intentions, or else she would surely have grasped what was happening would she not?
“I cannot say, Mrs. Chadwick. Not yet, at least. But I can assure you this ball is in honor of a very special person.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Chadwick’s eyes widened. “I do hope we shall be introduced to her...erm, I mean, this special person.”
“You shall indeed.”
Amelia barely glanced at him as they moved past. He had to force himself away from watching her rear move in that delectable gown as she headed into the ballroom. Greeting the rest of his guests took far too long and he kept having to stop his feet from twitching.
One of the last guests to arrive was a Sir Smythe who had moved into the area only recently having let one of the houses a few miles away. The stout man looked as though he had already danced several country reels and was about to keel over. Red cheeks and a shining forehead made Nicholas wince.
“Why do you not take a seat?” he offered.
“Oh I will, I will, but let me take in the splendor first. And I see many lovely ladies here tonight. Of course, I would not have expected anything less.” He took a quick breath. “Let me say I am grateful for the chance to get to know more of the local families. What fine families they are too. I think myself lucky indeed to have been afforded the opportunity to live in an area with such affable people. One does not always find so many accommodating people do you not agree, my lord?”
Nicholas opened his mouth but Sir Smythe continued.
“My oldest son—married and living quite the life in London—could not understand my desire to move to the country. I told him I was only a few hours from London but he could not see how there was any fun to be had. Of course, an old man like myself is no longer in search of fun. However”—he wagged a finger—”I do enjoy good company and fine conversation, and I have never found there to be better conversation and company than in Hampshire.” He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Yes, indeed. London might have a lot to offer but so too does the country.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his head.
“You are—”
“My youngest son, however, quite likes the countryside.”
Nicholas gritted his teeth and braced himself.
“He shall be visiting in a month or so. I hope to introduce him to all the accommodating people here. Perhaps even find himself a nice lady. Those young Chadwick girls are pleasant, are they not?”
“Yes, pleasant indeed.”
“Yes, yes, one of those would do nicely. I heard that they like their books a little too much but the oldest one seems to be quite sensible.”
Of course, Sir Smythe could have little idea how what he was saying would affect Nicholas but he could not help but curl a fist at the idea of any other man having Amelia.
“I must say—”
Nicholas held up a hand. “Forgive me, I think the first dance is starting and I am promised to Mrs. Langley.”
Sir Smythe opened his mouth but Nicholas hastened off before he could utter another word. The man meant no harm but damn it, he did not put together a ball in two days simply so that man could talk his ear off. No, he had much more important things to deal with. Or really, more important people.
He had not lied about promising the first dance to Mrs. Langley but that was not his intention in getting away from the talkative Mr. Smythe. He cut a sharp corner and headed directly toward the gaggle of Chadwick girls. He stopped in front of Amelia and she was forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes shone with confusion and if he was not mistaken, a little hurt. He would fix that before the night was out, he hoped.
“Can I have the second dance?”
She lifted her wrist and looked at her dance card, even though he knew full well she had not had the time to fill it yet. “Um, yes.”
He smiled at the thought of holding her close being only one dance away. A wrinkle appeared between her brows and he fought the urge to kiss it away. He supposed it would be one way of announcing his intentions but there were a few things they needed to discuss first.
He hardly noticed the first dance or Mrs. Langley. Whether she took note of his disinterest, he had little idea but he could not bring himself to care. All of Nicholas’ attention remained on Amelia.
As he bowed and murmured something complimentary to Mrs. Langley, he locked gazes with Amelia. She’d been watching him the whole dance. Even when his head had been turned the other way, he’d felt her gaze upon him. He thought back to the letter he’d read. And the books. To most people in the room, it would be hard to see that Amelia was capable of writing such things, but to him, it all made sense. Behind that sensible facade was a woman who dreamed of passion and excitement.
He just needed to get her to admit as much.
“You dance wonderfully,” Mrs. Chadwick commented. “Almost as well as Lavinia’s husband.”
“Mother,” Amelia hissed.
“I did not know Scots were naturally gifted dancers,” he said wryly.
“Oh yes. At least Niall is. But perhaps Lavinia is lucky.” Mrs. Chadwick gave a wave of her fan.
“You have been lucky too have you not, Nicholas?” Catherine prompted.
He peered at the younger sister. Was she referring to the kiss she had witnessed or the rumors? Did she know what he intended? Catherine was infamous for saying what she wanted, when she wanted, and few recognized the great intellect behind her character but if anyone had figured out his intentions, it would be Catherine.
“Have I indeed?”
“Well, of course. We have heard the gossip. You are to be engaged, are you not?” Catherine lifted a brow and swung a look Amelia’s way.
“Catherine,” Amelia hissed.
“I shall reveal all soon enough. But I think this is our dance, Amelia. Shall we?”
He offered his arm and led her onto the dance floor.
“Oh. A waltz.” Amelia glanced around the room as the Master of Ceremonies announced the song. “
“Indeed.” Deliberately chosen so he could take her into his arms. Waltzes were still seldom danced in the country but he noted there was not a lack of willing dancers. How could there be when one got to take a beautiful woman in their arms?
“I had not looked at my dance card properly,” she confessed quietly.
He pulled her into him, barely allowing her any room. Heat built inside of him instantly. Her red lashes fluttered against her cheeks and rosiness gathered in her cheeks. From here, he could count each freckle. What he would not give to discover the rest of them. He could see them dancing across her chest and down. did they cover her entire body or just her shoulders? Hopefully, if all went well, he would not have to wait too long to discover.
The music began and he led her around the dance floor. Her body aligned perfectly with his, allowing him to control the momentum. Others whirled past them but he barely noticed. All he could think of was how warm her skin felt through the silk.
The familiar scent of violets wrapped their arousing blanket around him. He smiled to himself. Once upon a time, he would have thought there was nothing better than the scent of vanilla—the scent that Lavinia wore. How wrong he’d been. Lavinia would never blush at being taken in his arms. Likely because she would never be thinking scandalous thoughts. But he was willing to bet that, just as he was considering those freckles on her body, Amelia was thinking of what he looked like under his clothes.
“I am sorry about Catherine. And my mother, really,” she finally said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I hope...that is...I hope you are happy. If you are to be, um, married.”
“I will be if the lady says yes.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
She licked her lips, pasted on a smile, and met his gaze once more. “I’m sure she shall. You are a wonderful man, Nicholas. What woman would say no?”
He wouldn’t mention Lavinia. Both of them knew well enough she had turned him down flat once the Scotsman had arrived in Hampshire. And he did not want to be thinking of or speaking of her anyway. His...admiration for Lavinia had been fickle. Lavinia, it seemed, had been smart enough to see that what he felt for her was not true love.
“I hope she will not say no.” He whirled her a little faster, drawing her close. He let his breaths tickle over her ear. “If she does, I shall be heartbroken. A mere shell of a man.”
“She shall not deny you,” Amelia said, a little breathless.
“How can you know?”
He spun her and spun her, watching her eyes go wide as they danced recklessly around the ballroom.
“Nicholas!” she exclaimed.
It was all he needed. The slight smile on her lips and the excitement in her eyes. Underneath that tight bodice was the perfect match for him. When the music finished, he kept her close. Her breaths came heavily.
“How can you know?” he asked again.
The excitement in her eyes dulled and the smile turned into a straight line. “You are everything a woman could want, it is as simple as that.” She glanced around the room and back at him. “Forgive me, I am quite hot. I must get some air.
She tore away from him and dashed out of the open doors into the gardens. Nicholas let his lips curve into a smile. It was no confession of love but it was enough. Time to end this charade and get what he really wanted.
Chapter Twelve
Amelia sucked in lungfuls of air but they could not quell the pain in her chest. It had been residing there since she had heard the rumors of his engagement but they had just been rumors—it was easy enough to push them from her mind. But there was no denying it now. Nicholas would get married and she was as in love with him as ever.
She peered up at the clear skies and eyed the diamond-like sparkles set against a black backdrop. If Catherine were by her side, she would be telling her about all the patterns and their names. They blurred in front of her as tears singed her eyes.
“Silly girl,” she told herself.
After all, she had suffered through him falling for her sister. She could endure worse.
The dull strains of music sifted through the air and a light breeze moved around her. Not enough to chill her but it brushed against her tears making them feel cold on her face. Lanterns were lit up the two paths that cut between bushes, leading off into the orchard. No one was to be seen in the gardens. Most likely everyone was waiting for the grand announcement.
Who was this blasted woman anyway?
Another tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped it viciously away. “Silly, silly girl.”
“You dropped something.”
Her stomach lurched and the pain in her chest grew tenfold. Why had he followed her? It was bad enough she had to suffer watching him be happy with someone else. She could not bear it if he discovered her feelings for him too. Trying to conceal a sniffle, she dabbed her eyes discreetly and turned.
Nicholas held out a letter. Nausea swelled in her gut. “Oh no.”
He smiled as he handed it to her. She eyed the writing on the outside. There was no need to open it, she knew what it contained. She must have dropped it when she’d recovered the letters and it did not matter which one it was, they were all filled with her love for him.
Amelia straightened her shoulders. Of course, they were not signed by her. Perhaps he did not know. Oh Lord, she prayed he did not.
“I do not think this is mine.”
He moved closer. “Are you certain?”
She nodded emphatically. “I am.”
“That’s a pity. I wrote a reply.”
“A-a reply?”
“Yes. Would you like to see it?”
“I—” He was too handsome. His lips were pulled into a sly smile. The moonlight picked out the parts of his features she loved most. His eyes that crinkled at the corners and his strong jaw. His broad shoulders and long legs. That wavy hair. It almost broke her.
He pulled a letter out of his jacket and handed it over. “I think you should take a look.”
She stared at him, mouth open, and took the letter. His eyes were full of amusement. She frowned and plucked open the letter. Her heart slammed against her ribs at the first line.
Miss Amelia Chadwick (or A. Hardwick)
I am not a writer. Not as you are. You have quite the talent it seems. I am a man of action, you see, but I shall try to put what I can into words.
You have been in my life for many years and were always a dear friend. Your family have been a constant in my life that I will forever treasure. But I was blind in so many ways. I do not wholly blame myself. You, my dear Amelia, have been guilty of deception.
I see it all now. I know it all now. Underneath your sensible manner is a woman who runs hot with passion and desires excitement. In you, I see me. And I must tell you, the moment I realized that was the most exciting moment of my life. You are, I believe, what I have been looking for without even understanding that was what was missing.
I have no more words for you except this...if the words of A. Hardwick still ring true, will you marry me?
