Chapter Three
David stepped inside the foyer of the Andrews residence and gave his gloves and hat to the footman. The butler, Mr. Culpepper, was a portly man with a gray mustache and a beard. His expression was grave as he led David inside. “Miss Amelia Andrews and her mother are expecting you.”
He followed the butler toward a small parlor and was surprised to see Lord Lanfordshire standing in the hallway. The man appeared to be eavesdropping for some odd reason.
“My lord.” David greeted the baron, but Amelia’s father only shook his head and waved him onward. Why in the world the older man was lurking about instead of joining them was uncertain. The butler only lifted a finger to his lips and beckoned for David to join the ladies inside.
The parlor was a cozy room with creamy wallpaper and long green drapes to frame the large windows. He bowed to the ladies, greeting Lady Lanfordshire first. “I trust you had a good journey from Scotland?”
“It was wretched, as always.” She smiled, gesturing for him to sit. “Thank you for coming to tea with Amelia and me.”
He took a seat across from them and saw the gleam of strategy in the young woman’s face. Amelia was clearly plotting something, and he wasn’t certain what that was. “It was my pleasure.”
Lady Lanfordshire began with a banal conversation about the weather and travel conditions, but all of his concentration was on Amelia. She was wearing a deep blue gown, and her blond hair was pulled back into a chignon, though several strands were artfully arranged about her face.
There was no denying her beauty. Her green eyes held mischief, as if she knew a secret he didn’t.
Too young, his brain warned. Even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
David forced himself to reply to Lady Lanfordshire’s questions, but Amelia withdrew a scrap of paper from behind a cushion, letting him silently know that she’d received his list. Her eyes shone with amusement, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
Do you really think I’ll pay any heed to this list? her eyes seemed to say.
It’s for your own good, he responded silently.
When Lady Lanfordshire offered him a piece of cake, he declined politely, keeping to his tea. Amelia, however, closed her eyes when she took a bite, savoring the taste. She appeared lost in a moment of reverence, while she enjoyed the moist cake with currants.
He’d seen that look on a woman’s face before, and it reminded him of how many years it had been since he’d shared his wife’s bed. It was unnerving to find himself so intrigued by Amelia’s response.
“If I may, Mother,” Amelia began, “I wanted you to meet Lord Castledon because I believe he would make an excellent husband for Margaret.”
Lady Lanfordshire nearly spewed her tea across the saucer. Instead, she coughed, raising a handkerchief to her lips. “Goodness, Amelia, you needn’t be so forward. Lord Castledon certainly has no need of your matchmaking.”
Miss Andrews ignored her mother. “He is five-and-thirty, and—”
“Three-and-thirty,” he corrected. He didn’t need her adding years to his age.
“Yes, well, he’s not too old for her yet. He’s a nice gentleman, and I believe they would get on quite well.”
Lady Lanfordshire closed her eyes as if seeking patience from a higher power. “Amelia, dearest, this is not the way a young woman should behave in front of an earl.” She sent him an embarrassed smile. “I understand you have a daughter, am I right, Lord Castledon?”
It was a blatant tactic to change the conversation topic.
“I do.” Clearly Lady Lanfordshire had no idea that he and Amelia had already conversed about potential wives. Steering the conversation back, he added, “And it is Christine’s fondest wish that I remarry and give her a mother.”
The matron’s expression softened. “How old is your daughter?”
“Eleven years old,” he admitted. “I should have remarried long before now, since I do need an heir. And yet, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do so.” He saw the sympathetic dismay on Lady Lanfordshire’s face. “Miss Andrews offered to help me find some suitable candidates.”
The older woman sighed. “Amelia ought to mind her own affairs instead of meddling with others.”
“I’m very good at meddling,” Amelia interjected. “And I do get results.”
That she did. David raised an eyebrow at her, and she sent back a secretive smile. He reached for his teacup. “Shall I assume that this was the reason you invited me here?”
“Actually, it was because I wanted to introduce you to my mother so that she’ll side with me about your being a good match with Margaret.”
Before the baroness could reply, David pulled out the list Amelia had sent and handed it to her. “And what do you think of these young ladies, Lady Lanfordshire?”
The matron accepted the list, sending a warning look toward Amelia.
“All of them come from good families. But I’m not certain how well they would do as a stepmother to your daughter.
” She began going down each name, listing the attributes of each.
Amelia took a sip of her tea, presumably feigning obedience.
He hardly heard a word Lady Lanfordshire said. He was watching the way Amelia’s hands moved over the cup, and how her lips touched the porcelain rim. She sent him an impish smile when she caught him staring, and it was like a bullet to his brain.
Stop looking at her. She’s not for you.
He wanted an older woman, someone who could help him rear Christine and teach her to be a young lady. Not someone who would train his daughter how to be rebellious.
“In summary, I believe that either Miss Harrow or Miss Pearson would be an excellent choice for you,” Lady Lanfordshire finished.
“Not your own daughter?” he prompted, stealing another look at Amelia.
“Margaret has expressed a reluctance to marry,” she admitted. “After what that horrid Lord Lisford did to her, it’s no wonder.”
“He’s not a blackguard,” Amelia argued. “He simply made wrong choices.”
David finished his tea and replaced the cup, giving Lady Lanfordshire his full attention. “I must agree with you, Lady Lanfordshire. The man is indeed a rake, and I should hate to see any of your daughters associated with the likes of him.”
All of the humor disappeared from Amelia’s face, and she sent him a furious glare.
David met her gaze coolly. Was she honestly expecting him to take her side in this?
He knew Charles Newport well enough. The man was irresponsible and had a reputation for draining money from his family.
He’d sooner see Amelia wedded to a wolf than a man like the viscount.
“I quite agree,” her mother echoed.
But the tight look on Amelia’s face held more than anger. Her fists were clenched against the cushions, and she looked ready to tell him to go to the devil.
He sent her a smile, but in her eyes, he saw war brewing.
Amelia stood inside the ballroom, fuming inwardly.
She knew that she ought not to say anything to Lord Castledon.
A proper lady like Margaret would never dream of it.
But even three days later, she was still angry with him for insinuating to her mother that Lord Lisford was a bad marital choice.
True, the viscount had made countless mistakes.
But she had caught a glimpse of a good man on their drive the other morning.
Beneath his practiced words and suave manner was a man in great need of a woman’s love.
Amelia believed, in her heart, that she could help Charles Newport. He could be redeemed, even after all that he’d done.
Her sister Victoria, the Duchess of Worthingstone, was hosting tonight’s soirée, and Amelia had managed an invitation for Lady Sarah, though she hadn’t told Toria why. If somehow Lady Sarah met the gentleman of her dreams, it would solve everything. Assuming the woman didn’t resort to blackmail.
Logic told her to inform the Duke of Worthingstone. He could have Lady Sarah brought up on charges of blackmail, if needed. But, as the woman had said, there was no tangible proof.
Once again, Amelia dug deep with her instincts, trying to determine the woman’s character. Lady Sarah didn’t seem to be the sort of person who would resort to criminal behavior—more of a woman trying to escape a fate she didn’t want.
Please let this end, Amelia prayed. Having a conversation with her sisters about a possible scandal that would drag all of their names into ruin was the very last thing she needed. She wanted to handle it herself, and perhaps if Lady Sarah won her freedom, all would be well.
It was early, and the dancing had not yet begun. Many of the guests mingled in the ballroom, while others were enjoying the unseasonably warm weather out of doors. Thus far, she hadn’t seen Lady Sarah, but that didn’t mean the woman wasn’t already here.
Amelia crossed the stone terrace and spied Lord Castledon. He was standing on the bottom step of the terrace that led out to a walled garden. As always, he wore black. She doubted if the man had a single color in his wardrobe. As soon as he saw her, he gave a slight bow. “Miss Andrews.”
Amelia beckoned for him to walk with her, not wanting to cause a scene. When they were a short distance away from the other guests, she asked, “Why did you side with my mother against Lord Lisford?”
“Do we really have to have this conversation now?” he countered. “It’s a lovely evening, and your sister was gracious enough to invite me to her home. Perhaps you should consult the list I gave you and speak to one of those gentlemen.”
Amelia tried to gather her patience, but she was so frustrated, she couldn’t bear to be patronized. “I gave you a list of young ladies in good faith. Any one of them would be perfect to serve as a wife and mother to your daughter. I tried to help you, but you—”
“I helped you as well.” He cut her off, offering her his arm. “I simply added a few names by way of warning.”