Page 28 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
Romeo & Juliet
Richmond, Virginia, United States of America, end of February 1814
Amelia resigned herself to the incessant stomping of the horses’ hooves on the hard-frozen ground. The full moon sent silvery beams through the windowpanes belonging to the carriage. Outside, the snowy landscape was cast under a moonshine kiss. Nothing could have been more romantic had the circumstance been different.
Next to her, Jonathan brooded in silence. Their supper had come to an abrupt end after the announcement of his plans to bring Amelia back to her family. His motives were nothing but honorable. He wanted to keep to his word and do the right thing by Amelia. And yet, he could not help but think that honor was completely misplaced in this instant. Amelia was not happy. He could feel the energy course between them. It was like an invisible barrier that drew them closer only to force them apart again.
What should he have done? Jonathan knew the answer. Jake had told him as much. “Follow your heart, and you will know what to do.” His heart had screamed at him back in the dining room. It had alternated to soft but insistent whispers when he did not react, telling him with barely audible commands what he had to do. They had been clear, so very clear that they were unmistakable.
The moment Jonathan had opened his mouth; his brain usurped his begging heart’s commands. In the face of cerebral superiority, it had collapsed into lachrymose inertia. The battle had been lost. Misplaced reason defeated beautiful, emotional illogicality with an army of past experiences that had nothing to do with what was going on. As in most cases, people tend to trust what they think they know even though that which their mind presents them feels like the worst thing to do.
Before Jonathan knew it, he found himself telling her about his plan to return her to where he thought she belonged. He had tried to stop speaking, but it had been too late. The shock was there, written right across her face. Amelia wanted to stay even though she didn’t truly know it yet.
Now, it was up to Jonathan to make her believe, to make her see that he was the right man for her, no matter what that entailed. He knew it now. His heart had taken over once more. His instincts shouted at him to do what his heart commanded. Reason chimed in with its customary attempts, but the game was up. Jonathan knew that now – he would let his heart rein this night and his heart alone.
The chemistry between them was there. Jonathan felt it like he would feel the sun’s rays on his skin on a summer’s morning. There was no denying that fact. Amelia wanted him as much as he wanted her. No matter their origins, their patriotic beliefs or the manner in which they had met, none of it could stand in the face of what was there.
Jonathan pressed his lips together as his mind fashioned more things that made a union between the two of them feasible and more than that, magical. His gloved hand slid over the leather bench. It did not stop until he felt hers, her little finger at first.
Amelia felt Jonathan’s hand before it touched hers. His movements were initially tentative, discovering and careful. When she gave no response, his fingers slid up the back of her hand, interlinking with hers. Without her being able to do something about it, her hand turned and opened up like a flower’s blossom, basking under the sun’s rays.
They remained like that in silence, touching but not moving. Amelia felt the heat off his skin despite the gloves they wore. It felt so right no matter the words he had uttered back at the hotel.
She tried to immerse herself in the moment. They held hands as if they were strolling, just two people who felt intimacy toward one another. Amelia knew what closeness between a man and a woman was. She had just never experienced it.
Thoughts of William Shakespeare came to mind. Was she Juliet and he Romeo? Had their chance meeting on board two different ships, flying different colors, in the Atlantic Ocean been love at first sight – just like when Romeo snuck into the Capulet’s house to attend the ball and when he laid eyes on Juliette for the first time.
Had her subconscious mind spoken of Jonathan like Juliet had done of Romeo in the orchard outside the house where Juliet spoke of the unimportance of a name in the face of love? Had she not thought the same? Despite their truculence concerning the war, was not their burgeoning love that was but a whisper, more important than the fate of nations?
Amelia began to whisper, oh so very lightly. Her initial words were pounded into oblivion by the angry horses’ hooves. Her mouth became more forceful, coaxing forth volume from deep down where her lungs lay. She recited Shakespeare’s words. They were aptly suited. For what greater love existed than that between Romeo and Juliet.
“Tis but thy name that is my enemy:
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which heowes
Without that title. Romeo,doff thy name,
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.”
The last words trailed off into the night, lost into the secret annals of lovers’ delight. Amelia felt Jonathan’s hand squeeze hers. He had heard her.
“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I’ll be new batis’d; henceforth, I never will be Romeo.”
