Page 50 of War of the Wedding Wagers
Her eyes widened, as if his question were unusual. Then she seemed to lose herself in thought. “I think that sentimentality might be confused with kindness.”
“Precisely. And kindness is a virtue. And you, Miss Fairchild, are both kind and virtuous. Not sentimental. I apologize for being guilty of confusing the two.” Slowly, he extended his hand to grip hers, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss.
The room was very quiet suddenly. Only the gentle hiss and crackle of the fire could be heard over the hushed and muted whisperings of the ancient castle. In a moment of fancy that might have embarrassed him in a more rational moment, he imaged the ghosts of the long-dead lovers, Pernilla and William, watching with quiet satisfaction as he leaned over to put his arm about her shoulders to draw her closer so that he could gently touch his lips to hers.
He felt her response; a quiet exhalation of pleasure as she succumbed. She liked it. The previous kiss in the fields had been fueled by something more urgent, but this was an extension of his compliment; his recognition and appreciation of her virtueand her kindness in being invested in the happiness of others, while at the same time she seemed to decry happiness for herself.
But too quickly she broke the kiss, though he was sure he sensed it caused her effort and was not done through anything other than that same cursed emotion: the belief that she was wrong to accept pleasure.
She stood up quickly, still clutching the letters to her. “It’s very late, Sir Frederick, and I must get some sleep if I’m to be a good guest in the morning, for Lady Pendleton has solicited my help with some of her entertainments.”
“Very well, Miss Fairchild, if that is what you’d prefer.”
“I… I’m not saying I prefer it, but I do think it would be best,” she said, awkwardly. “Good night, Sir Frederick.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Amelia hurried backto her bedchamber, clutching the letters against her chest as she berated herself for her… what?
Lapse in judgment?
All she knew was that she was proving far too susceptible to Sir Frederick’s advances. She was no different to Mrs. Perry or the young ladies. Regardless of age, they all blushed and preened when he sought them out.
No doubt, Sir Frederick had come to the library when he’d been unable to sleep because he remembered he’d found Amelia there two nights earlier and he wanted a diversion. She was a little fool if she thought his interest was for any other reason than to amuse himself.
That’s what Thomas had said about the dandelions who swaggered about with their puffed-out chests, and who flicked the ribbons of their phaetons pulled by horse flesh Amelia knew was well beyond the limits of most of those she knew. All they were interested in was cutting a dash and finding pleasure where they could.
Thomas had come from a respectable family. But they decried ostentation.
And as she admired the lovely gowns of the women, both young and old, as they amused themselves about the castle gardens on such a beautiful day, it occurred to her that Thomas would have been filled with scorn.
As for herself, she suddenly wished she had a beautiful white muslin gown with a blue sash, like Miss Playford’s, rather than the perfectly respectable but quite outdated gown she was wearing.
“My dear Amelia, you’re all alone!” Lady Townsend beckoned her over, adding as she hooked her hand in Amelia’s elbow, “And where is Sir Frederick?”
“Sir Frederick?” Amelia repeated, immediately regretting the shock and guilt in her tone for Lady Townsend angled an interested look up at her and asked, “I can’t help noticing the way Sir Frederick looks at you and I wonder if you return his regard.”
Caught on the spot, Amelia was, for a moment, tongue-tied. “He is a very dashing gentleman,” she said, “who obviously has an eye for the ladies. I did notice his interest in the widow Perry and would not imagine that his supposed interest in me was any different.”
“Come now, don’t be coy, Miss Fairchild. You are just the kind of young lady Sir Frederick is looking for: serene, beautiful, intelligent, and level-headed. The widow Perry and the young Miss Ps are much too showy or flirtatious.”
“I think that is exactly what Sir Frederick wants,” Amelia said with perhaps too much energy as she recalled, with embarrassment, the dismay she felt when she saw Sir Frederick’s flirtatious manner with the widow the previous night.
How different that was to his more serious conversation with her in the library. It only confirmed that he was adept at adjusting his manner to suit whichever young lady he wished to enjoy in a particular moment.
Amelia had discovered this just in time and made her excuses to leave the library before he refined his approach and, moreimportantly, lulled Amelia into doing even more unmaidenly things than kissing him.
“I’ve read all the letters between Pernilla and William,” Amelia now said to change the subject.
“Did you, my dear?” Lady Townsend smiled. “And are you sure that half of them were not written by Lady Pendleton?”
Amelia frowned. “Do you not believe that they document the real-life love story of Lady Pendleton’s great-great aunt and the man she loved? A man who was more respectable than she believes?”
“Oh, look, my dear. There is Mr. Greene in his phaeton. And Miss Caroline is with him! Don’t they make quite a pair?”
Amelia jerked her head around and was surprised at such a public spectacle of favor on Caroline’s part, for, since yesterday, Amelia had seen a cluster of young ladies in Mr. Greene’s orbit. She really had thought the danger had been averted, but now this?
She looked about for Sir Frederick, but he was nowhere to be seen.
