Chapter Four #3
David kept close by the two young women, fully aware that Amelia was bothered by something.
Instead of her usual forthright behavior, she was avoiding eye contact with him.
He knew precisely why she had arranged this outing—to try and bring him together with Margaret.
Though he hadn’t particularly wanted to go, there was no real reason to refuse.
He’d promised himself he would make an effort to find the right woman to wed.
And that meant leaving his house and forcing himself to go out.
To his surprise, Margaret had the same sense of humor as himself. He immediately recognized that she had no interest in him, but she was delighting in thwarting Amelia’s meddling. It had become a silent game, to see what move she would make next, after he and Margaret parried each attempt.
But now, Amelia appeared embarrassed, and he didn’t know what he’d said or done.
He’d winked at her, meaning to show that he didn’t intend any insult, but she’d seemed even more uncomfortable after that.
He wasn’t certain why. A man could make a fortune if he could write a pamphlet of instructions about how to interpret a woman’s feelings.
David led the two women around the gardens, past entertainers and jugglers.
Margaret was having a fine time, exclaiming her delight when she saw a hot air balloon in the distance.
But Amelia remained strangely silent. He moved to her side after Margaret went to look at some rose blossoms. “Are you unwell?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m merely trying to give you and my sister some time together.”
Her gaze remained upon the ground, and David commanded softly, “Look at me, Amelia.”
When she did, her green eyes held wariness. Her golden hair was pulled back beneath her bonnet, and her skin was pale—almost as if he made her nervous, for some reason. Never in his life had he seen Amelia Andrews afraid of anything.
“I know you aren’t feeling well because you aren’t speaking.” Before she could deny it, he continued. “I’ve known you for the past four years, and silent is not a word that describes you. You would talk to wallpaper if you thought it would answer back.”
She glared at him, which was a definite improvement. “Wallpaper might have more interesting things to say than some people.”
Now her spark had returned. He decided to bait her a little further. “I am quite good at conversing. You, of all people, should know that.”
“The weather, Lord Castledon? Honestly, you should—”
“Margaret and I were only having a bit of fun. Which was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
She quieted and shrugged. “I suppose.”
To change the subject, he pointed toward the hot air balloon. “Would you ever enjoy riding in one of those?”
“I would sooner throw myself into the Thames off the London Bridge.” Amelia shuddered. “I despise heights. If a woman were meant to fly, God would have placed wings upon her. The last time I checked, I have no wings.”
“I thought you were more adventurous than that.” He offered her his arm, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it, before they followed Margaret through the gardens.
“Sometimes.”
Her mood seemed to have lightened, and when they reached the end of the path, there seemed to be a commotion ahead. Although David would have taken the women away from the disruption, Margaret had already gone to investigate it.
“What is going on?” Amelia asked.
“I don’t know, but your sister should stay back, whatever it is. Wait here and—”
“I am not going to stand back out of the way. We will go together,” Amelia insisted. Though it wasn’t what he wanted, he supposed she was safer at his side than alone.
When they reached the small enclosure, David wanted to curse.
A group of men had surrounded Lord Lisford, along with another man, who appeared as if he’d been dragged out of Thieves’ Alley.
The viscount had discarded his coat and waistcoat, and his nose was bleeding.
The two men were boxing, while others were wagering against the fight.
“What are they doing?” Amelia was shocked by the sight of the men. “In such a public place? Has the viscount gone mad?”
“I imagine gambling was involved in some way.” David stepped forward and spoke to Margaret, trying to guide her away from the fighting.
“I’m not leaving,” she insisted. Her face had gone white, and her hands were tightly gripped together. It was clear that Lord Lisford was losing this fight, and the other man was taking him apart. The viscount’s head snapped backward as a sound blow caught him in the jaw.
“You shouldn’t be here, Miss Andrews,” David said.
But Amelia stepped beside her sister, recognition dawning in her eyes. “Oh, no. It’s Mr. Sinclair fighting him, isn’t it?”
David had no idea who this Mr. Sinclair was, but the man was a damned good fighter. He allowed the viscount to swing a blow and dodged it at the last second, leaving the man to go sprawling.
But Amelia appeared frozen by the sight of the men.
“Do you want me to get him out of this?” Though David personally believed the viscount deserved whatever beating he got, he knew the man was important to her.
“Someone needs to stop the fight,” she whispered.
He eyed Margaret, who looked ready to step into the ring herself, with her hands clenched at her sides.
Damn it all, he supposed it was now up to him. He removed his coat, handing it to Amelia. “Stay with your sister, and do not let her interfere.”
“I’ll sit on her if I have to,” Amelia answered. Then she touched his shoulder. “Be careful, won’t you?”
Amelia didn’t know what had started the fight between Mr. Sinclair and the viscount, but she strongly suspected it was about her sister. The Highlander had never liked Lord Lisford, and he’d made no secret of his feelings for Margaret.
Her stomach sank, for she didn’t like fighting of any kind, much less with the man she wanted to marry.
The earl had nearly reached the pair of them, and it was then that Amelia realized Lord Lisford’s nose was broken.
Dear God, how badly was he hurt? He clutched his side and staggered to his feet.
Although she was supposed to stay with Margaret, Amelia ignored caution and started to run toward the viscount.
Before she reached them, the earl caught her hand and pulled her back.
“Don’t. This is no place for you.”
“He’s hurt,” she started to protest. Lord Lisford could hardly stand, and he needed a doctor.
“It was his choice to engage in the match. If you go to him now, you’ll make him appear weak.”
She stilled, not wanting to accept that he was right. And yet she understood that the viscount would not want her to see him like this. Silently, she stepped behind the earl.
Lord Lisford dropped to his knees, blood streaming down to his mouth. “Sinclair should be brought up on charges of assault,” he demanded. “He attacked me.”
“The fight was your idea,” another gentleman said aloud. “You were the one who challenged him. He won the wager, and all of us can bear witness to it.” The man who spoke seemed well pleased with the outcome, as did several others. Likely he’d won money from the fight.
Amelia’s mood grew even more despondent, for it meant that Lord Lisford hadn’t listened to her pleas. She’d hoped that she could reform him, helping him to become a better man. Now she was questioning it.
Was this the man you wanted? her conscience taunted.
Of course it was. And yet she didn’t like seeing him so defeated. A gentleman should never fight in public—it was a scandal and against the law. She didn’t like this side to him, and it was sobering to know that Lord Lisford had ignored common sense for the promise of money.
What stunned her more was the look on Margaret’s face. Her prim and proper sister appeared delighted to see the viscount bloodied and broken on the ground. When Margaret met Cain Sinclair’s gaze, the Highlander’s mouth curved in a smile as if to say, I did this for you.
It didn’t appear that Mr. Sinclair had expended any effort at all in the boxing match. His arms were crossed, and he stared down at Lord Lisford as if he were as insignificant as dust. In contrast, the viscount’s face showed signs of perspiration and fatigue.
“He needs help,” Amelia murmured to the earl.
“He’ll be all right.” Lord Castledon showed no sympathy at all. “We should leave.”
“Will you…help him?” she murmured. The earl turned back to her, and in his blue eyes, she saw the reluctance. “Please.”
He didn’t want to; she could see that. But in the end, he gave a nod. “Stay here with your sister.”
Lord Castledon walked through the crowd until he reached Lisford’s side. He started to guide the man out, but before they went any farther, the viscount lunged for the Highlander.
The earl seized Lisford by the shoulders before he could throw a punch. Amelia was shocked, for Lord Castledon had hardly moved at all. He merely kept a strong grip upon the viscount, immovable as a granite wall.
Now where had that come from? She’d never suspected that the earl had that sort of strength. His face held determination, and when Lord Lisford tried to wrench himself free, Castledon dragged him back. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“He’s a bastardly gullion, and I’m going to pull his arse through his rib cage!”
Amelia wanted to clap her hands over her ears. The viscount was half-wild with anger, and she strongly suspected he was foxed. She’d never seen the man like this, and instead of appearing deliciously dangerous…he resembled a fool.
Margaret’s and the earl’s warnings came crashing down on her, and she sobered. This wasn’t the sort of husband she wanted. Not if he was going to behave like this.
Slowly, she walked toward Lord Castledon, past the onlookers. The moment the viscount saw her, he reddened with embarrassment.
“Miss Amelia. I—I’m sorry you saw this.”
“So am I,” she answered quietly. “But you chose a very public place. I can’t imagine why.”
“It was part of a wager. I was promised a large sum, just for agreeing to the boxing match.”
“But why here? Why not host it within a private club?”
The viscount shrugged. “It was arranged to allow a wider audience. More people could come if it was held here.”
And more people would witness his humiliation, Amelia realized. Had he really believed he could defeat a man like Cain Sinclair? Or had Cain arranged the match, wanting vengeance for what had happened to Margaret? It had been years ago, and it made no sense why he would do this now.
Amelia offered the viscount her handkerchief, leading him away. “Did you already collect the money for the match?”
He shook his head. “I wagered it again, because I had planned on beating Sinclair.”
The dismay in her stomach sank lower. “I thought you had agreed to stop making wagers until you were out of debt.”
The Earl of Castledon remained a short distance away, but his gaze was fixed upon the viscount and herself. It was as if he was watching over her, ensuring that Lord Lisford did nothing to harm her.
She swallowed hard, recognizing that there was much more to the earl than she’d ever imagined. Lord Castledon possessed great strength to hold back the viscount in the midst of a fight. He was a man of honor, while Lord Lisford was a man who could not stop gambling.
“I apologize for my conduct, Miss Andrews. I hope it does not mean you have given up on me,” the viscount said quietly. “It seems I need more help than I’d thought.”
More financial help, Amelia was sure he meant. She sighed. “I wanted to believe that you would try again. That there was more to you than a man who enjoys taking risks.”
“There is,” he insisted, as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “And we are more alike than you know.” He stepped nearer to her, and she couldn’t help but notice that he was shorter than the earl. “Both of us want to seize life and enjoy every moment of it. We seek pleasure, you and I.”
His voice had grown deeper, as if he were trying to seduce her. And Amelia couldn’t help but wonder how many women had succumbed to this man’s charms. He seemed to know precisely what to say.
“I cannot wed a man who squanders his money,” she said. “If you continue down this path of pleasure seeking, as you call it, it will lead to ruin. If you’re not there already.”
From the slight discomfort on his face, she guessed that he was.
“I need to return to my sister,” Amelia said.
In the near distance, she saw Margaret standing by Mr. Sinclair.
Though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she didn’t miss the tension between them.
The Highlander was staring at her sister as if he wanted to steal her away.
As for Margaret…there was both frustration and interest on her face.
“I hope I will see you at a soirée later this week, perhaps?”
She studied him, and in Lord Lisford’s hazel eyes, she saw an air of desperation. If she told him no, he might pursue her even more. It was a blow to her pride, knowing that she’d believed in him. Her girlish dreams of wedding the handsome viscount were nothing but air.
“Perhaps,” she said. But she had already decided not to see him again.