Chapter 6
Reed spent a torturous week fighting images of Amy and the softness in her eyes as she’d said, ‘I never stopped loving you.’
He’d been right to turn her away, of course. Only a dolt would lay his heart at the foot of a woman twice, much less at the foot of an aristocratic woman.
So if he’d been right, then why did he feel as if he’d swallowed a mace—ball, spikes and all?
He busied himself with purchasing supplies needed to open a practice in the country, as well as what he’d need to establish a home of his own. An empty home, without the touch of a woman.
But there’d be other women. He would not be alone forever. He’d certainly had enough women throw themselves at him that he never doubted his looks or charm. He’d find the daughter of a country gentleman who’d be happy to marry a man of his station.
He doubted he’d ever find another woman with the voice of an angel and the face of a goddess. Or with her compassion. Once, she’d found a fallen bird and had lovingly nursed it back to health, though with an injury that left it unable to fly. Did she still have that bird as a pet? No wonder she’d made a project of an orphanage. That really wasn’t so unlike her at all.
She’d stood her ground against his bully of a grandfather, and immediately won over the old man. Grandfather had winked at Reed and dared him to marry that girl. He’d said she had “grit.” No doubt that admirable quality had carried her through a bad marriage and an ugly divorce.
Reed let out his breath in disgust. He had to purge her from his thoughts. However, six years had failed to do it, no matter how much he’d thrown himself into his work. Even the perils of living in the midst of a war had not banished memories of Amelia.
He paused mid-stride as a thought occurred to him. He’d changed during their separation. No doubt, so had she. If he were to court her, he’d find that they no longer had any common interests and that a union between them would not be desirable.
Perhaps therein lay the answer. He’d court Amelia; and he’d see exactly why he didn’t want her. Then he could move to the country and finally stop comparing every woman to her. He could live again. He could love again.
And the revenge would be so satisfying if he could make her well and truly in love with him, so that when he announced he wanted nothing further to do with her, he could leave her in the same wreckage she’d left him.
Yet the thought of hurting Amy left a sting of guilt. Could he actually look her in the eye and deliberately break her heart?
The following morning, he knocked at the door of her aunt’s house. Calling at this time of day broke all kinds of rules of society, instead of coming at the fashionable ‘at-home’ time, but perhaps he’d be forgiven due to his lowly status.
The butler looked him over as if to assess his worthiness. Then, no doubt noting the cut and fabric of his clothing, and assuming Reed to be a fashionable gentleman, asked in a respectful tone of voice, “May I help you, sir?”
Reed handed the butler his card. “Reed St. Ives to see Mrs. Dasherwood.”
“Mrs. Dasherwood is not at home, sir.”
Reed nodded, oddly disappointed. “Please be good enough to inform her that I have called.”
“Of course, sir.”
No doubt his card would be placed on a silver tray along with all the cards of other callers. Did she have many callers? The circumstances of her divorce being what they were, public opinion seemed to be that of horrified pity instead or scorn, which probably didn’t make for a wide circle of friends. Most of the beau monde only accepted the publicly untainted, as he well knew.
He turned away, took a hackney to a park, and ambled through the pathways. Nurses watching over children, and a few others strolled in the sun. A horsewoman galloped down a riding path with all the regal bearing of a queen, yet pushed her mount to an almost reckless pace as if trying to outrun invisible demons chasing her. He admired her form as she neared, then sucked in his breath. The horsewoman was Amelia Dasherwood.
She rode without appearing to notice him. Yet, at the last moment, just as she passed him, her gaze flicked his way. Behind him, hoof steps slowed and then stopped. He glanced over his shoulder. She sat turned in the saddle, motionless, with her gaze fixed upon him as if undecided whether to engage him.
He’d been unforgivably cool at their last meeting. She probably needed some sign of warmth to venture an approach.
He lifted his hand in a greeting and sauntered toward her with a casualness he didn’t feel. He fought the inclination to run to her and bare details of his lonely existence since she walked out of his life. A man had his pride, after all.
She turned her horse around, walked toward him, and stopped a few feet away. He admired her figure as she sat side-saddle, every inch a lady, wearing a riding habit of rich purple, a tasteful and elegant bonnet perched on her head. She’d always had a flair for fashion. A few tendrils had escaped her chignon and blew around her face, giving her an earthy, approachable look.
He offered a tentative smile. “I just came from your house.”
She blinked. “You did?”
“I did. I’d hoped I could entice you to go riding with me.”
A faint curving of those lips came in reply. “You went to my house, without a horse, to see if I wanted to go riding with you?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I assumed you wouldn’t be able to go with me on the spot, but thought I could entice you to join me tomorrow morning.”
She said nothing at first, merely swept her gaze over him as if to learn all his secrets. Finally, she moistened her lips. “I accept.” She smiled, yet a hint of wariness remained in her eyes.
He wanted to erase the caution in her expression and assure her he’d never hurt her. But wasn’t he planning on doing just that—woo her, discover that they didn’t suit, and then leave, preferably after stealing away her heart? Shame at his own heartlessness edged through his resolve.
He cleared his throat. “I rather fancy an ice at the moment. Care to accompany me to Gunther’s?” Though they were on the opposite side of the park from Gunther’s, the walk would be lovely.
“I’d be delighted.” Yet that hint of caution remained.
As she made to dismount, he stepped closer to help her down. He closed his hands over her waist and lowered her to the ground, her soft body brushing against his. Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself that now was not the time to pull her into his arms. She looked up at him, her cheeks pink from the early morning air, and her lips within easy reach. All he’d have to do is lower his head a little...
He cleared his throat and stepped back, reminding himself he needed to move slowly before he would gain her trust. Then he’d be the one walking away instead of the one left behind.
Yet, after only moments in her presence, that idea began to sound less and less appealing.
As they strolled side by side, Amy led her horse and cast guarded glances his way. The horse let out his breath in a whoosh and shook his head, jingling the tack. A bird sang with all its heart in a nearby tree, nearly drowning out the chorus of other birdsong.
Reed searched for a topic. “I understand you’re sponsoring an orphan asylum.”
Her eyes lit up. “I am. It’s for this reason that I’ve returned to London—to gain supporters. There’s so much to do.”
“Have you had any luck? Finding supporters, I mean?”
“Yes, much more than I’d hoped. The Evensleys and my aunt have been of tremendous support and have recommended my venture to their friends. Some still only see me as a woman of scandal, but many have been more helpful than I expected.”
“It’s a worthy cause.”
She smiled up at him. “Very. Oh, Reed, you should have seen them. Nearly three-fourths of the children died last year due to typhus. The survivors are so thin and weak—poor, half-starved things without adequate heat or clothing.”
Unable to stop himself, Reed said, “If I can be of any assistance, let me know. As an officer on
half-pay, I haven’t much to give financially, of course, but I’d be happy to offer my services as a doctor. I have studied as physician as well as a surgeon.”
“That’s very generous of you, thank you.” Her smiled turned so dazzling that Reed had to remind himself of all the reasons why he did not want to develop feelings for her.
A faint breeze whispered in the trees, bringing Amy’s taunting perfume. He drew in a deep breath, filling his senses with her fragrance.
She spoke in a hushed voice. “Your grandfather...he doesn’t support you?”
“He offers, but his gifts always come with a price. I value my independence too much.”
“Of course. I meant no offence.” Her mouth twisted to one side and a gleam entered her eyes. “Do you suppose he might help support an orphan asylum?”
He chuckled. “You could always ask. He is in London right now.”
“I believe I shall.”
They walked together, their footsteps falling synchronously. He wondered if he’d matched his pace to hers, or if she’d adjusted. They’d always found themselves walking in stride when they’d walked together in the past, her arm tucked in his, his chest swelling in pride that she was with him, of all men. How many dreams they had then!
He gave himself a mental shake. “How’s your aunt?”
“My aunt?”
“Is she still having trouble sleeping?”
“Oh, that. I suggested she pay you a call.”
“I do have a rather good remedy I’ve developed myself and I hope to offer it to my new patients.”
“I didn’t realize you did that sort of thing.”
He shrugged. “I’ve discovered an interest in the healing powers of plants as well as traditional medicine and surgery. I should have given it to you when you called. I apologize for my conduct.” He inwardly winced at his abrupt dismissal.
“Think nothing of it.” But hurt shone through her eyes before she lowered her lashes.
Wincing, Reed closed his eyes. Only a beast would cause her pain. He’d have to fortify himself against her if he truly meant to prove their unsuitability. Otherwise, he risked losing his heart to her again.
She cleared her throat delicately. “How soon do you depart? For the country?”
“I’d planned to go the end of the month.”
She looked up at him. Was that disappointment in her eyes? “So soon?”
“I might delay, if given the right incentive.” He gave her a meaningful look. “I must admit, however, that I’m anxious to begin setting up my practice, although I suspect many my patients will include animals.”
Her lips twitched. “How are you at delivering horses?”
“About as good as I am at delivering babies.”
“I don’t suppose you had much call for that in the middle of a war.”
“You’d be surprised at how many babies I delivered, both of the four and two-legged kind. The camp followers and officers’ wives produced a surprising number of them, legitimate or otherwise.”
“Oh.” Her face colored slightly. She glanced up at him, her lip held between her teeth, her unspoken question dangling in the air between them. Her eyes, bluer than the morning sky, began that familiar dance as if searching for answers in his.
Reed stood as if poised on the edge of a cliff. Did he have the courage to leap?
“None of the babies were mine,” he said softly.
She focused on the ground. “It really isn’t my concern.”
“Perhaps not, but I wanted you to know.” His hand itched to touch her smooth cheek, and had to remind his heart not to care. His heart didn’t listen.
Her breath came in audible bursts. “No one took your place in my heart.” She halted and looked up at him. “I felt like an unfaithful wretch, married to him and thinking of you. Then I realized he didn’t care. He preferred it that way, even, because he was thinking of someone else, too—a different person every few days, of course—but he was never faithful to me.”
“I’m sorry.” And he truly was sorry, curse him for an imbecile.
“I’m sorry, too. I thought by marrying a man of whom my uncle approved, I would be assured of happiness. I was wrong.” Her words came out in a rush with hurt and bitterness carved into every syllable. “I know people aren’t usually surprised when married men keeping mistresses, but it hurt me to think I wasn’t enough for him. At first I thought it was my fault—if I had really loved him, and had been totally faithful to him in my heart, perhaps he wouldn’t have strayed.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “But when I found out he never gave up his mistress, and even got a new mistress every few months when he got bored of his last, and that public affair with first the opera singer and then that actress, I realized loving him would not have saved our marriage, it would only have destroyed me.” She twisted the reins in trembling hands.
If only he could have protected her from all that!
Reed closed his eyes. He’d been foolish to think spending more time with her would cure his obsession with her. Instead, it made it worse. Yet he was an even greater idiot for considering a future with someone whose decisions were based upon public opinion. He considered Lord Evensley’s comment that she turned him down to please her uncle more than for society’s approval.
After a moment, Reed said, “If he’d been worthy of you, you would have loved him.”
“I’d like to think so, but I compared every man I met to you. They always lacked in some way.”
He took a steadying breath, uncertain whether her revelation left him elated, relieved, or terrified.
She let out a half sob. “The killing blow came when he began flaunting his actress, taking her to all the parties where he should have been taking me and telling everyone that she was the Fire Queen and I was the Ice Queen. The newspapers...” she choked, “had a party with that.”
Reed let out his breath, shaken at her husband’s cruelty. During all those years abroad, he pictured her confession how much she loved him and how she regretted turning him down, and him effectively snubbing her. He’d imagined how satisfied he’d feel to hurt her like she’d hurt him. But seeing the stark pain, the open vulnerability, only made him want to protect her. His plan to court her long enough to free his heart, cracked.
He curled his hands into fists, aching to peel away all the lost time between them, hold her in his arms, tuck her into his heart. Like a knight of old, he wanted to shield her from everything hurtful, vanquish her enemies, and carry her off to safety.
She started walking again, and he fell into step with her. A gentle wind stirred the trees, punctuated by her horse’s soft clip-clop behind them. A pair of laughing children ran past with their nursemaid close on their heels.
Reed watched Amy, but she kept her gaze downward, her arms folded like a shield to protect her from hurt.
He raised a hand toward her, but dropped it without touching her. “I’m amazed you ever come to London at all anymore.”
“I didn’t last Season. After my divorce, I stayed in the country and refused what few visitors came calling.”
“What changed your mind?”
“The orphanage. I came to gain supporters for it. Aunt Millie helped me a great deal, especially these last few weeks since I’ve been back in Town. She’s such a dear lady.” Amelia glanced apologetically at him as if realizing her words might have wounded him.
Their gazes held. In her eyes swirled years of regret and sorrow. Reed had to clamp his mouth shut before he said something he’d later regret.
They passed a girl carrying a basket of violets who offered them a timid smile. She dropped her head and moved on, no doubt to the marketplace where she hoped to sell her flowers.
Amelia called to her. “I’d like a bouquet, miss.”
“Oi, m’laedy, thankee kindly.”
“Allow me,” Reed said with a smile.
Amelia watched him guardedly as he paid the coin and then handed a bunch of flower
s to her with a flourish.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She lowered her head into the flowers and drew in a deep breath. Reed suspected the maneuver had more to do with avoiding his gaze more than to enjoy the scent.
Without raising her head Amelia said, “I can’t believe I told you all that about my husband—former husband. You must think me a very great fool.”
“I think your husband was a very great fool and I’d like to tell him so.” Actually, he wanted to wring the man’s neck.
Her gaze slid his way and she blinked at him. “Truly?”
“Certainly. And as far as your former friends, anyone who knows you is a half-wit to listen to that kind of petty rumor. You are the warmest and most caring lady I’ve ever known.”
She halted and turned to face him fully, the full impact of her searching gaze hitting him like a sudden gust of wind. “Do you really mean that?”
“I do.”
“Then...you don’t hate me?”
He drew a slow breath and shook his head. “No, of course I don’t hate you.”
“I feared you did.”
“I admit it was a bit unsettling seeing you again. I apologize for my cool greeting. And for my words in the library.” However, he could not regret the kiss.
She shook her head and began walking again. “Nothing less than I deserve, I’m sure.”
“That’s not true.”
“I just wish I’d made better choices in the past.” She glanced quickly at him. “I wish I’d had the courage to marry you when you wanted me. I know you no longer do, but it breaks my heart to think that you’re leaving and I’ll lose you again.”
Her confession left him winded. He didn’t have the armor necessary to ward off Amelia’s assault. He didn’t have a shield to defend himself from these weapons of honesty and longing and love.
Then she delivered the final blow. “I know you must think me shameless for declaring myself to you, but if I let you leave without telling you how I feel, I will always regret it. And believe me; I don’t need any more regret. In spite of my marriage, my heart has been constant to you.”
He pressed his hand to his eyes. How could he fight this? This was the Amelia he’d loved, the guileless girl who spoke her mind and loved with such innocence.
But doubt clouded his thoughts if they could really be happy together, or if years of bitterness left him too closed over to give and receive love.