Page 72 of War of the Wedding Wagers
And be alone.
Because she’d never felt more alone.
How much more painful it was to have the world turn dark when so recently she’d thought joy and mutual regard were her future.
“Miss Fairchild!”
Oh, she did not want to have to make polite conversation with Lady Townsend right now.
Steeling herself, she turned, forcing her trembling mouth into submission while she crumpled the paper in her fist.
“Miss Fairchild… is everything all right?”
Lady Townsend was not yet in her evening wear as Amelia was. And, glancing down at her blue silk gown, which was obviously what she’d be wearing to the ball, she realized she’d be a curiosity. Not that she’d given that much thought as she’d rushed out of the castle.
Amelia opened her mouth to respond, then, realizing she couldn’t trust her voice, she just nodded.
“Very good. It’s a lovely evening for a walk, isn’t it?” the older lady remarked. “Do you mind if I accompany you? Just a shortturn about the rose bushes and then I must get ready for this evening. I see the great outdoors beckoned while you were part way through dressing. That’s a very lovely gown. The shade of blue reflects your eyes. I saw Sir Frederick appeared very taken with it when you wore it last.”
“I’ve worn it three times. He must wonder if I possess anything else in my wardrobe,” Amelia said, knowing she must sound as forlorn as she felt but unable to think of anything else to say.
“Oh, I don’t think Sir Frederick worries about such matters. He’s a man who admires a lady’s intellect more than her dress.”
“I hope he does.”
A surprised pause greeted this pronouncement before Lady Townsend took Amelia’s arm as she steered her around an elm tree and headed towards the lake. “Now, why should you question that? I’ve been quite struck by how interested that gentleman appears in everything you say. Why, these past two days, he hangs on your every word, Miss Fairchild.” She cleared her throat. “If I may be allowed to speak my mind from an observer’s point of view, I would say that you are the lady he prefers above all others here. And there are some charming young ladies—and not so young—who clearly favor the gentleman.”
“You mean, like Mrs. Perry?”
“Exactly! But while he joins in the kind of mindless banter she clearly enjoys, it’s you in whom he’s interested.”
Amelia shook her head. “I am convenient. And here only until tomorrow.” Despite herself, Amelia unfisted her right hand and proffered the letter she’d recently received.
Lady Townsend frowned. “What is this?”
“I received it a few minutes ago. While I was preparing for this evening, in fact. It’s the reason I couldn’t continue in front of the looking glass.” She closed her eyes briefly, the painwashing over her again while Lady Townsend quickly scanned the missive.
“You know he didn’t write this, don’t you?”
Amelia raised her head to look at the older woman, then shrugged. “Even if it’s not what he thinks, it’s what a great many other people do.”
“But you surely don’t think Sir Frederick actually penned that letter.”
Amelia sighed, bit her lip, then looked at the ground. “To be perfectly honest, I think Mrs. Perry wrote that letter. Sir Frederick would never be so cruel. Not after everything he’s said.”
“Then why are you so downcast?”
“Because this letter reveals the truth of what I am. I’m past my first flush of youth, I’m dowdy, I’m too interested in book learning.”
“It’s your mind that must first excite a man. Why, that is the very first consideration, Miss Fairchild. A pretty face is almost as essential, and indeed, you have that. So, you have both. All this letter suggests is that you have a deficiency in modish attire. And how easily that can be rectified. My dear, I think it is nonsense that you’re taking to heart a missive forged by a rival. Why, this is exactly what Mrs. Perry is hoping for: that you will meekly concede defeat so she can launch herself into the playing field. Or, whoever did write that letter—if itwasn’tMrs. Perry—knows that you are a young lady of character and discernment, but perhaps a little less robust in personal confidence. Please, Miss Fairchild, do not allow the evil perpetrator of this poisonous missive to win the day.”
“I know I should not.” Amelia exhaled in frustration. “But now that I know the true caliber of a man I once considered a libertine, I wonder if it won’t be long before he realizes thatthe supposedly learned woman he admired falls far short of his expectations.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Eugenia marched throughthe corridors of Pendleton Castle. Portraits of stern-faced Pendleton ancestors seemed to watch her progress with disapproving eyes.
It was rare that she marched anywhere.
