Page 11 of War of the Wedding Wagers
“I did think him a fine young man all those years ago,” Mrs. Fairchild persisted. “Why, before Thomas—”
Amelia’s hand jerked away from the locket she’d been fingering. The one Thomas had given her. “You thought Sir Frederick a fine young man?” she repeated, her voice sharper than she intended. “When could you ever have thought that? When Thomas went to fight for King and country, Sir Frederick disappeared to the Continent for many years of revelry.” Her voice caught slightly on the word “disappeared,” remembering that last assembly before he’d left.
He’d kissed her.
It was something she’d never forget.
The tension in her voice made Edward look at her curiously, but before her wide-eyed mother could respond, the footman had slammed the door, and they were trotting down the driveway.
“Thank you for not revealing to Mama what I’d done.” Edward looked downcast for only a second before he leaned forward, his eyes bright with that dangerous gleam Amelia had come to dread. “But this weekend will be a master stroke in cunning and ingenuity. And I feel sure that the consequences of my actions that have put you so out of countenance will result in great rewards. Sir Frederick will find the wife of his dreams, and your inheritance will be doubled.”
Amelia smiled at him. How could she feel cross with Edward for long with his enthusiasm to not only atone but to make everything even better? Yet that familiar twist of anxiety in her stomach reminded her of how his “improvements” typically ended—with her scrambling to contain the damage.
“Well, please consult me before you embark on anything too outrageous. Two heads are better than one.”
Edward chuckled as he patted the large wooden box on the seat beside him. “I didn’t think you’d seen what I had speciallymade, but yes, it is a second head which I shall wear as part of my costume for the Masquerade Ball.” His fingers drummed an excited rhythm on the box’s lid.
“Who? Janus?” Amelia couldn’t hide her surprise, nor the note of apprehension that crept into her voice.
“Janus indeed, and a nod to my love of Roman mythology, and fascination for the god of beginnings, transitions, and some other things I’ve since forgotten. The head has two faces looking in opposite directions. You will be astonished, as will all the young ladies who’ll think me awfully cultured.” He sat back, clearly pleased with himself.
Amelia shuddered, watching the autumn landscape blur past the carriage window. “A ghost is bad enough but a head with a face on both sides is bound to send any young lady running in the opposite direction.”
“And if that opposite direction is into the arms of Sir Frederick, then isn’t that clever? Oh, do compliment me on my imagination, Amelia. You think you’re the imaginative one of the family.” The carriage hit a rut, making Edward’s box slide slightly on the seat. He quickly steadied it with a protective hand.
“Oh, not true at all. You, Edward, have often shown you have the imagination for more than the two of us.”
“I do have a good imagination, don’t I, sis?” Edward looked smug while inside Amelia quailed. There was a time when Edward had confided everything to his sister, when they’d shared secrets over stolen biscuits in the nursery and plotted harmless pranks together in the garden. But lately, with the wager being the worst of it, he was increasingly acting spontaneously. The fact Edward had not told her of his costume suggested he might well have other plans up his sleeves that he’d not consulted about with Amelia. She watched him frombeneath her lashes as he hummed contentedly to himself, wondering what other surprises he had in store.
So much depended upon the next few days.
And one misstep could mean disaster.
Chapter Eight
It was middaywhen they arrived at Lady Pendleton’s grand castle. The impressive stone structure loomed against the pale sky, its tower reaching up like an accusing finger. Though apparently mostly unused, today the castle stirred with new life.
Really, Amelia decided, as she stepped out of their carriage, its only resemblance to a ghost-ridden castle in some fairytale was the castle tower which, Amelia was informed by the housekeeper as she led her and Edward towards the drawing room, could be reached only by some crumbling stairs.
Lady Pendleton was already welcoming the first of the guests when they were announced, and in the middle of explaining the layout of the castle.
“But while the tower cannot be safely accessed and so will be out of bounds, there are many other hiding places and unexpected nooks and crannies that no doubt harbor all the ghosties and ghoulies we could wish for,” she said, as she gestured toward the comfortable chairs. “Do sit down while the servants take your trunks to your rooms. Miss Playford and Miss Penny arrived a short while ago with their aunt and mama who are out in the garden. I believe you have already been introduced?”
Edward sent his sister a significant look as they nodded at the two young ladies, Miss Playford’s golden curls bright in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.
“It’s going to be such an exciting weekend,” Miss Penny said with girlish enthusiasm. “Miss Playford and I have made a wager as to who will discover the first ghost.”
“But you don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?” Amelia asked before she could stop herself.
“But of course! I mean, how could I not?” replied the young lady before shrugging prettily. “I dare say we’ll all know whether they do or don’t before we go home.”
“Hopefully unscathed,” Edward said with dark portent and a twinkle in his eye, causing both young ladies to titter and exchange glances.
“Though hopefully there will be some handsome gentlemen on hand to rescue us,” Miss Playford added, smoothing her already immaculate skirts. “That is why my aunt decided she was prepared to travel farther than she usually does. She also says if I scream and jump onto a chair if I see a mouse, then this should get me used to anything.” She glanced toward the doorway as if hoping a particular gentleman might materialize. “Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Fairchild?”
“Not in the slightest,” Amelia said, straightening her spine. “Ghosts are nothing but a ridiculous concept used by charlatans to further their own ends but if you’re happy for a handsome gentleman to rescue you from a mythical being that in your heart you know doesn’t exist, then that’s what we’re here for. Nothing but a bit of fun and frivolity.”
“That’s not really what you’re renowned for, is it, Miss Fairchild?” came a familiar voice from the doorway, and Amelia’s heart gave a surprising leap as she swung round and found herself looking up into Sir Frederick’s amused countenance. He filled the doorframe with his broad shoulders, and Amelia noticed with irritation how both Miss Ps immediately sat straighter, their faces brightening.
