Page 21 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
The surrounding countryside was magical. It reminded Amelia of home. She would often go for a ride with her father’s chief groom when they were on the family’s estate in Berkshire. The undulating landscape resembled an unblemished sheet of ice, reaching in all directions. It was the same in England in the winter. The only difference being that there were more signs of human life than in the Americas.
Amelia felt a pang of sadness engulf her. She thought of all that had happened so far. She was so far away from home and worried whether she would ever get back. And even if she could, would she want to. What did she have there? A mother and a father that wanted to elevate their social standing by pawning her off to the highest bidder and a betrothed who would be the bane of her life if the marriage ever took place.
“You all right, Amelia? You’ve been awfully quiet the entire time,” said Jonathan, leading his horse by the reins to where she stood.
Amelia snapped her head in his direction. She smiled wanly. She didn’t want to offer him any sweet gestures, but she was too preoccupied to resist the natural impulse. Jonathan had been nothing but courteous to her ever since she saw him that morning after her little faux pas during dinner the previous evening. He had been so successful that she felt bad for breaking up the dinner that had been so pleasant. Sometimes, she wished that she were not as brazen as she was.
He hadn’t been overly fawning in any way but gentle and charming. He had made sure that she and Anna had every comfort he was able to give them. Also, Jake had been more than forgiving. He and Anna had decided to go fishing by the stream while Jonathan showed Amelia around his estate as he had promised during dinner.
“I was just admiring the view,” said Amelia, shifting her gaze away from his handsome face, boasting pink cheeks from the cold.
“Yes, it is beautiful up here. I would often come here when I was a boy. There is no more peaceful place on earth,” he said, remounting his horse that fretted skittishly.
Amelia copied him when he urged his mount into motion. They started to descend the hill at a sedate pace in the direction of the cluster of houses she had seen earlier, their horses’ hooves crunching in the snow as they went. “Has your family always been here?” she asked. She vaguely remembered him mentioning something that his grandfather had laid the cornerstone for the house in the seventeen hundreds.
“Not always.” Jonathan thought a moment. “My family is originally from Scotland.” He smiled when he saw surprise register on her face.
“Scotland - speaking to a true Highlander, am I then?” It was the first thing that came to mind. Judging by his looks, she could get away with it.
“Did my red hair and height give me away?”
Amelia crinkled her nose as she flashed him a slight grin. Seeing him smile so much made him look almost endearing to her. It was infectious. But yes, his brawny stature and the color of his hair did kind of point to the Highlands. “Is that a yes?”
“Aye, lassie,” he said, imitating a Scottish accent. “I am a veritable Scotsman.”
“Not bad, not bad at all.” Amelia laughed at his awful impersonation that had sounded more like a frog rabbiting. “Where in Scotland?” she asked, letting the curiosity get the better of her.
“My family is originally from Kilmarie, a small place on the Isle of Skye.”
“Is it nice there? I have never been to Scotland although it is starting to become rather fashionable as of late – you know for summer holidays and the like. Of course, only for the upper classes, some of which claim that the land is magical and as if out of this world.”
“Of course, only the aristocrats can afford to go there – it is rather a long journey from the south of England,” said Jonathan sarcastically.
“What is so funny?” asked Amelia, scrunching her brow.
“Oh, nothing; just how you described it and English society…” he waved his hand in a rotating motion, “but no, I have never been. I would like to go though…if this damn war ever comes to an end.”
“Do you always have to bring that up?” Amelia scowled.
“Well, there is one raging all around us. Our ports are blockaded, trading has become more and more difficult as other British ships arrive, and young men march north to their deaths.” He shrugged. “It’s difficult to keep one’s mind off it when you look at it from that perspective, wouldn’t you agree?”
Amelia nodded. She patted the mare’s neck in thought. “I suppose so. I just don’t like talking about it. War is so vile and depressing.”
“Well, you did pretty well on the subject when we were still on board theTriton. You knew almost everything there was to know about the happenings here in the Americas,” needled Jonathan. He just couldn’t resist provoking her. However, seeing the expression on her face, he realized that she was not in the mood for one of their petty squabbles. “My family have noble origins, you know,” he added quickly before she could continue their line of conversation.
“Oh.”
“Yes. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Not really – you have impeccable manners when you want to. Someone in your family must’ve taught them to you.”
Jonathan chuckled. “That would be my mammy.”
Amelia frowned. “Your mammy?”
“Yes, the lady who raised me when my parents died during the War of Independence with the British. I was only four years old. That kind-hearted lady saved my life – well, she and Jake’s father did.”
There was more to Jonathan Mitchell than met the eye. Amelia had seen an elegantly attired elderly black lady roaming around his mansion that morning. By the way she comported herself, she was in charge of all of the household staff, and she ran the place as if it was her own and she the lady of the house. The affection Jonathan showed her had been obvious.
