Chapter 6 #4
“I worry that she is too clever for her own good. One day, if she does not present me with a love match that I approve of, I will have to find her a husband. Her intelligence will make it difficult to find a suitable prospect. Most men will run away from such a woman with their tails between their legs.”
Amanda laughed. “Men do not like clever women,” she agreed.
“Some men do,” he murmured. He smiled at her, his mind veering to the fact that she was very clever, too.
He quickly redirected his thoughts. “I know this may seem premature, but I have given a great deal of thought to Ariella’s future.
She will be a great heiress, and that will help.
But I will have to discourage the fortune hunters. ”
“She will be an heiress,” Amanda echoed, her soft smile vanishing
He realized his faux pas. Carre had left his daughter with nothing, not a single cent, and he damned the man for it.
His insensitivity was astounding, and silently, belatedly, he kicked himself.
“I am sorry, Amanda. It is your turn to ask me questions, not my turn to bother you with my worries for Ariella’s future. ”
“She is so lucky,” Amanda whispered, distressed, “that you are her father and that she is so rich. Don’t worry. You will find a husband for her, I have no doubt.”
And what about Amanda? Who was going to find a husband for her?
He had never stumbled upon the subject of her marriage before, and he wished he hadn’t done so now.
It made him terribly uncomfortable, but Pandora had been released from her box.
Carre should have arranged her marriage, but thank God he had not, for the man he would have chosen would have been a pirate or some other socially unacceptable thug.
It would be Dulcea Carre’s responsibility to marry her off.
He somehow despised the notion, but he worried about it, now, too.
After all, if Amanda was to marry well, she was going to have to undergo quite a bit of transformation and he wasn’t sure she would even wish to try.
Gently, he asked, “And you, Amanda? Do you dream of marriage and a home of your own?” His smile was encouraging.
Her eyes widened. “Who would marry me?”
He could not bear her words. He cupped her cheek, tilting up her face.
“You will have suitors, I am sure of it. And you will break a dozen hearts after you have spent some time with your mother.” He meant it, but he was afraid for her, too.
She would eventually be transformed into a proper lady while under her mother’s care.
There was little doubt about that. However, he simply could not imagine Amanda making insipid conversation about the weather or last night’s supper party.
Worse, he wasn’t sure she should be transformed at all.
He tried to imagine her fashionably attired with proper airs, and suddenly detested the idea of her losing her originality. He wasn’t sure she could do both.
“I am not like Ariella,” she said, jerking away and staring at him as if stricken. “I am not a princess with a fortune. Please, do not be so mean.”
“I wasn’t jesting,” he exclaimed. “But your mother will surely provide you with a fine new wardrobe, a dancing master and whatever else you need for your new life. In a very short time after your reunion with her, I am certain there will be suitors lined up outside of your mother’s home.”
“I don’t think so,” she cried, aghast.
He felt terrible for her. “What do you wish, Amanda?”
“To be free,” she cried. “To be a part of the wind and the sea—that’s all I’ve ever wanted!”
How well he understood. He stared, almost reaching for her.
But she backed fearfully away. “That’s what Mama will want, isn’t it? To make me a lady, to find me a husband, to marry me off?”
“I would think so,” he said, and added, “What other choice is there?”
She just shook her head, backing farther away.
He never let her out of his sights as her back found the rail. “Come off the railing, Amanda.” He kept his tone coaxing, but it was an order and he was master of the ship.
“I have made a mistake,” she cried, but she stepped away from the railing. “I want you to leave me anywhere but London—maybe on Malta,” she said.
“Our demons are always greatest at night,” he said softly. “Come, Amanda, you are strong and brave and you can manage a reunion with your mother.”
She nodded, wiping at a tear. “I’m sorry for being a nitwit.”
“You could never be a nitwit, and I would be stunned if you did not have some trepidation,” he said lightly. He held out his hand. She hesitated and approached, taking it. He walked her to the steps.
“While we are on the subject of your mother, I have assumed you have an address for her?”
She nodded, her gaze on his, oddly trusting. “Papa said she lives at a place called Belford House.”
He was shocked.
“De Warenne? Do you know it?”
He couldn’t speak. He knew Belford House, as he had been invited there several times. He knew Lady Belford—and her first name was Dulcea.
She had platinum hair almost the exact same shade as Amanda’s and, if he recalled correctly, astounding green eyes. Now, the resemblance was unmistakable.
But she had been married to Lord Belford for many years.
Dulcea Belford was breathtakingly beautiful, elegant and polished, and socially obsessed.
She was also promiscuous—behind Belford’s back, she had numerous affairs.
She had pursued him, in fact, but he had not cared for her conceit or her manner.
But he was the only male he knew who was not smitten with the socialite.
He had no doubt that Amanda’s tale about her parents was very wrong and that her mother was not Dulcea Carre, but Dulcea Bedford.
And if he was right, then Lady Belford was not going to be pleased to see her long-lost daughter, not at all.