Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
A melia loved visiting her friend Helena Fitzgerald. Like her, Helena was a widow and like her, she loved cake, good food and laughing uproariously. Today Helena had instructed her butler that she was not at home to any other callers and had placed an array of cakes and sweet treats on a table in front of them.
‘Is this really all for us?’ asked Amelia as she took a seat next to her friend.
‘I need help deciding what to serve at my next dinner party.’
It was a very flimsy excuse but as she got to spend the afternoon eating her favourite type of food, Amelia was not going to point this out. Besides, Helena would already know. This was not their first afternoon spent this way; their love of sweet food had been one of the starting foundations of their friendship.
‘How was the Beauvarlet soiree?’ asked Helena as they selected their first slice.
Amelia shrugged. ‘It was fine.’
‘Fine? I thought you loved a night of music. Are you finally losing your love of badly played Mozart?’
‘You’re a heathen.’ Amelia took a bite out of her cake and moaned. ‘This is heaven in a slice. You have to serve this.’
‘I’ll make a note of it.’
Amelia picked up an apple tart. Fruit in a pudding was her Achilles heel. There was much she could be persuaded to do in exchange for a good quality fruit dessert. ‘Your cook is a goddess,’ she said after several mouthfuls. ‘What can I pay you to have her as my own?’
‘I will never part from her. She is a wonder, so you can stop trying. However, you can tell me why the soiree was not a good one. I would have thought an event put on by the Beauvarlets would be of a high quality.’
‘The music was beautiful.’ Helena pulled a face. ‘I can’t understand your aversion to it.’
‘It’s reasonable in a theatre but in a private house, it’s a noise in a badly constructed room.’ Helena shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is getting to the source of your discontent. I thought as soon as you arrived you were not yourself. You haven’t even attempted to hide some scones in your reticule yet and that is not like you at all.’
‘James Ashworth was there.’ She sighed and took another bite of the tart.
‘The handsome war hero everyone is talking about? The one with the eyes?’
Amelia bristled. ‘Everyone has eyes, Helena.’
Helena set her plate down on the table next to her and straightened her spine. ‘In all the time I have known you, I have never seen you act waspishly about a man. I need to know everything.’
Amelia may love her friend but she was not about to tell her everything . The vast majority of her interactions with Ash since the time that they both had turned eighteen would have to stay a secret. ‘Mr Ashworth is an old family friend, whom I have not spoken to in many years. At the soiree, I ran into him. Unfortunately, I mean that literally.’
Helena’s eyes widened. ‘As in, your body connected with his?’
‘Briefly, yes.’ She would not tell anyone about how Ash had kept his arm around her and how much she had wanted it to stay there. She was sure that she did not like a man’s touch and yet, and yet… Ash’s arm had been pleasant. No, pleasant was too mild a word. It had been like coming home after a hard day, of stepping into your more comfortable clothes and cosying up to the fire. Even that didn’t describe it quite correctly because being content and warm didn’t truly convey that sense of wanting to slide her own arms around his waist and to…
‘He looks very…solid.’ Helena raised her eyebrows. ‘Was he?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean by that,’ Amelia hedged. The true answer was yes, he was as well built as he looked. He had obviously gained muscle in the long period of their separation. She’d not thought much of it at the time but she’d had trouble sleeping for the past few nights. For some unfathomable reason, when she finally did drift off to sleep, she was plagued with half-formed dreams in which Ash’s body pressed into hers, his hands skimming across her skin. She’d wake breathless and longing for the type of touch she’d long since thought she abhorred, but now wasn’t quite so sure. If Ash and she weren’t so at odds and the idea of spending time with him incensed her, Amelia might be tempted to test out the moniker merry widow . Marriage was an awful trap for a woman, but being in Ash’s arms had reminded her of what it was like to have him run his hands over sensitive skin; the thought of not experiencing that again was making her…fidgety. Amelia took the last bite of her tart, the sweetness coating her tongue as she tried not to think about her and her old friend in a bed together.
‘I mean that he would be a far better lover for you than Stanmere.’
Amelia spat her mouthful out, her eyes watering as she coughed. ‘Lover,’ she managed to croak. ‘I’m not taking a lover.’ She might dream about it but she was not actually going to do it.
Helena patted her ineffectively on the back as she struggled to catch her breath. ‘Well, you should.’
‘You’re not helping.’ Helena stopped with the patting and poured Amelia some more tea, holding it out to Amelia as she managed to get her breathing back under control. She took the cup and saucer, gratefully allowing the warm liquid to soothe her throat. ‘Warn me next time you are going to say something outrageous.’
‘Was it really that wild?’
‘Yes!’
‘We are both widows and can speak frankly with one another. We’ve done our dues as married women and now we are free to find lovers without having to tie ourselves to one man.’
‘I think you are underestimating just how free we are. Society will still judge us for our conduct. I am merely conducting a light flirtation with Stanmere. I have not taken him to my bed. You know how I feel about that.’ Although, that did not explain the strange yearning of her dreams.
‘I know that you did not experience a great time with your husband but that does not mean you have to forsake all men forever. It can be enjoyable, you know.’
‘I did not have a bad experience with Lord Mortram. I just didn’t enjoy it.’
But, added a small traitorous voice at the back of her mind, you did enjoy kissing Ash when you were both younger. You particularly enjoyed it when he traced the column of your neck with his lips, and the wide expanse of his shoulders when you clung to them as if you and he were the only two people left alive.
She fanned herself. ‘Is it getting warm in here?’ She twisted to look at the fire grate but there were no flames.
‘I think someone is getting flustered talking about the delicious-looking war hero who has a delectably firm jaw and eyes that look like they could see inside your very soul.’
‘That sounds uncomfortable.’ Amelia picked up another slice of cake, not because she particularly wanted it anymore but because she needed something to do with her mouth that didn’t involve talking.
‘Why are you being so defensive about this? It is not like you at all.’ Helena regarded her for a while. Amelia continued to stuff cake into her mouth, no longer tasting it, which was a shame because it looked exquisite. Helena gasped. ‘I’ve got it. You don’t want to pursue anything with Mr Ashworth because he is someone whom you might actually want to bed.’
‘Helena! I think we’ve discussed this enough. A… Mr Ashworth is not someone I want to spend time with like that.’
Liar , whispered her mind.
‘He’s just someone I used to know, who I embarrassed myself in front of by colliding into him. I was not joking when I said I never want to experience what goes on between a man and a woman again. Can you honestly say that you enjoyed it?’
Helena wrinkled her nose. ‘Not exactly. But,’ she brightened, ‘that is why I intend to find someone with whom I will.’
‘Do you have anyone in mind?’ This was good. If Amelia could turn the conversation around to her friend, then she didn’t have to answer any awkward questions and hopefully, it would distract her mind from the endless cycle of things it had decided to think about since she had walked into Ash’s warm body.
Her ploy worked to a certain extent. Helena did start on a list of the ton’s less reputable gentlemen who might be interested in an affair with her, dismissing each one for reasons that only made sense if one realised that Helena was like Amelia. She may talk a good story but she didn’t want to take a man to her bed, either. They were good enough friends that Amelia would never point this out to her. Helena wanted the fantasy of imagining her life as a free widow, just as Amelia wanted to enjoy her season as much as she could without drama. Neither of them was quite where they wanted to be. In the case of Helena, that was probably fine. She probably liked the idea of talking about having a lover rather than getting one. It was a bit like shopping for the perfect outfit; Helena might love to discuss the various designs and fabrics but that didn’t mean she would walk out of a haberdashery having bought a dress.
Amelia wasn’t faring quite as well. She wanted to have fun and relax but she couldn’t, especially now. It wasn’t just that bumping into Ash had awakened something inside her that she didn’t want to name or think too much about, but it was also what he had told her. The idea that Amelia’s father hadn’t just caused financial problems for her family but for Ash’s as well was awful to her.
No wonder their mothers had not been so close after the deaths of their husbands. Ash’s mother no doubt blamed the Smythes for her family’s strained situation, and Amelia couldn’t blame her. Oh, she was sure that Ash’s father was partially at fault. He shouldn’t have blindly followed her father’s advice without doing his own research, and he certainly shouldn’t have done it a second time. But that argument was a weak one that Amelia didn’t really believe herself. Amelia’s mother had hidden the deterioration of her husband’s mind. There was no reason for Ash’s father to suspect that his good friend’s advice was any worse than it had been previously.
‘Amelia.’ She jumped at the sound of her name. Helena reached over and lightly touched the back of her hand. ‘Are you sure that you are well?’ she asked softly. ‘I do not think you are listening to me, not that I blame you because I am spouting words of utter nonsense, but it is unlike you not to pay attention.’
Oh, how she wished she could confide in Helena. It would be lovely to tell her everything, but on this, she would be sharing someone else’s secrets, too, and that was not something Amelia would ever do. Some advice would be useful, though, and might stop her going around and around with the same problem. Helena was the only person to whom she could really talk. ‘I am well, thank you. It’s only…’ She tilted her head, searching for the right words. ‘If you had an opportunity to right a wrong, something that was not of your doing, would you do it?’
‘Yes, absolutely.’ Helena’s response was immediate and emphatic.
‘Even though it may come as a cost to your person?’
Helena leaned back into the chair, her gaze turned unseeingly towards the window. ‘I am not sure because I do not know the details and I am not going to press you for them, but… I think I would ask myself what it would cost to my person not to right the wrong. If I left things as they were knowing that I could help, that would probably hurt my soul more than doing nothing, even if there was a risk of something regrettable happening to me in the process.’
Amelia pushed a crumb around her plate. ‘Unfortunately, I thought you might say that. Even worse, you are echoing how I feel about the situation.’
Helena turned her gaze to Amelia. ‘If there’s anything I can help you with, anything at all, please let me. You have been a wonderful friend to me these last few years and I will support you in anything.’
Amelia’s heart squeezed with love for her talkative, funny friend. ‘I know you would, but this is not my secret to share. You have helped more than you can know. Although…there is one other way you could aid me.’
‘I’m not giving you my cook.’
Amelia scowled. ‘Unfortunately, I thought you might say that, too.’
The two women laughed and for the rest of the afternoon, Amelia managed to pay attention to the conversation, her mind only slipping once or twice to Ash and what she knew she was going to have to do to make matters between their families right.