Constant Hearts
Inspired by Jane Austen’s Persuasion
Donna Hatch
Copyright 2011 Donna Hatch
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London, 1815
Chapter 1
The last person Amelia planned to see at the soiree was Reed St. Ives, and she certainly didn’t expect to see him leaning over the hostess’s unconscious body.
Her heart stalled, then beat an unsteady rhythm. Reed drew every light in the drawing room as if the sun’s rays shone on him. Broader now, even more handsome than before, and with a more confident air, Reed’s power over her had not faded with the passing years.
“Stand back,” Reed said. “Someone open a window.”
Obedient to Reed’s command, the crowd stepped back and threw open windows. With a guilty start, Amelia remembered her friend Lady Evensley lying in a swoon and tried to turn her attention to its proper focus.
Reed checked Lady Evensley’s pulse with his long, slender fingers. He’d always had such lovely hands—masculine, yet graceful—the hands of the gifted pianist. Years ago, those fingers had traced Amelia’s cheek with utmost gentleness.
She shivered. Best not to dwell on that, or on what might have been.
In spite of Reed’s directive, Amelia stepped closer, eyeing Lady Evensley’s pallid face, and began fanning her.
Lord Evensley knelt next to his wife, his gaze flitting frantically between her face and Reed’s. “I’ve never seen her faint.”
“It’s probably just the heat,” came Reed’s assuring voice as his dark head bent over the lady. “Her pulse is strong and she’s breathing freely. Bring me a damp cloth.”
He began chaffing her wrists as a footman dashed out of the room.
Amelia turned to her aunt. “Your vinaigrette, Aunt.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Aunt Millie handed over her small silver box containing a vinegar-soaked sponge.
Amelia stepped forward and leaned down, accidentally brushing against Reed’s arm. Heat flared across her skin and her senses filled with his scent. His very presence sent a wave of longing over her.
As she held out the vinaigrette, she swallowed and forced her words through a dry throat. “Perhaps this will help revive her?”
“Thank you.” Without even glancing at Amelia, Reed took the delicately carved box out of her hand and flicked open the hinged lid, releasing the pungent smell of vinegar. He waved it under the nostrils of Lady Evensley.
Amelia swallowed her stung pride that he hadn’t noticed her—just as well since they were entirely unsuitable for a number of reasons. Or so she’d told herself all those years ago. And every day since.
Lady Evensley’s eyes fluttered. “Oh, my. I hope I haven’t ruined the party.”
“Not at all, my dear.” Lord Evensley helped her sit up.
Amelia added wickedly, “Merely added a bit of spice to the evening. Although, next time you’ll have to outdo this one. Perhaps invite a few pirates?”
Lady Evensley laughed softly. “I just might at that. Know any?”
“I’ll be sure to make introductions if I cross paths with one.” They shared a smile.
Reed returned the vinaigrette to Amelia. “Thank you...” He broke off as his gaze found hers, and the color faded from his face. His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke. “Amy.”
Bathed in the warmth of his golden-green gaze, Amelia found it difficult to breathe. His face had matured. Its chiseled lines were more rugged, his jaw more square. His hair was the same rich mahogany, shorter than he used to wear it, but just as thick. A white scar bisected his chin, a new flaw that somehow enhanced his masculinity.
His hazel eyes, both green and golden brown, searched hers with the desperation of a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. Those eyes had once been filled with wide-eyed dreaminess, but now held something almost...haunted.
She stretched a hand toward him and her voice fled, leaving only a whisper, “Reed.”
Visibly remembering himself, he cleared his throat and inclined his head. “Madam.”
His formality came as a sharp reminder of what had passed between them, and what they had lost. Or rather, what she had thrown away.
She folded her hands together. “Good evening.”
A shadow passed over his face, and he recoiled as if her presence repelled him. His gaze took in her silk evening gown and rubies in her hair.
“You’re looking...well.” His tone made it sound like an insult. In a clear cut, he turned back to his patient and helped her to stand.
Stunned, Amelia arose. She should step back but found herself unable to move. Whatever familiar affection she’d expected to find in his gaze was decidedly absent. She’d feared to discover traces of lingering hurt—after all, she’d broken his heart—but she’d never dreamed she’d find such coldness.
A low murmur began as the crowd lost interest now that their hostess had revived. With any luck, few of them knew of Amelia’s prior relationship to Reed, thus sparing her of further gossip.
Reed focused on the hostess. “How do you feel, my lady?”
“Ridiculous. I never swoon.” Lady Evensley stood, swayed momentarily and then straightened. She lifted her gaze to her guests. “I believe dinner is served.”
“Quite right.” Amelia made a grand gesture to the dining room to get the guests moving and spare Lady Evensley further embarrassment.
No one questioned her authority to direct the crowd and the soft murmur of voices rose in crescendo as the guests filed into the dining room.
A gentleman appeared at Amelia’s side. “Shall we?”
Amelia blinked at him, belatedly remembering he’d been introduced as her dinner escort. “Of course.” She gathered her poise, offered him her brightest smile, and took his offered arm. “The pleasure would be mine.”
Against her will, her gaze returned to Reed. He stood speaking softly to the host and hostess and flashed that self-deprecating grin she’d always found so charming.
She walked away from him, her heart tearing as deeply as it had when she’d walked away from him—had it been six years go? It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet, as painful as if it had only been days.
Clenching the arm of her escort lest she crumple, Amelia moved with the other guests into the dining room. All feeling left her body except for the tearing of her heart.
She’d been a fool to think herself over him. She’d been a fool to imagine he’d still care for her after all these years. But most of all, she’d been a fool to reject him when he’d wanted her.
Amelia bit her lip. It was just as well. Nothing had changed; they were no better suited now than they were when she’d rejected him to honor her uncle’s wishes.
She shuddered in a breath, but couldn’t make her lungs fill.
After finding her place, she sank into a seat between two distinguished gentlemen who were both attentive and courteous—a miracle really, considering the scandal surrounding her. No doubt Lady Evensley had made that considerate arrangement.
“Are you enjoying the season?” Amelia asked her dinner companion.
“I certainly am. Although I admit, the house party I attended last week was far more diverting than most of these dinner parties and balls in London.”
“The duke’s house party?”
“The same.”
; “Ah. Do you ride to hounds, then?” Amelia fixed her gaze upon his face lest she be tempted to look for Reed like some lovesick puppy.
“Jolly good time. The hounds chased the fox up a tree.”
She raised a brow. “Indeed? The duke’s hounds climb trees? How very clever of them.”
He chuckled. “The tree had fallen, and lay against other trees in the woods at a fair angle, but that makes for a good story, does it not?”
She laughed. “It certainly does.”
“And you? Are you enjoying London?”
Ah. The question she’d hoped he’d ask. “Very much, although I admit I have a bit of an ulterior motive for coming this season.”
“Oh? Husband hunting, are you?”
She sniffed. “Certainly not. I’m here seeking funding for improvements I wish to make at an orphanage.”
“Orphanage?”
“The conditions last winter were so bad that more than three fourths of the children died of typhus. That’s a higher rate than those who die of gaol fever in Newgate.”
“Good heavens.”
“Intolerable. So I demanded that those in authority be replaced and I’m personally supervising—and funding—necessary changes. Unfortunately, purchasing enough decent food for a whole houseful of orphans, not to mention improving their conditions, is very expensive, so I’m looking for new ways to locate sources of financial means. And the board of directors is being extremely cautious.” She sighed helplessly, secretly waiting to see if he’d taken the bait.
His eyes took on a faraway look. “I’m an orphan. Fortunately for me, my grandparents took me in. I could have been one of those with no family.”
She nodded. Lady Evensley had apparently taken great pains with her seating arrangements. “You are, indeed, fortunate you had family to care for you. Think of all those poor little ones with nowhere to go.”
“Perhaps I could help.”
She fixed a gaze of adoration upon him and let out a happy sigh. “Oh, that would be wonderful!” She reached into her reticule. “Here’s my card. Do call upon me and let’s discuss the particulars. I would be most grateful for your assistance.”
“Of course.”
Amelia tried not to gloat. Perhaps this plan would be easier than she thought. Thanks to Aunt Millie, and Lord and Lady Evensley, her re-entrée to society might work after all for the benefit of the children.
During the lull in conversation, Reed’s rich laugh rang out, drawing her gaze. He smiled at his dinner companion as if he hadn’t a care. Appalling, really, how all those old feelings resurfaced, feelings better left buried.
Yet with vicious intensity, memories played out in her mind; Reed laughing with the sun shining in his hair, the long, loving glances he used to cast her way from across the room, his fingers dancing on the pianoforte while his lovely baritone rang out, his compassion for all God’s creatures, his reckless streak whenever he rode a horse.
If only he’d come from a family of which Aunt and Uncle approved! Amelia cast a guilty glance at Aunt Millie across the table. Yet, at the moment, Amelia had trouble remembering why it would have been so bad to be the wife of a gentle surgeon whose grandfather owned a factory.
There were worse things.
Her gaze shifted to him again and Reed caught her stare. His expression hard, he silently raised a glass to her in mocking homage.
Amelia focused on eating, though she barely tasted the food.
He despised her; that much was clear. And she couldn’t blame him. If he’d rejected her for such shallow reasons as dowry or family status, she would have hated him, too. Besides, she was used to scorn; many of her old friends, except the Evensleys, rejected her due to her public and scandalous divorce. Most days she despised herself, but not for the reason people would suppose.
She continued speaking with the men next to her, charming them with all her skill in the hopes they’d be generous in their sponsorship of the orphanage. At the conclusion of the meal, she filed out with the ladies to leave the men to their conversation.
In the drawing room, one of the guests sat down at the harp. The sweet melody filled Amelia with a welcome calm. As a child Amelia had lain in her bedroom listening to her mother play the harp. The notes had sung to her in a tender lullaby. Amelia smiled at the memory.
Aunt Millie joined her on the settee. “Dr. St. Ives seems to have weathered the war well enough.”
“Indeed.” Amelia bit her lip.
Aunt Millie patted her hand and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, my dear. It’s only natural for some of your old feelings to return at the first sight of a former love. It does get better.”
If only it were that simple! Amelia looked up into the dear face of her namesake. “Did it happen to you?”
“Oh, yes. Each time I saw an old suitor for the first time, I had a bit of a shock. I always remembered what I adored about that particular young man. But it fades in time.”
“It’s been six years. It doesn’t appear to have faded.”
Aunt Millie squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with empathy. “Perhaps mine faded because I was so happy with your uncle, God rest his soul.”
Amelia wished she’d had the spine to follow her heart. But she hadn’t dared. Besides, it was too late now. And really, there was no way of knowing truly what might have been. She doubted she would have been content to remain in England while Reed went off to war. Nor could she imagine going with him to live the life of a soldier’s wife, witnessing the horrors of battle.
Instead she had trusted Aunt and Uncle’s judgment, and found ridicule, scandal, rejection, heartache in marriage to a different man. She’d faced her own private battle, her own private horrors. She’d faced them alone, without Reed’s strong, comforting presence. Following the drum at his side may not have been as bad. At least they would have had each other.
Shaking off her dark memories, Amelia glanced at the Lady Evensley who looked fully recovered. Still, it would be polite to inquire as to her health.
“Excuse me, Aunt.” She arose and crossed the room to her friend. “Are you feeling better?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. I can’t imagine what came over me.”
Saucily, Amelia said, “One sherry too many, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.” Lady Evensley lowered her gaze, blushing deeply.
Amelia suspected the lady was in a family way, yet she knew better than to ask such a personal question, even of a friend. After all, they’d only known each other a couple of years. “It was fortunate Dr. St. Ives was nearby to aid you.”
Lady Evensley smiled. “Such a kind man. Are you acquainted with him?”
“Yes, I met him before he went away to the war.”
“I understand he was the private surgeon for a general. Quite well respected—for a surgeon, that is.”
Amelia winced at yet another reminder about the unsuitability of a low-born surgeon marrying the daughter of a lord. Her voice came out a bit strangled. “I believe you are correct. It’s difficult not to respect him once one gets to know him. How do you know Dr. St Ives?”
“He and my husband became friends during the war—an unlikely friendship, to be sure, which only speaks volumes about the character of Dr. St. Ives.” Lady Evensley let out a sigh. “I’m so glad my dear one is home well and whole.”
Amelia’s heart swelled with sympathy. “I know you are. I cannot believe how well you managed without him.”
“It wasn’t easy, I assure you. I’d like to give that horrible Napoleon a piece of my mind for all the mischief he caused.”
Amelia hid a smile, unsure if ‘mischief’ was quite the right word for years of war and bloodshed the Corsican Monster caused.
Lady Evensley glanced sideways at Amelia, her eyes twinkling. “The good doctor is uncommonly handsome, and my husband couldn’t say enough about him. I am persuaded that plenty of young ladies might be willing to overlook his low family connections to make such a match.”
“Perhaps
.” Amelia hoped her voice did not betray her, but feared her expression already had. She’d never been good at disguising her thoughts.
The gentlemen eventually joined them, and they all began a game of charades. Despite her earlier vow to avoid watching Reed, he drew her gaze as he laughed and interacted with the other guests who’d unquestioningly accepted him into their elite circle. They might have done it for the host’s sake, but more likely because of Reed’s infectious charm.
Reed never glanced her way. Either he was ignoring her deliberately, or had absolutely no feelings for her whatsoever.
She shifted her position so that another guest blocked her view of him. Best not to look at temptation.
Lady Evensley stood. “I know this may sound juvenile, but let’s play a game of hide and seek. We played it at the duchess’s party Tuesday past, and it was ever so much fun.”
Exclamations of delight followed this announcement and there was a flurry of activity as people fled the room in search of hiding places.
Amelia was tempted to plead fatigue and return home, thus sparing herself further anguish of Reed’s presence. Yet she found herself reluctant to leave, probably out of some bizarre desire to further inflict pain upon herself by vainly watching for Reed while he continued to ignore her.
The unconcealed pain in his eyes as she’d declared them unsuitable years ago haunted her even now. No doubt that pain turned into resentment and eventually hatred. Perhaps he’d moved on, loved another woman, and forgotten all they once had. The thought pierced her heart like an arrow.
She should leave. Remaining here only reopened old wounds. Besides, her work here was done. She’d gotten both of her dinner companions to agree to meet with her to discuss helping fund the orphanage.
After scanning the emptying room, she found Aunt Millie, virtually sparkling, something she rarely did since Uncle had died. Amelia curled her hands into fists. It would be selfish to ask Aunt Millie to leave. Amelia could hire a hack and return home alone of course, but shivered at the thought of doing so this late at night.
Very well, a game of hide and seek. She could find a hiding place that would ensure she wouldn’t be found, and enjoy some solitude.
Amelia went to the library. Inside, she waited to let her vision adjust to the dim lighting coming from only a few candles, then curled up between a sideboard table and a display case behind a divan, looking forward to time away from all pretenses.
“Well.”
Something warm touched her back.
Stifling a cry, Amelia turned her head. Her breath left in a whoosh. “Reed.”