Chapter Two
The day with Margaret had been more successful than Amelia had expected. Madame Benedict had chosen a stunning violet silk embroidered with gold for Margaret. Her sister had been so touched by the purchase, she’d hugged Amelia.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Margaret said.
Oh, but she did. She wanted her sister to feel good about herself again, to know that the years hadn’t diminished her beauty. And if Margaret finally found a husband and a happy life, it would be easier on both of them when Amelia eventually married.
“Shopping always makes me feel better,” she said.
“And when you wear this, you’ll catch every gentleman’s eye.
” Particularly the Earl of Castledon’s, if she could manage it.
Already, she’d sent her initial list to him, by way of a footman.
There was no need for a letter of explanation—the simple numbered list of unmarried ladies was answer enough.
Amelia had put Margaret as lady number three, among the other six contenders. Seven was a reasonable number of women.
She had deliberately selected the quiet women, the wallflowers who had few options.
The wealthy heiresses and the more vibrant women could have their pick of suitors.
If the earl hadn’t already chosen one of them, it was clear that he had no interest in women of that nature.
He was a stoic man, and she suspected that the chattering sort wouldn’t appeal.
She, herself, was a prime example of a woman who talked too much.
Amelia was well aware of it, and it didn’t bother her at all.
If she had something to say, she said it.
Which was why she felt comfortable making a match for the earl.
He had no interest in a woman like her, and she’d been friends with him long enough to recognize that there was no harm in trying to help him.
All of the women on the list were nice young ladies who would leap at the chance to marry an earl.
Satisfied with herself, she went to examine a violet corset embroidered with pink roses.
“Margaret, this would be lovely with your new gown, don’t you think?
” She spoke loudly, so that the other women nearby would hear her.
“I’ve never felt such silk. I imagine it would be wonderful against a woman’s bare skin. ”
It was one of the garments that the crofters had sewn for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, and Amelia fully intended to help Madame Benedict sell more of them.
“Perhaps.” Margaret reddened, holding out her arms while Madame Benedict took her measurements.
“They’re unmentionables fit for a princess,” she sighed. “If only Father could afford them.”
Her sister frowned, not at all understanding what Amelia was doing. “But he can.”
Oh for goodness’ sake. Didn’t her sister recognize a sales tactic?
Amelia widened her eyes, sending Margaret a silent message to play along with her ruse. “Not this one. It’s fifty pounds. An outrageous amount for something so luxurious.”
She lowered her voice just a fraction, knowing the ladies were still eavesdropping.
“I’ve heard that only the wealthiest women in the ton are wearing them.
Perhaps someday I’ll be fortunate enough to own one.
” Offering a melodramatic sigh, she set down the corset nearer to the young ladies, hoping they would take the bait.
Eyeing them with a friendly smile, she saw that the blond girl was intrigued.
“This one would suit you beautifully,” Amelia suggested, holding out a chemise in a vivid blue.
Conversation with strangers came naturally to her, and she never minded it.
Not only that, but since she was of the same social class as the young ladies, they were more willing to listen to her.
The young woman studied the silk with the creamy lace and sent a pleading look toward her mother.
“Or perhaps this one?” Amelia held out a virginal white corset trimmed with paste jewels. “It would be lovely for a trousseau.”
Now she had the matron’s attention. The older woman reached for a night rail that was so sheer, it was hardly more than a scrap of lace. Though she appeared shocked by the garment, Amelia saw the secret glance she sent toward Madame Benedict.
Sold, she thought. Perhaps the woman wanted to add a note of excitement into her own marriage.
Amelia felt her cheeks blush at the idea.
She was quite curious about what went on between a husband and a wife, but none of her sisters would tell her anything.
Victoria and Juliette simply exchanged knowing smiles.
Near the entrance to the shop, she saw a young lady entering. There was something familiar about the woman. I know her, Amelia thought, but she couldn’t remember the name.
Margaret saw the direction of her gaze. “We have to leave. Now.”
“I’ve seen that woman before,” Amelia whispered. “But where?”
“It’s the Earl of Strathland’s sister, Sarah Carlisle,” Margaret murmured in her ear. “You will not speak to her or have anything to do with her. Not after what her brother did to us.”
Amelia was fully aware of how Lord Strathland had threatened their family. Four years ago, his men had set their house on fire, trying to force them off their land in Scotland. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried to intimidate her sisters.
Although the man had slipped into madness and was now in an asylum, it wasn’t good enough for Amelia. After all that he’d done, he deserved the hangman’s noose.
Without really knowing why, she inched closer, just enough to overhear Madame Benedict asking the young woman to leave.
Amelia frowned. Why would Madame Benedict turn an earl’s sister away?
It made no sense at all. But then, she saw the young woman staring at them as if pleading for help.
There was desperation on the girl’s face, and she lifted her hand to catch Amelia’s attention.
It was clear now that Lady Sarah had come to find her. But why?
She didn’t know what prompted her to follow, but Amelia ignored Margaret’s protests and stepped outside. It had begun to rain, and the young woman was standing there, letting it fall over her without seeking shelter. She appeared utterly lost.
“Do you need help?” Amelia blurted out.
The young woman stiffened and turned to face her. “Yes, I do. And I’m sorry for coming to you in such a public place. But I couldn’t pay a call on you at your home. Your family would never consider helping me—not after what my brother did to you.”
Her honesty made Amelia feel sorry for her. She now remembered meeting Lady Sarah at a ball, years ago, but no one had paid any attention to the young woman. It seemed that she was still unmarried, and now that her brother was locked away, her options were running out.
“Surely your parents left you some funds?” Amelia questioned.
“They did, but my cousin has cut off a great deal of my pin money. It won’t pay for another Season.” She shuddered. “And I cannot live in his household.”
Amelia caught a hint of disgust from the young woman.
She didn’t ask her to elaborate, but inquired, “Were you hoping to sew for money?” Though it wasn’t appropriate for an earl’s daughter, perhaps there was a way the young woman could do some work for the modiste, so long as it was in private with no one to see.
“No, I’m terrible at sewing,” Lady Sarah admitted.
“I thought if I spoke with you here, you might understand my circumstances. I have to find a way out—someone to marry or someone who will take me far away from here. I…don’t have much time.
” Her gaze dropped downward, and it was clear that this woman was at the end of her options. “I’m pleading with you for help.”
Margaret arrived and stood beside Amelia, holding an umbrella over her head to shield her from the rain. “Amelia, it’s time for us to return.”
She hesitated. If her family knew she was considering helping Lady Sarah, they would be livid. But neither did she want to step aside and look away when another woman needed help. If she was willing to work, to overcome her brother’s sins, then it was only right to give her a chance.
“Come and have tea with me this afternoon,” she said. “We can talk, at least.”
Her sister looked appalled, but Amelia held her ground. “Wasn’t it you who believed a lady should be charitable to those in need?” Without waiting for an answer, she returned inside the shop.
David stared at the list of seven women. Amelia had written the names of several respectable girls—Margaret among them. It didn’t surprise him that she wanted to set him up with her sister. They weren’t that far apart in age.
Margaret was polite enough, but he strongly doubted if she would consider a man like him. In the past, she’d tended to avoid him, choosing men who were younger and more conversational. Which was understandable, given his lack of interest in socializing.
He crossed off two others from the list because they had dark hair like his wife.
Perhaps that was foolish, but he didn’t want another reminder of Katherine.
He wanted someone as opposite from her as a rain cloud to a rainbow.
Someone quiet and calm, who would teach an eleven-year-old girl how to become a respectable, well-behaved young woman.
Christine had begun asking questions he had no desire to answer.
Questions that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
He didn’t doubt that a woman like Amelia Andrews would answer every question his daughter posed, likely telling her far more than Christine needed to know.
The idea made him wince, as did the thought of his daughter growing up.
Thankfully, he wasn’t going to wed Amelia.
But it did make him think of her earlier proposition, when she’d asked him to put in a good word with the viscount.
He had no intention of trying to bring the pair of them together.