Page 44 of War of the Wedding Wagers
Amelia felt trapped. She didn’t want to put it into words. Why, it was ungentlemanly of him to make her. But it appeared he really did want her answer.
Crossly she said, “Hearts are not to be trifled with. And now I have this foolish word ‘heartbreak’ that Lady Pendleton has given me to mime. There! I’ve told you the word. Now, if you have an ounce of gentlemanliness and want to atone for this afternoon, you can stand in the crowd and pretend I’ve done such a fine job at acting it out that you’ve guessed it.” It was a relief to get all that out in the open and Amelia finished on a laugh as she saw his features relax.
Then his smile softened and, briefly, he touched her forearm. “I consider myself a gentleman at all times, Miss Fairchild. Even during our ride—or rather, on the ground and by the trees—for I did honestly believe I had enough encouragement that my actions were still those of a gentleman. Having honor and decency does not preclude indulging in a little innocent enjoyment from time to time. Does it?”
Amelia wasn’t sure if she felt entirely at peace with his answer. For a start, the unexpected tingling she felt at his touch had been exceedingly distracting, so that it was difficult to attend to his next words. But then his talk of indulging in a little innocent enjoyment when there was sufficient encouragement made some of it drain away. Did he really just consider their encounter as a one-off little piece of enjoyment?
And there was the contradiction in her heart. Sir Frederick most definitely made her go a little weak at the knees, but he was a man with a healthy reputation for dalliances. It probably massaged his ego that he’d managed to kiss the standoffish MissFairchild. Perhaps he’d set it up as a challenge. Perhaps she was no different a conquest than Mrs. Perry.
The thought made her stiffen as she remembered Mrs. Perry laughing at Amelia behind her back. But Sir Frederick hadn’t actually endorsed her opinions. And then he’d kissed Amelia.
Her feelings about him were all very confusing, but, of course, after this house party, she’d probably not see him again.
So, forcing all these conflicting thoughts into abeyance, she said, “I suppose we are all different, so find enjoyment in different ways. I find mine in books mostly.” There, that should make it clear where she stood.
He nodded. “So, you prefer to read about Miss Elizabeth Bennett and Darcy kissing rather than actually… kissing?”
Heat flooded Amelia’s entire body at the words and images and recollections they conjured. She’d enjoyed kissing him immensely, but she could never tell him that the physical experience was far superior to reading about Miss Elizabeth and Darcy’s romantic dalliances inPride and Prejudice.
“Come now, everyone!” Lady Pendleton’s imperious summons saved Amelia from answering and with a weak smile she took a seat in the audience, as directed, while the three Miss Ps went up towards the dais, clearly first on the program this evening.
Miss Playford stepped up first, miming the act of carrying something on her arm as she sauntered across the stage, shading her eyes as if she were looking for something in the distance.
“You’re outside in the countryside!” someone shouted from the audience and with a bright smile, Miss Playford nodded before she turned to beckon to her two friends who jauntily crossed the stage before they appeared to consult over a matter, nodding as Miss Penny mimed the act of shaking out something before they gracefully sat upon the ground.
“You’re in the countryside sitting on a blanket!” someone else cried out, as the Miss Ps, ignoring the various suggestions, pretended to pluck things from a basket, savoring various pretend dishes in great harmony.
“A picnic in the countryside!” someone shouted, and the girls laughed in agreement before, in a final act of comedy, Miss Playford pointed a finger at a pretend object, gave a little shriek, which was echoed by the other young ladies who immediately put everything back in the pretend basket, folded up the picnic blanket, and exited the stage.
“A picnic in the countryside invaded by ants!” cried Mr. Greene, and Caroline turned to look at him over her shoulder while the audience laughed at her high-spirited response: a large, theatrical wink.
Amelia glanced at Sir Frederick, who was seated beside her. His laughter had been truncated by his sister’s final flirtatious act and Amelia tapped him on the thigh to whisper, “It’s the spirit of the evening that’s important. Don’t judge your sister so harshly or by other standards. I’ve already been proved wrong and really don’t know where I got the idea that Caroline was about to do something so spectacularly foolish, and now I’m ashamed of myself. But please allow her a little of the latitude you seem to grant everyone else, including yourself.”
Immediately, he relaxed and smiled across at her. “Your wise counsel does you credit, Miss Fairchild, and I shall heed it. I’m far too much the overbearing big brother at times, and it’s good to have you remind me of it. Now, I hear your name being called. Go forth and astound us with your acting skills. I have every confidence that you’ll be far better than you imagine.”
But Amelia wasn’t.
She felt wooden as she stepped onto the dais and suddenly, to her horror, struck dumb by the sea of faces before her. Why, it was ridiculous. She’d played to a company larger thanthis…admittedly angled away from them and with a large floral arrangement on the pianoforte, screening her as per her request.
And she’d stood at her father’s side in her earlier years and read poetry. Yes, serious, important words by learned men. And she’d been applauded and politely complimented by the serious, learned men her father cultivated.
Unlike her mama, Mr. Fairchild had had a reputation for being a man of exceedingly moderate temperament. Amelia had always striven to be compared with him rather than her darling pea goose of a mama whom Edward most definitely took after.
But now she had to enact a ridiculous word and the sight of all these houseguests who had been talking and laughing and having so much fun earlier but who’d now gone silent and were watching her, judging her, made her throat dry and her courage drain away.
She tried to suck in a breath, but her airways were constricted. She felt her panic grow and the earth seemed to fall away. This was not at all the way she wanted to portray herself, but it was as if she were an insect trapped in aspic and incapable of movement… Except for the clasped hands at her breast.
Mortification. She’d never felt it so greatly.
“Heart! Something about a heart, Miss Fairchild.”
A murmur went about the room, the activity on account of Sir Frederick’s words suddenly galvanizing Amelia into movement. Air filled her lungs, and she felt vitality seep through her veins.
Directing a grateful look at him, she tightened her clasped hands at her breast and nodded while she tried to shake her brain into similar activity and even remember the word.
Heartbreak.
Yes, Sir Frederick had named the first part, and now she must mime the second. She must pretend to break something. It would be easy. She’d just pluck an imaginary vase from the air and toss it to the ground and then everyone would know she’dbroken it and her agony on stage would be over in a heartbeat as Sir Frederick would gallantly shout “Heartbreak.”
