Page 61 of War of the Wedding Wagers
Four o’clock in the rotunda.
Ought he go there just so he could explain to her that his interest lay elsewhere?
Or should he ignore her letter and run the risk of offending her? Sir Frederick knew that scorned women had a habit of finding an especially cutting vengeance for their targets.
But then, if he didn’t try to make his case clear, when they were safely in private so that there was no risk of her being embarrassed, matters might progress from simply awkward to much worse.
Snatching up his hat, he strode to the door, not hesitating when, in truth, he had deep reservations about this assignation.
Best to nip in the bud any hopes she might have, he kept telling himself as he crossed the lawn, head down, shoulders hunched.
He did not want to go through with this. He suspected Mrs. Perry might have a temper to match her vivacity. She’d take his gentle let-down personally and then who knew what might ensure?
*
Amelia and Henryhad parted ways, stepping out of the library after she’d agreed to discuss the matter with someone trusted so as to help make a considered decision on the matter.
Sir Frederick? Henry had asked. Did she trust him?
And of course Amelia had nodded. Sir Frederick had been with her when they’d discovered the crypt, when they’d seen the register with its incriminating entry.
A crack of thunder in the far distance made her turn her head to look out of the window and she thought she glimpsed the figure of a gentleman heading towards the lake, but when she squinted, she could see no one.
Still damp from her earlier drenching outdoors, she was about to make for her room to change quickly when she saw Ladies Pendleton and Townsend approaching from the turn in the corridor.
“My dear Miss Fairchild! Have you been out in the rain?” Lady Townsend asked, her brow creased in concern.
Amelia put her hand to her bonnet and sent the ladies a rueful look. “I thought to dry my hair from the previous downpour when the sun showed its face. But I miscalculated, didn’t I? Fortunately, my hair is dryer than the rest of me.”
“Well, you just hurry along to your room so you’ll have plenty of time to ready yourself for this evening,” said Lady Townsend, adding slyly, “Aren’t you the sensible one, coming straight back to the house instead of crossing the lawn to seek shelter in the rotunda which I’ve just seen some unwary soul do. You’d have been stuck, for I don’t know how long since I do believe the rain has set in for the afternoon.”
“Why, Lady Townsend, who could have been so foolish?” her friend asked, frowning out of the window. “Should you send a servant?”
“Oh, Sir Frederick perhaps wasn’t so foolish after all and just wanted some privacy,” said Lady Pendleton. “Half the ladies under this roof are chasing after him. The poor man can’t turn around without Miss Playford asking his opinion on some inanity, or Mrs. Perry demanding admiration.”
Lady Townsend looked a little startled before she said in a rush, “At least you, my dear Miss Fairchild, are someone with whom he can enjoy an intelligent conversation and whom he doesn’t wish to run away from. Yes, that was in fact, the gist of his conversation with me only this morning.”
“But he did also admire Mrs. Perry for her wit, so don’t allow Miss Fairchild false hopes,” Lady Pendleton cut in as she took her friend’s arm and began to steer her away.
“I do think you should wear your blue gown, Miss Fairchild,” said Lady Townsend over her shoulder, her voice cracking with concern. “Sir Frederick did mention how fine you looked in blue.”
Her final words were lost as they rounded the corner, and Amelia felt herself rooted to the spot.
Sir Frederick was in the rotunda seeking respite from his female admirers, one of whom was Amelia?
No, that wasn’t the tenor of their relationship and Amelia had no time to worry about niceties like whether it would be too forward to go on search of him.
Not when there was such a matter of urgency she needed to discuss with him.
Making sure that her hostess and Lady Townsend were far away, and that there was no one else to observe her, Amelia tied the ribbons of her bonnet, turned back the way she had come, and prepared to brave the rain once more.
The rain was still falling steadily as Amelia approached the rotunda. Its elegant columns looked almost sinister in the stormy light. Of course, she was here only because of Mr. Greene’s letter.
It had nothing to do with the thought of Sir Frederick alone with Mrs. Perry in the rotunda’s intimate inner chamber.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she nearly collided with Sir Frederick himself as she entered.
“Miss Fairchild!” He steadied her with gentle hands. “What brings you out in such weather?”
