Page 23 of War of the Wedding Wagers
At her silence, Sir Frederick turned to look at her, raising his eyebrows as he obviously saw her expression. “My apologies if I spoke carelessly, Miss Fairchild. As it has been more than five years, I had thought it safe to think you’d accepted the past.”
Again, how could Sir Frederick speak as if Thomas’s death were something she could ever accept. Frostily, she said, “It’s all very well for you, who did not endure the horrors of war. Thomas’s sacrifice is something that of course I have to accept but there is no other man who can come close to equaling him in honor and nobility. It is one of the reasons I intend retiring to the country.”
“Once you’ve come into your inheritance?” Miss Playford clarified. “How fortunate you are to have an inheritance. I have no dowry, but it is my aunt’s hope that as my late father was a war hero, this can be overlooked. She says my connections are good and that I’m fair enough of face to warrant some attention.”
Her disclosure was so artless that Amelia felt a wave of shame to have spoken earlier in such a maudlin and defensive fashion. She should have recalled that Miss Playford’s father had been recognized as a war hero, fighting by the side of the great Admiral Nelson, that hero of the country, though Rear Admiral Nathaniel Playford had died some years later.
“I suppose I can understand your feelings, though,” Miss Playford went on, “for my mother died of grief some months after Papa’s death, which left me in the care of my aunt who really could have done without such a responsibility, she’s always told me. That’s why I intend to make a match this season since she doesn’t want the burden of me too much longer.”
“You must be discerning,” Amelia cautioned, suddenly worried as she drew level with Miss Playford. “Marriage is a lifelong contract. It is not something to rush into.”
“I really see no alternative,” said Miss Playford. “While I am here, I will meet many potential husbands. My aunt has pointed many of them out to me already.”
Amelia noticed that her glance at Sir Frederick was fleeting. Did she wonder if she had a chance with him?
Did she?
Amelia squared her shoulders. Miss Playford and Sir Frederick would make an excellent pair, she thought with even greater determination.
Sir Frederick simply didn’t know it yet.
Chapter Fourteen
The tower.
Amelia glanced at Miss Playford as they set their footsteps in the direction of the tower. She’d firmly declined Sir Frederick’s offer to carry her across the grass—despite the surge of feeling his words occasioned.
Now Sir Frederick was assuring them that only a couple of steps were unstable, and he knew which ones. Apparently, it was part of Lady Pendleton’s ruse to keep all those away other than the few who understood its dangers—like Sir Frederick.
“Remember, she’s given different clues to everyone. We’ll be perfectly safe. If Sir Frederick says so,” Miss Playford said comfortably as they reached the gravel path that circumnavigated the castle itself.
A few guests were gathered near the rose garden and Amelia recognized Miss Caroline’s tinkling laugh. A sharp glance in that direction suggested that Sir Frederick did, too.
But when Henry’s laughter joined hers, he relaxed, until another voice intruded.
Mr. Greene was there, too. Of course, Caroline was being chaperoned, and Mr. Pipkin’s desultory presence was the shadow Amelia could see in the distance, but the fact that Miss Caroline had nevertheless engineered a grouping that included Mr. Greene was dismaying.
“She’s very young and the novelty will wear off. Maybe even more quickly if she doesn’t meet such fierce opposition to her predilection for his company,” Amelia said, briefly putting her hand on his arm and feeling his tension.
“And what might you know about protecting someone you love from their worst impulses,” Sir Frederick growled, barely attending to her, his focus was so squarely upon his sister who’d tucked her hand into Mr. Greene’s arm for a brief moment before Henry intervened in a lighthearted manner.
“My softhearted younger brother’s misguided efforts to affect the happiness of those he loves has been known to have unfortunate consequences, Sir Frederick,” Amelia said stiffly, withdrawing her hand and moving forward to flank Miss Playford. If Sir Frederick could lose his manners so quickly, she thought, he would be well left alone.
In silence, the three of them traversed the path around the castle. Amelia was surprised at the number of people outside, though she supposed she shouldn’t be given the balmy weather and the beautiful grounds.
A deep, masculine voice intruded on their silence.
“Sir Frederick, how goes it with you? Are you leading your ladies to victory, do you suppose?”
Amelia glanced up to see Lord Thornton bearing down upon them.
“We have only one clue remaining,” said Miss Playford, happily. “I’m sure we’re going to win, for we’ve been ever so quick to guess.”
“What a clever trio, for the four other groups participating are not yet on their third clue. I’d better not hold you up then.”
“Three heads are better than one, and it’s been my good fortune to have been teamed with exceptionally clever young ladies,” Sir Frederick said, finding his good manners at last, thought Amelia.
Not that it made her feel any more charitable towards him. Clearly, Sir Frederick was a grumpy and gloomy fellow when not actively prodded to be otherwise. And Amelia certainly didn’t intend being the person upon whom it fell to cajole him into a good temper every day. It was just as well she knew how manufactured his charming façade was, she told herself as Lord Thornton disappeared towards Caroline and her group.
