A Necessary Wife (Saints and Sinners #5)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Amelia Reynolds glanced up from the garden bed she was contemplating, sensing a presence directly behind her. She twisted around and almost fell onto her bottom at discovering Lord Milo Westfall or rather the newly elevated Lord Chatham, her brother Anthony’s best friend, standing there.

Slightly embarrassed at being taken by surprise, she adopted a haughty expression as she struggled to her feet. “Can I help you, my lord?”

Chatham, an earl she was long acquainted with, winced. “I hope so.”

Then he looked her over from head to toe—and smiled.

Amelia glanced down at her attire and blanched at the state of her gown.

She had been in the garden since first light, though even this state of grubbiness was unusual.

The faded blue muslin usually hid spoiling, but she had two highly visible dirty spots where her knees had rested on the ground as she added new plants to the garden bed.

It had rained last night but usually no one was awake this early to see her, and she was surprised that Chatham was. Her brother and his guests usually kept very late hours.

When she glanced across at Chatham, her cheeks grew warmer from embarrassment as she hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance that morning.

Chatham was resplendent, as always. Dark green velvet coat, buff breaches that hugged his thighs, and glossy high-top riding boots.

He only lacked a riding crop and a horse to complete the image of Corinthian splendor. He was every inch an earl today.

By unspoken agreement they usually avoided each other, because she remained unmarried and he was a widower with no need for a second wife.

They were of similar ages though, him slightly older.

He spoke only to her in her brother’s presence and that suited Amelia perfectly.

She much preferred to remain in the background of her brother’s busy life and go about her usual solitary routine.

Something must be wrong if Chatham sought her out.

“Are you in need of my brother?” She gestured toward a distant manor house. “He’s likely still asleep, I’m afraid.”

“He is indeed which is why I concluded this was the perfect time to speak with you,” he said, glancing around the garden.

Amelia studied the man with disappointment. A widower of some four years, she wisely took a step back in case he was feeling lonely. He was handsome but troubled, and she knew exactly why that was, not that she would dare attempt to offer sympathy—or her companionship.

Amelia was no mouse, frightened of men, but she was wise. She harbored an abundance of distrust for men in general. She made an effort not to show it while she discreetly dusted off her fingers a little more, hoping he would leave with no encouragement.

Still Chatham lingered, and she glanced around, looking for rescue from any direction.

He cleared his throat. “Are you done here?”

She faced him. “Done, my lord?”

He sighed. “With your brother’s estate. You’ve been tending the Upper Folly garden for all the years I’ve known you, and it has never looked more perfect.”

She blinked in surprise for the unexpected compliment. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Not for the last few days, of course, since you were abed with…a regular illness,” he said.

Amelia struggled not to blush. She’d kept to herself for the usual few days of her monthly cycle, as she always did, despite her brother’s pleas that he had an important guest to entertain and she couldn’t be absent from the dining room for so many nights in a row.

Well, Anthony should have consulted her calendar before he’d issued an invitation to anyone beyond family. But as usual, she’d managed the household and her own needs without giving the newly elevated earl much thought beyond ensuring his stay was a pleasant one.

Apparently, she’d been missed by more than her brother.

Amelia couldn’t be more surprised.

Chatham tipped his head toward the manor. “I’ve admired your diligence to your brother’s concerns for some time, and of course, noticed your influence extends far and wide on the estate. I expect both your thumbs are green.”

She was halfway to checking the state of her thumbs when she caught a hesitant smile playing upon his lips. He had made a jest…or was making sport of her, as others in her brother’s circle often did.

She narrowed her gaze on him, annoyed because she could not determine the intent behind his smile immediately.

Lord Chatham was not given to levity very often, at least not around her. But he often said things in a way that could have two meanings, and it amused her that everyone else seemed oblivious to the alternative meanings.

“I enjoy tending my brother’s estate,” she admitted in the end. “I spend half my time out here in the garden.”

“Yes. Even in inclement morning weather, too. You fearlessly trudge outdoors to bring order to the grounds. Well done.”

Cautiously, she decided he was complimenting her. A flush of pleasure filled her and brought more warmth to her face. She was usually immune to flattery from handsome men. She inclined her head, accepting the praise.

Chatham shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced around again. “I thought to take a stroll about your garden before your brother returns.”

“It is not my garden, my lord,” she said firmly.

Nothing was hers. Nothing could be, here.

But soon she would reach the advanced age of eight and twenty, and could finally claim her own garden to tend and a little cottage to live in not too far away.

She was counting down the days till her birthday, though no one else would be.

Her brother had not thought her serious about living alone the first time she had mentioned her intention to quit Upper Folly, but there was bound to be an outcry when she took over her inheritance and disappeared.

There was always something for the family to complain about where Amelia was concerned.

“That is a shame, isn’t it? That nothing is yours after so many years of diligent toil.” Chatham scowled. “Perhaps we might talk about the chances of changing that as we walk together.”

She frowned at the man who, like many others, had ignored her for years. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Take a walk with me, Miss Reynolds,” he said firmly, making it more of a demand. “I wish to speak with you of important matters.”

Her eyes widened in shock at the bold demand, and she glanced around for rescue again. They were already alone in the garden, yet still within full view of the house.

Walking off with an unmarried man would not be good for her reputation, and her guard rose against Chatham, as it did with all men who made similar propositions.

Yet, he had always been polite if disinterested in her in the past. Perhaps his desire for conversation related to something her brother had done. “Does this concern my brother?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he said, after a significant pause.

Amelia owed her brother a great deal for allowing her to stay here this long after her scandal, and so she eventually nodded, agreeing to the stroll, but she would only walk along the most used paths with him.

She inclined her head, and they strolled away from the garden bed she had just finished planting, Chatham with his hands behind his back, hers clenched at her waist.

He stopped under a tree, where the shade was deep and cooling, and they could be seen from any direction.

Chatham cleared his throat again. “I have been giving my situation some thought of late.”

Amelia barely managed not to groan that Chatham was a man who believed she’d be delighted to hear of his problems. “I assumed you wished to speak of Anthony.”

“I wish to speak of you,” he said, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his mouth again as his eyes met hers. “I feel it is necessary to marry again and hoped for your opinion,” he continued.

Amelia winced and looked away. “I am the last person who should offer anyone advice on making a marriage, especially a second one.”

She’d rather pluck out her eyes than debate the merits of one silly debutant’s value over another with him.

“I disagree.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I think you are uniquely qualified to offer an unbiased opinion of my chances of making a second match. I am convinced you are fully aware of what happened in my first marriage, so you already understand my hesitation to wed again.”

She shrugged. Chatham had been a topic of conversation after dinner for many years in her brother’s home. She probably knew far too much, and Chatham could be offended if she revealed the details to which she’d been made privy. “Some of it. I…”

“Your brother gossips like a fish swims, Miss Reynolds,” Chatham warned. “So does everyone else in society. Of course you know the whole of it.”

She exhaled. “Yes, everyone does love to gossip. So I must assume that you are well acquainted with the details of my own scandal, too.”

He inclined his head, confirming her suspicions. “Your brother recently expressed an unhappy opinion that you will never wed, despite receiving several offers. I can sympathize. I am familiar with the pressure a family can bring to bear in such a situation.”

“The pressure to marry has always been there.” Amelia laughed bitterly. “Unlike you, I never had any desire or opportunity to return to London again, to seek a more faithful beau.”

“What if there was an offer made to you here and now?”

She blinked. “I would refuse.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “My lord, you should not ask such questions.”

He kept his hands behind his back but leaned forward. “Why not?”

“Because you will not like my response.” She shook her head. “No one ever does.”

He squinted at her. “You will not marry because you will not, cannot, trust another man with your heart.”

She took a step back from him because that was the answer she usually gave, and no one had ever wanted to hear it or believe her in earnest.