Undressed by the Earl, page 10
part #3 of Secrets in Silk Series
“I know you aren’t feeling well because you aren’t speaking.” Before she could deny it, he continued. “I’ve known you for the past four years, and silent is not a word that describes you. You would talk to wallpaper if you thought it would answer back.”
She glared at him, which was a definite improvement. “Wallpaper might have more interesting things to say than some people.”
Now her spark had returned. He decided to bait her a little further. “I am quite good at conversing. You, of all people, should know that.”
“The weather, Lord Castledon? Honestly, you should—”
“Margaret and I were only having a bit of fun. Which was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
She quieted and shrugged. “I suppose.”
To change the subject, he pointed toward the hot air balloon. “Would you ever enjoy riding in one of those?”
“I would sooner throw myself into the Thames off the London Bridge.” Amelia shuddered. “I despise heights. If a woman were meant to fly, God would have placed wings upon her. The last time I checked, I have no wings.”
“I thought you were more adventurous than that.” He offered her his arm, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it, before they followed Margaret through the gardens.
“Sometimes.”
Her mood seemed to have lightened, and when they reached the end of the path, there seemed to be a commotion ahead. Although David would have taken the women away from the disruption, Margaret had already gone to investigate it.
“What is going on?” Amelia asked.
“I don’t know, but your sister should stay back, whatever it is. Wait here and—”
“I am not going to stand back out of the way. We will go together,” Amelia insisted. Though it wasn’t what he wanted, he supposed she was safer at his side than alone.
When they reached the small enclosure, David wanted to curse. A group of men had surrounded Lord Lisford, along with another man, who appeared as if he’d been dragged out of Thieves’ Alley. The viscount had discarded his coat and waistcoat, and his nose was bleeding. The two men were boxing, while others were wagering against the fight.
“What are they doing?” Amelia was shocked by the sight of the men. “In such a public place? Has the viscount gone mad?”
“I imagine gambling was involved in some way.” David stepped forward and spoke to Margaret, trying to guide her away from the fighting.
“I’m not leaving,” she insisted. Her face had gone white, and her hands were tightly gripped together. It was clear that Lord Lisford was losing this fight, and the other man was taking him apart. The viscount’s head snapped backward as a sound blow caught him in the jaw.
“You shouldn’t be here, Miss Andrews,” David said.
But Amelia stepped beside her sister, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Oh, no. It’s Mr. Sinclair fighting him, isn’t it?”
David had no idea who this Mr. Sinclair was, but the man was a damned good fighter. He allowed the viscount to swing a blow and dodged it at the last second, leaving the man to go sprawling.
But Amelia appeared frozen by the sight of the men.
“Do you want me to get him out of this?” Though David personally believed the viscount deserved whatever beating he got, he knew the man was important to her.
“Someone needs to stop the fight,” she whispered.
He eyed Margaret, who looked ready to step into the ring herself, with her hands clenched at her sides.
Damn it all, he supposed it was now up to him. He removed his coat, handing it to Amelia. “Stay with your sister, and do not let her interfere.”
“I’ll sit on her if I have to,” Amelia answered. Then she touched his shoulder. “Be careful, won’t you?”
Amelia didn’t know what had started the fight between Mr. Sinclair and the viscount, but she strongly suspected it was about her sister. The Highlander had never liked Lord Lisford, and he’d made no secret of his feelings for Margaret.
Her stomach sank, for she didn’t like fighting of any kind, much less with the man she wanted to marry. The earl had nearly reached the pair of them, and it was then that Amelia realized Lord Lisford’s nose was broken. Dear God, how badly was he hurt? He clutched his side and staggered to his feet. Although she was supposed to stay with Margaret, Amelia ignored caution and started to run toward the viscount. Before she reached them, the earl caught her hand and pulled her back.
“Don’t. This is no place for you.”
“He’s hurt,” she started to protest. Lord Lisford could hardly stand, and he needed a doctor.
“It was his choice to engage in the match. If you go to him now, you’ll make him appear weak.”
She stilled, not wanting to accept that he was right. And yet she understood that the viscount would not want her to see him like this. Silently, she stepped behind the earl.
Lord Lisford dropped to his knees, blood streaming down to his mouth. “Sinclair should be brought up on charges of assault,” he demanded. “He attacked me.”
“The fight was your idea,” another gentleman said aloud. “You were the one who challenged him. He won the wager, and all of us can bear witness to it.” The man who spoke seemed well pleased with the outcome, as did several others. Likely he’d won money from the fight.
Amelia’s mood grew even more despondent, for it meant that Lord Lisford hadn’t listened to her pleas. She’d hoped that she could reform him, helping him to become a better man. Now she was questioning it.
Was this the man you wanted? her conscience taunted.
Of course it was. And yet she didn’t like seeing him so defeated. A gentleman should never fight in public—it was a scandal and against the law. She didn’t like this side to him, and it was sobering to know that Lord Lisford had ignored common sense for the promise of money.
What stunned her more was the look on Margaret’s face. Her prim and proper sister appeared delighted to see the viscount bloodied and broken on the ground. When Margaret met Cain Sinclair’s gaze, the Highlander’s mouth curved in a smile as if to say, I did this for you.
It didn’t appear that Mr. Sinclair had expended any effort at all in the boxing match. His arms were crossed, and he stared down at Lord Lisford as if he were as insignificant as dust. In contrast, the viscount’s face showed signs of perspiration and fatigue.
“He needs help,” Amelia murmured to the earl.
“He’ll be all right.” Lord Castledon showed no sympathy at all. “We should leave.”
“Will you…help him?” she murmured. The earl turned back to her, and in his blue eyes, she saw the reluctance. “Please.”
He didn’t want to; she could see that. But in the end, he gave a nod. “Stay here with your sister.”
Lord Castledon walked through the crowd until he reached Lisford’s side. He started to guide the man out, but before they went any farther, the viscount lunged for the Highlander.
The earl seized Lisford by the shoulders before he could throw a punch. Amelia was shocked, for Lord Castledon had hardly moved at all. He merely kept a strong grip upon the viscount, immovable as a granite wall.
Now where had that come from? She’d never suspected that the earl had that sort of strength. His face held determination, and when Lord Lisford tried to wrench himself free, Castledon dragged him back. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“He’s a bastardly gullion, and I’m going to pull his arse through his rib cage!”
Amelia wanted to clap her hands over her ears. The viscount was half-wild with anger, and she strongly suspected he was foxed. She’d never seen the man like this, and instead of appearing deliciously dangerous…he resembled a fool.
Margaret’s and the earl’s warnings came crashing down on her, and she sobered. This wasn’t the sort of husband she wanted. Not if he was going to behave like this.
Slowly, she walked toward Lord Castledon, past the onlookers. The moment the viscount saw her, he reddened with embarrassment.
“Miss Amelia. I—I’m sorry you saw this.”
“So am I,” she answered quietly. “But you chose a very public place. I can’t imagine why.”
“It was part of a wager. I was promised a large sum, just for agreeing to the boxing match.”
“But why here? Why not host it within a private club?”
The viscount shrugged. “It was arranged to allow a wider audience. More people could come if it was held here.”
And more people would witness his humiliation, Amelia realized. Had he really believed he could defeat a man like Cain Sinclair? Or had Cain arranged the match, wanting vengeance for what had happened to Margaret? It had been years ago, and it made no sense why he would do this now.
Amelia offered the viscount her handkerchief, leading him away. “Did you already collect the money for the match?”
He shook his head. “I wagered it again, because I had planned on beating Sinclair.”
The dismay in her stomach sank lower. “I thought you had agreed to stop making wagers until you were out of debt.”
The Earl of Castledon remained a short distance away, but his gaze was fixed upon the viscount and herself. It was as if he was watching over her, ensuring that Lord Lisford did nothing to harm her.
She swallowed hard, recognizing that there was much more to the earl than she’d ever imagined. Lord Castledon possessed great strength to hold back the viscount in the midst of a fight. He was a man of honor, while Lord Lisford was a man who could not stop gambling.
“I apologize for my conduct, Miss Andrews. I hope it does not mean you have given up on me,” the viscount said quietly. “It seems I need more help than I’d thought.”
More financial help, Amelia was sure he meant. She sighed. “I wanted to believe that you would try again. That there was more to you than a man who enjoys taking risks.”
“There is,” he insisted, as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “And we are more alike than you know.” He stepped nearer to her, and she couldn’t help but notice that he was shorter than the earl. “Both of us want to seize life and enjoy every moment of it. We seek pleasure, you and I.”
His voice had grown deeper, as if he were trying to seduce her. And Amelia couldn’t help but wonder how many women had succumbed to this man’s charms. He seemed to know precisely what to say.
“I cannot wed a man who squanders his money,” she said. “If you continue down this path of pleasure seeking, as you call it, it will lead to ruin. If you’re not there already.”
From the slight discomfort on his face, she guessed that he was.
“I need to return to my sister,” Amelia said. In the near distance, she saw Margaret standing by Mr. Sinclair. Though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she didn’t miss the tension between them. The Highlander was staring at her sister as if he wanted to steal her away. As for Margaret…there was both frustration and interest on her face.
“I hope I will see you at a soirée later this week, perhaps?”
She studied him, and in Lord Lisford’s hazel eyes, she saw an air of desperation. If she told him no, he might pursue her even more. It was a blow to her pride, knowing that she’d believed in him. Her girlish dreams of wedding the handsome viscount were nothing but air.
“Perhaps,” she said. But she had already decided not to see him again.
Chapter Five
I don’t trust the viscount,” David said to Margaret as they waited for Amelia to return. “He looks as if he’s trying to sell something.”
“You have good instincts.” She sent him a sidelong glance before frowning. “Viscount Lisford has a silver tongue. There are dozens of women he’s romanced and set aside.” She said nothing of herself, but he saw the trace of bitterness on her face. “I’ll murder him before I’ll let him hurt Amelia.”
“Then we are in agreement.” Even as he spoke, he noticed how her gaze followed Mr. Sinclair. “Who is the Scot?”
“A family friend.” Though she kept her voice even, he recognized a shield when he saw one. Not only did Miss Andrews know this man, but he suspected her defensiveness was there for a reason.
“If he is indeed a friend, shall I escort you over to speak with him?”
Her face flooded with color. “N-no. It wouldn’t be proper.” But her eyes gave a different story. Whether it was a harmless infatuation or a secret kept from her family, it was clear that Sinclair was one of the reasons Miss Andrews had remained unmarried.
Amelia joined them, and she appeared miserable. Before either of them could speak, she held up her hand. “I know you were right about Lord Lisford. But I don’t wish to hear ‘I told you so.’ Not just now.”
David offered her his arm, and she took it, but he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He didn’t know what the viscount had said to Amelia, but he was relieved to see that she seemed well aware of the man’s character.
“Do you want to see more of the gardens?” he suggested.
“What I want is to crawl into a corner and cry,” she admitted. “But I won’t.”
“I would prefer it if you didn’t. I can’t say that I enjoy seeing a woman cry.” He led the two women toward the roses, but he suspected that it was likely best to take them home again.
Margaret Andrews, however, was glancing toward Mr. Sinclair. She was hanging back, and David suspected she only wanted a reason to slip away. He nodded to her silently and increased the pace, walking with Amelia at his side. Soon enough, Margaret had reached the Highlander.
“What are you doing—where is my sister?” Amelia queried.
“She has gone to speak with Mr. Sinclair. They are having a secret love affair, and no one is supposed to know.” He kept his tone dry, as if he were speaking of nothing important. By way of an afterthought, he added, “You see, I can talk about topics more interesting than the weather.”
Amelia’s mouth dropped open. “That’s impossible.”
David shrugged. “You needn’t look so surprised. Anyone with eyes would recognize how she feels about the man.”
“Our parents will kill her.” Amelia gaped and started forward before David caught her hand and held her back. “She swore she’d marry nothing less than a viscount.”
“I don’t think she would appreciate your interference just now.” He guided her toward the landau, where their servants stood waiting. “She’ll be along in a few moments.”
“I cannot believe her hypocrisy! She was lecturing me about how inappropriate Viscount Lisford was, when all the while she was carrying on with Mr. Sinclair.”
“Let her be.” Miss Andrews’s behavior was of little importance, but it had clearly made a strong impression on Amelia. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But she was supposed to marry you.” Amelia allowed him to help her into the landau, and from the dismay on her face, he realized that this was not about Margaret’s choices, but rather, about Amelia’s decisions.
“I already knew we weren’t suited to marry,” he told her. Miss Andrews was a decent enough woman, but he couldn’t imagine her with Christine. His daughter would torment Margaret if the young woman made any attempt to rein in her spirit.
He realized he was still holding Amelia’s gloved hand in his own from when he’d helped her inside. And she wasn’t fighting him at all. Instead, she stared at him.
“Give her a chance, my lord. This was just an indiscretion.” Her green eyes were pleading with him, and she squeezed his hand.
She’s just a girl, his mind insisted. Far too young. But the expression on her face held sadness. “Margaret deserves to be happy.”
“As do you,” he felt compelled to point out.
She released his hand, folding her palms together. “I don’t suppose I was suited to marry Lord Lisford.”
“You will find someone,” he promised. “And you’ll be happy.”
“So will you,” she said. “If you’re willing to open your eyes and try.”
For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was talking about the two of them. He had a sudden vision of Amelia Andrews reaching out to embrace him. He suspected she wouldn’t know how to kiss a man. Innocent and untouched, he imagined the taste of her soft lips, the touch of her hands.
Desire roared through him, and he was stunned at the dormant needs that had suddenly flared to life. No. Not now, not with an impulsive slip of a girl. He wasn’t ready to let go of Katherine. This marriage was meant for Christine, not him.
Before he could speak another word, Amelia added, “If not my sister, then perhaps Miss Harrow or someone else on the list.”
He inhaled a sharp breath, thankful that he’d misunderstood her. “Perhaps.”
Margaret returned to them, and her face was flushed as if she’d been running. A few strands of hair were loose around her face, and he suspected what that meant. He risked a glance at Amelia, wondering if she knew what her sister had been doing.
“I am sorry,” Margaret said quickly. Without explaining her reasons, she said brightly, “What did I miss whilst I was gone?”
David sent a conspiratorial look toward Amelia. “Nothing. We were merely discussing the weather.”
Beatrice walked inside her bedroom and was startled to see Henry standing in front of her wardrobe, staring at her gowns.
“Is something the matter?” She couldn’t understand why he was here. Although he was her husband and had every right to be in her bedchamber, it seemed as if he’d been searching her belongings. It was almost intrusive.
Henry didn’t move from his position, and he touched one of the day dresses. “When was the last time you bought a new gown for yourself?”
“Five years ago,” Beatrice admitted. And truthfully, she’d been ashamed to wear it. She’d felt as if she were trying to be one of the debutantes, seeking a husband. When another gentleman had given her his attention, it had unnerved her. She was past forty, well beyond the days when being beautiful meant something.
