Page 69 of War of the Wedding Wagers
“Miss Caroline! What a lovely surprise. I was just looking for you—Lady Pendleton has been asking after you. Something about the musical entertainment planned for this evening?”
Caroline jumped guiltily, her cheeks flaming. Mr. Greene’s expression darkened for just a moment before smoothing into its usual bland charm.
“Miss Fairchild. How…fortunate we are to encounter you.” His tone suggested quite the opposite.
“Indeed.” Amelia smiled pleasantly while hooking her arm through Caroline’s. “Shall we return to the house? The evening air is growing quite chill.”
Caroline allowed herself to be led away, though Amelia noticed how she glanced back at Mr. Greene. His face, when Amelia dared a quick look, was thunderous.
She’d prevented the immediate danger, but Amelia knew this was far from over. Mr. Greene was not a man to give up easily, especially not with so much potentially at stake. As they walked back to the house, she squeezed Caroline’s arm gently.
“You know,” she said carefully, “I once knew a young lady who was tempted to make a hasty decision regarding marriage. She very nearly threw away everything—her family’s trust, her reputation, her future happiness—all because a gentleman convinced her that dramatic gestures were proof of love.”
“What happened to her?” Caroline asked, her voice small.
“She was fortunate enough to have friends who helped her see that true love isn’t proved by grand gestures or secret meetings. It’s proved by patience, by respect for those who care about us, by willingness to face obstacles together openly rather than skulking about in shadows.”
Caroline was quiet for several steps. Then, “Did she regret not running away?”
“No,” Amelia said firmly. “Because she realized that any man who truly loved her would want to protect her reputation, notcompromise it. Would want to face her family proudly, not skulk about like a thief in the night.”
They had reached the house. Caroline paused at the door, her young face troubled. “Miss Fairchild?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For… for coming to find me.”
Amelia squeezed her arm again before releasing it. “That’s what friends are for, my dear. Now, shall we see what Lady Pendleton has planned for the evening’s entertainment?”
As they entered the house, Amelia’s mind was already racing ahead. She needed to find Sir Frederick. Between them, they would find a way to protect Caroline from Mr. Greene’s machinations without pushing the headstrong girl further into his arms. It would require delicacy, tact, and above all, patience.
She only hoped Caroline was not as headstrong as she had proved in the past.
Chapter Thirty-Three
However, it wasHenry she met first, coming upon him in the library. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight pierced the tall windows, catching dust motes that danced above the leather-bound volumes and casting long shadows across the Persian carpet. He rose from his chair at the desk, his look furtive and guilty before it relaxed into a smile as Amelia pressed upon him to sit.
“Well, Miss Fairchild, you are the very person I hoped to see,” he said, running a hand through his already tousled ginger hair. “Have you spoken to Sir Frederick about the letter I showed you?”
“I have,” Amelia said slowly, coming into the room and closing the door gently behind her. It was thick, studded oak and they’d not be overheard. The library held that peculiar hush that seemed to absorb all sound.
“And what does he say?”
Amelia cast her mind over their discussions which, while certainly concerned by the threat Mr. Greene posed, had primarily revolved around their gilded future. Her heart quickened at the memory of certain moments that had nothing to do with the current crisis.
“Miss Fairchild, are you all right?” Henry’s concerned voice broke through her reverie. Amelia realized she was smiling, her thoughts far away and centered on herself. She drew herself upand adopted a more sober expression, smoothing her skirts with slightly trembling fingers.
“Sir Frederick is deeply concerned, as you would imagine. But what proof does Mr. Greene have? We know nothing of his evidence. Just that proving his claim would take time and no doubt be costly as it was dragged through the courts.”
“But the marriage is recorded.” Henry’s fingers drummed nervously on the polished desktop.
“Perhaps…though it was on a separate sheet within the register. It was very odd. However, there is no record of any children born to Pernilla. And her crypt is concrete evidence. I doubt Lady Pendleton would either agree to have it exhumed—or could be made to do so.” Amelia thought a moment, pacing before the desk. “Sir Frederick said that if her father was as wily as we’re led to believe, he may well have placed the body of some other unfortunate in her grave, just so there was no evidence pointing to anything other than that his own daughter had died on the night he claimed she had.”
Henry’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right. And that’s what I am so worried about. I just think Albert is a capital fellow and I cannot bear to see him usurped by Mr. Greene.”
Amelia moved to the side of the desk, her shadow falling across the scattered papers. “Of course, he has removed his letter, has he not?”
“Of course,” said Henry. “He knows how to cover his tracks.”
