Two weeks had passed since the fiasco, as Amelia called it, and Jameson considered the situation he was in with a fatalistic air. He was now pièce de résistance of the ton. The only place he could escape the whispers, the laughs, and the speculation was in the company of his two oldest friends. Today he was keeping Amelia company while she snipped roses, of all things.
He knew full well it was his own doing. Months earlier he had thought Miss Underwood would make him an excellent wife. She was sweet, kind, and happy. All things he’d thought would make for a lasting relationship.
But alas, he was not cut out for sweet or kind; it was too dull. And he’d seen, in the dullness, his demise. His emotions, still bruised and raw after all these years, had flooded back and he’d panicked. He’d seen his father’s face looking back at him in the mirror. He’d seen his mother’s beautiful face frozen into that rage-filled expression for the rest of her days, short though they were. He could not do that to himself or Miss Underwood. She deserved better. Whether he did or not was up for debate, but he could not help but fight so desolate a future.
It would certainly be easier to give up on the idea of marriage altogether. Indeed, he wouldn’t have to try all that hard now that Amelia had done her work.
He smiled as she snipped mercilessly. It was a shame she was not in charge of the militia; Napoleon would have surrendered at the first sighting. He would have seen in an instant that she would find the most expedient way of disposing of him and consequences be damned.
Jameson had no doubt that if he told her he wished to marry this week she would find a bride for him as quickly as she’d made him the laughingstock of London. She’d march with her head held high, call the best girls, and drag them to him.
And no doubt by the time they arrived they’d all think it was their own idea to wed the now black cad of the ton.
A man would never get bored with Amelia. Indeed, he’d have to stay three steps ahead if he could or he’d find himself bound for the colonies in search of something vital, only to find when he arrived he had no idea what.
But he’d need never worry about treading on her sensibilities. If her husband so much as looked at another woman, she’d give him a sound tongue-lashing and off to bed without his supper. Possibly off to the colonies yet again, poor lad.
No wonder the chit turned down a proposal nearly every week. The heady mix of excitement and peace of mind was more alluring than her dowry. Married to Amelia? Heaven indeed for the man lucky enough to catch her. The trick, it seemed, was in getting her to accept.
“It’s come to my attention, Amelia, that you are as yet unwed.”
A laugh escaped her and she looked over at his prostrate form. “I’m surprised you noticed, Jameson. What was it that gave me away?”
“I’m simply wondering why? Has there not been a single satisfactory man in the scads who have proposed? Pray tell what you are looking for.”
Amelia snipped a rose and sniffed it. “It’s quite simple, really. I’ve promised myself that the first man who asks, who I could live with day after day without killing, will be honored with my acceptance. It’s hardly my fault that your sex rarely qualifies for such standards.”
“With those standards I’m not sure you’ll ever find the right chap. There’s not a one I’d choose to live with.”
“So, you see. It’s quite the dilemma. Remain a spinster or become a murderess. Perhaps one day being a murderess will seem the better option.”
Jameson said, “Or perhaps one day you will meet this paragon and sweep him off his feet.”
“There is always that possibility, highly unlikely though it seems.”
Jameson inspected his friend of many years as if for the first time. What did others see when they gazed at her? It was most difficult to see someone when you’d known them all their life. Especially when you weren’t supposed to see them at all. A best friend’s sister is quite out of the question to dally with.
Her slate grey eyes sparkled and jabbed. He’d never known them to look coquettish or shy or anything less than determined. And her black hair was worn in no fashion whatsoever, simply out of the way.
“You don’t wear frills, Amelia?”
“No, Jameson. Have you had too much sun?”
“I’m just looking. Why no frills?”
“The question should be why frills? I would look positively silly.”
“That doesn’t stop any other lady.”
She snipped another rose. “Is that an argument for or against my wearing frills?”
“I’m trying to picture you in virginal white with lacy frills cascading down your dress. I can’t seem to do it.”
“Probably because you were not there when I came out. I do believe that was the first and last time I wore frills.”
Jameson sat up. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I forgot that your come-out was cut short. Do you regret missing that heady first year?”
Amelia glanced at him in amusement. “My come-out was not all that heady, as I recall. It did not take long to learn what lengths men will go to acquire my wealth.”
“Your father would never have let you marry that sh–”
“I’d like to think so, but the scandal he spread about me limited the number of suitable suitors for a time. My father might have got desperate eventually.”
Jameson narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her. “Your father would never have sold you to the lowest bidder, my dear. I hope you remember that about him. He loved you. And was far too lenient with you, as I recall.”
Jameson remembered the late Lord Beckham with fondness bordering on fanaticism. He had treated all those around him with fairness and kindness and had welcomed Jameson into his home and family without reservation. He had been quite vocal on Jameson’s behalf after the death of his parents.
The late Lord Beckham had also adored his daughter, and Jameson had always thought he would treat his own daughter the same. Definitely a handful for the man who would eventually marry her, but Jameson had never seen anything wrong with a little spirit.
Amelia smiled slightly. “He never could take the strap to me, no matter how much I deserved it.”
“And you turned out quite well without it.”
She laughed. “I think there are some who would disagree with you but I consider myself quite lucky. I shudder to think that if Father hadn’t died so soon into my first season, no doubt I would be married to a philandering idiot with ten children by now. By the time my mourning had passed, I had gained some sense. It pains me to think he had to die for that lesson to be learned.”
“Your father was the kind of man who would see his death as a small price to pay for your happiness.”
She smiled at him. “You are a kind man, Jameson. Sometimes you remind me of him.” She shook her head and grinned at him. “And other times I wonder from whence you sprang.”
He chuckled. “The feeling is mutual, my dear dragon.”
Amelia placed her clippers in the basket and settled next to him. “Jameson, I do believe it’s time to be seen in society again. You can not hide forever, it is unlike you.”
He lay back down. “I’m not hiding. You advised me, forcibly, to keep myself scarce so that Miss Underwood could undo the fiasco.”
“And she has prospered. She is the girl of the hour and I daresay she can have her pick of suitable matches. Now you can resume your role in society. You can not hide in my garden forever.”
“I don’t see why not. It’s very peaceful here. And if I resume my role in society I will have silly girls once again thrown at me. It is very tedious, Amelia. I believe it is the sole reason I proposed to Miss Underwood in the first place. A man’s best defense against the mothers is a wife.”
Amelia said, “I hadn’t realized you were so terrified of a few women and their frilly daughters.”
“I said it was tedious, not terrifying. A man can not go to his club without someone’s brother extolling her virtues or her dowry. Or go to a ball and be required to swing this
girl and that around the dance floor. No, I will not resume society until I am assured my name has been stricken off every mother’s list.”
“Perhaps the fiasco has accomplished that.”
Jameson shook his head. “It will take more than that, Amelia. The ton can be very forgiving when money is involved, as you well know.”
They both knew that had she been penniless when that shabbaroon had attempted to win a bride through lies and threats that she’d be either married or living in the remote countryside now. As it was, it had still taken her unbending refusal to acknowledge the rumor and her father’s death to quell the lingering doubts about her virtue.
She nodded. “These rumors will die down as well. And when the time comes that you’re ready for matrimony I’ll find you a girl you can’t flash a grin at and ride roughshod over. You need someone with a backbone, otherwise you are much too daunting.”
“I can’t help it that women find me hard to resist.”
“You can’t help it that you’re a pain in the–”
“My dear! Language. What would your mother say.”
Amelia sniffed. “She should never have let me play with you growing up.”
“Let you? I hardly think she did. Has anyone ever let you do anything? We’ve learned to simply get out of your way.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I’m a man. It’s expected of me.”
Amelia said, “You’re a lunatic, that’s what you are.”
He laughed. “It is so refreshing to be in the company of friends, my dear. Will you dine with me tonight? Cook is making charred pheasant; I know that is your favorite.”
She smiled. “I suppose I have not wearied of your presence yet. Will Robin be joining us?”
Jameson nodded. “I’m sure he will oblige. We are meeting at the club this afternoon. He promised to keep watch for sister-peddling brothers.”
Amelia clapped her hands. “You are going back into society! You have tired of roses, after all.”
“I would never tire of your roses, Amelia, if you offered a drink as well.”
“Hmm. I wonder why I never thought to offer one.”
He stood and bowed theatrically. “If I leave now I believe I shall have just enough time to refresh myself before Robin and I meet. My toilet has suffered these last weeks and I’m afraid I would be barred entrance if I arrived looking like this.” He waved a disgusted hand over his pristine clothing and intricately-tied cravat.
Amelia looked to the heavens beseechingly while he helped her up. “I don’t know how your valet has survived. There’s been no one to see his work except for Robin and me.”
“Every night I find he’s cried himself to sleep over a large bottle of my finest brandy. This enforced hiatus is costing me a fortune.”
“It would probably cost less if you did not join him.”
Jameson winked. “Indubitably. Until tonight, my dear.”
Robin arrived at the club early and waited for his friend outside. He knew Jameson had not been anywhere public in weeks and was nervous about the reception. Robin was nervous about it as well. It had been easy to keep the horrid rumors about Jameson secret until now and Robin did not know how his friend was going to react. Anger, depression, withdrawal?
Robin patted his forehead with his handkerchief. He should have told Jameson long ago and in private. Why had he listened to Amelia? She’d sounded so certain when she said it would be best if Jameson was kept unawares during his exile; she’d said that he wouldn’t be tempted to correct any rumors if he didn’t know anything about them. And it had worked. Miss Underwood was doing fabulously.
But now Jameson was going public again. Robin knew he had to be told, and it would be best to tell him when he was far, far away from Amelia. Robin loved his sister; he wouldn’t want Jameson to try and throttle her.
Jameson jumped from a hackney and thumped him on the back. “Thank you for meeting me here, old chap. If women were allowed, I’d have brought Amelia and hidden behind her skirt as well. Perhaps I have been away too long after all.”
“You lasted longer than we all thought possible. Even Amelia agrees that you went above and beyond in your seclusion.”
“Yes, she practically threw me out of her garden today. I suppose I must emerge and find out what damage has been done. You do think enough time has passed for Miss Underwood to get the upper hand?”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t found herself engaged already.”
They entered the club, nodding at the few men sitting and reading. It was too early in the day for the younger set but Robin knew that Jameson’s emergence from his voluntary exile would circulate quickly anyway.
They sat and ordered drinks, and Jameson leaned back in his chair comfortably. “I know you have kept it all from me these past weeks, but tell me now Robin, what is the damage?”
Robin gratefully took his drink, not looking at his friend. “Are you certain you wish to know?”
“Better to find out from a friend.”
Robin nodded, looking anywhere but at Jameson. “I just want you to know that I don’t believe Amelia intended it to go this direction.”
Jameson sipped.
Robin said, “Once a rumor starts, there’s no stopping it.”
“Oh, I’m sure she could have steered it in a different direction if it had suited her purpose.”
“She would never hurt you if she could avoid it.”
Jameson grinned at his friend’s discomfort. “Robin, I am well acquainted with your sister and have no illusions about her character. I liken her to a surgeon. She would chop off my right arm if it would save my life and expect me to thank her for doing it. I don’t doubt that whatever vile thing is floating out there about me she spread it with the sole intent to save me from myself. And I have already thanked her. Her quickness and boldness have saved Miss Underwood from my cowardice. Now, tell me how much it has cost me; what is the rumor?”
Robin sighed loudly and said, “Like father, like son.”
“Pardon?”
“The rumor is that Miss Underwood found out about your father and mother. When she confronted you about the scandal, you told her of your mistress and hoped that she would not overreact like your mother did.”
Robin stole a quick glance at Jameson. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes looked vacant. He snapped his mouth shut, then took a drink. He took another drink.
Then Jameson shook his head and said, “You’re telling me that after jilting my bride so that I would not turn into my father, everyone thinks that I was jilted because I am exactly like him.”
Robin nodded sadly.
Jameson continued. “And my bride-to-be is now the toast of the town because she, what, escaped from a cruel, pity-filled marriage before it happened?”
“Amelia says she has heard Miss Underwood described as a paragon of womanhood and that she is considered a heroine for good and decent women everywhere who get caught in the lure of handsome, soulless men.”
Jameson snorted. He snorted so loudly that an older gentleman sitting near the fire turned to glare at them. Jameson’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red and his mouth quivered. Robin politely looked away as Jameson took out his handkerchief and covered his face. The poor chap; having the past thrown into one’s face like that would undo anyone. Especially when it was a past one worked so hard to forget.
A choked sound escaped Jameson’s handkerchief and Robin leaned closer.
“Shall I hail a hackney, Jameson?” What gossip would come from Jameson crying in public Robin shuddered to imagine. Not even Amelia could control it.
A muffled “she is a beast” escaped the handkerchief.
Robin grimaced and nodded. “Yes, but she means well.”
Jameson patted his eyes and choked out, “My God, she is diabolical.”
Robin stared. “Are you. . . laughing?”
“Your sister has an evil ingenuity that I can only envy. Where does she c
ome up with these ideas?”
Robin slowly sipped his drink. “I’m glad you are amused, Jameson. I was worried how I was going to get you out of the club without anyone seeing you.”
Jameson knocked back his drink and grinned, still chuckling a little. “I will admit that it was not what I was expecting, but it does have a perfect sort of symmetry to it. I should have expected no less. Did you have so little confidence in my thick skin, Robin?”
Robin shook his head. “I knew in time you would approve of any character slight if it helped Miss Underwood. However, I was glad that when the time came to tell you, Amelia was not present.”
Jameson laughed aloud. “Afraid I would be tempted to murder her?” He shook his head. “I have heard far worse from her very lips to take offense. I’m sure your sister would have been here herself if she’d known you were finally going to tell me. I’ve never known her to back down from any threat.”
“That’s my sister for you. Backbone aplenty.”
Jameson grinned, then froze with his drink halfway to his mouth.
He stared at his friend of so many years and slowly said, “Backbone? Yes, she does have a rather lot of it, doesn’t she?”
“Jameson?”
“Sorry old chap, I was just hit over the head with a revelation. Dinner tonight?”
Robin finished his drink and shook his head. “Sorry, I have business to attend to. Come if you like, shouldn’t be too tedious. Better than staying home, at least.”
“Thank you, I’ll pass. Perhaps I will go and bother Amelia about this rumor she has started.”
Robin eyed him. “You’re sure you’re not angry? I can’t have you murdering my sister; she’s the only one I’ve got.”
“I appreciate your faith in me but I doubt I could take her.” He thought for a moment. “Perhaps if I snuck up behind her.”
Robin smiled. “If you’re sure.”
“Have no fear, Robin. Murder is the furthest thing from my mind.”
Jameson sent a note round to Amelia after Robin departed.
Robin is unavailable. Is your cook capable of charring pheasant? The impropriety of entertaining you alone at my home, you see.
He was left blessedly alone while he awaited her reply. Perhaps his re-entry into polite society would not be as torturous as he had feared. If the fiasco lessened the number of boringly suitable young women thrown in his path, he would consider himself a very lucky jackanapes indeed.
Amelia’s reply was quick in coming and he read it with anticipation.
Impropriety, I see. I’m sure it has more to do with you forgetting to give notice to your cook. Have no fear, our cook keeps charred pheasant on hand. We shall simply have to see if the butler grants you admittance. There is so little time to alert him, you see.
A backbone and humor. He shook his head, exiting the club. He waved off a hackney driver and strolled down the street.
The idea that had tickled his brain earlier tickled a little harder. Married to Amelia?
He thought of the fears he held of marriage, of hurting a wife as his father had. With Miss Underwood he could all too easily see how it would have happened. With Amelia? He laughed aloud at the thought of Amelia letting any situation get so out of control. At the first sign of impropriety she would spring into action, ending it.
By what means exactly she would accomplish it, he had no idea. But thinking of the diabolical rumors she had spread to save poor Miss Underwood, he knew it would be swift and fool-proof. Amelia did not lose; her history had proved to her that society could be more forgiving than it threatened. If one was willing to pay the price.
He had thought before that the man lucky enough to tempt her into marriage would have a peace of mind nearly unheard of. He would be assured of not only her loyalty but his own as well. She would simply not allow anything else.
He shook his head, imagining himself in the role of her husband and she of his wife. The rightness of it filled him. The peace of it filled him.
And what an adventure it would be. The fun of it. Butting heads with Amelia was very nearly one of his favorite forms of recreation; pitting his charm against her unbending will left him energized and refreshed. He could only assume she felt the same since they engaged in the activity so often.
He could only too easily envision his life filled with her, focused on her. Why had it taken him so long to entertain the idea? Besides the fact that she was one of his oldest friends, and he’d grown up with her, and he nearly considered her his sister.
Yes, those were all very good reasons why he hadn’t thought of her as marriage material in the past. But what about the future? Instead of his friend, could she be his wife?
Three