Page 13 of The Earl's Wild Bride
“This is what is necessary,” Lionel replied. “I required a bride who, perhaps, was in need of her own independence. A bride who will not care too much about developing a relationship with me, as long as she has her freedom and is well taken care of.”
Caroline took hold of her grandson’s hand, squeezed it gently, and puffed out a sigh. “Oh, Lionel…”
“You cannot tell Rebecca any of that. She will not understand,” he urged, squeezing his grandmother’s hand in return. “Nor do I want her to ever worry. I want her to remain oblivious, Grandmother.”
Caroline nodded, her smile sad. “My lips will be as a locked box, dear boy.” She heaved out another, heavier sigh. “I just wish things were different.”
Lionel said nothing to that, for he had learned a long time ago that it was hopeless to wish. Wishing had never saved anyone.
“But why must it be so soon, Amelia?” Isolde gasped, struggling to sit up in her bed.
“That is precisely what I keep asking her,” Valery replied, moving to stack a few more pillows behind Isolde.
The physician had prescribed complete bedrest for Isolde, who had suffered constant nausea throughout the months of herpregnancy. She was large enough now that the doctor suspected she had two or three months left before giving birth, and it was clear that being bedridden was beginning to take its toll on Isolde’s patience.
“I did not ask,” Amelia said, perching on the window seat. “Nor have I spoken to him since. He sent word to my father that the special license had been acquired, and that is all I have heard.”
Though she had thought about him far more often, catching her mind wandering whenever she was in the midst of something tedious: listening to a lecture from her brother, perfecting her needlepoint, practicing the pianoforte though she had no talent for it.
Her imagination could not be bridled: daydreams of Lionel on a summer’s day, reading ‘Sleeping Beauty’ to her on a riverbank somewhere; fantasies of lavish picnics for just the two of them, him feeding her strawberries as he wooed her in French; vivid reveries of them dancing together in an empty ballroom to music only they could hear.
I might never have any of that, but at least I shall have a pleasanter existence than I would have had with the Baron… or with my brother and father, for that matter.Of course, the majority of that was wishful thinking, but it was the only thing preventing her from doing something even more reckless, like running away before her wedding day.
“Do you like him?” Isolde asked, sinking back into the pillows.
Amelia’s cheeks warmed, her gaze lowering. “He is… not unpleasant. And I cannot help but admire anyone who makes my brother squirm.”
Isolde looked at her curiously, as if seeing the unspoken things behind the words. As if seeing how often Amelia had thought of Lionel, and how nervous he made her. A strange kind of nervousness that brought temperate blushes instead of burning embarrassment.
“That is hardly a reason to marry him,” Valery muttered obliviously, no doubt feeling like she was losing another one of her friends to the institution she abhorred. “Come and live with me, instead. I shall shelter you from your brother and father.”
“They would drag me back,” Amelia said softly. “You know they would. This might not be what I wanted for myself exactly, but… it is freedom of its own kind.”
And she would keep telling herself that until she believed it.
“What does Edmund say about him?” Valery climbed up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged beside Isolde. Amelia perked up, curious to hear what her friend had to say.
Tilting her head from side to side, Isolde replied, “Edmund says he is a reasonable, respectable gentleman with a very shrewd mind for business. Distant at times, and not the warmest of people, but… yes, not unpleasant.” She frowned as if trying to solve a very difficult problem. “I believe he has a sister and agrandmother. An uncle, perhaps. Still, I cannot believe you have not spoken to him since.”
“Icannot believe our darling Amelia went to his townhouse in the dead of night, dressed as a gentleman!” Valery said, collapsing into raucous laughter. “I doubt I could be prouder of you if I tried.”
Amelia’s throat tightened. “I was desperate.”
“You were ingenious,” Valery corrected. “Why, I daresay you have singlehandedly enraged the entirety of theton. I have attempted to do the same thing for years with no success.”
“That is because you will not marry,” Isolde pointed out. “You might have done the same thing if you were not against the very idea of it.”
Valery nodded. “A fair point.” She lay back on the bed. “All I know is I shall miss you terribly, Amelia, though I promise I shall visit as soon as your honeymoon is over. I would visit earlier, but I would not want to be chased from the grounds for intruding.”
Turning her gaze out of the window, watching a blackbird peck at the lawn for a juicy worm, Amelia hoped it would not be such a long time before she saw this view again, before she felt the warmth of her friends again. She had never been away from London for the winter before, and could not fathom living in a drafty manor through the coldest months of the year.
But I should do as I am told. I should not make myself an inconvenience. And perhaps things shall be warmer than I expect them to be.Amelia could not forget how tenderly Lionel had wrapped her finger, nor how he had subtly shaken his head when she was about to lower her gaze.
“Do you know if your betrothed has sent the invitations yet?” Valery asked suddenly. “I have had the maid check the post tray every morning but have yet to receive mine.”
“Nor have I, or I would have known of it sooner,” Isolde agreed.
Amelia looked back at her friends, concern furrowing her brow. “But the wedding is two days away. You should have received them by now.” She shook away a dreadful thought. “I am certain they will arrive any moment. As wretched as my brother can be, he would not miss an opportunity to have the Duke and Duchess of Davenport at his sister’s wedding. If you are well enough to attend, of course.”
