Authors: Ruth J. Hartman
The cat winked one eye and twitched his whiskers.
“
Mind if I join you?”
Both green eyes now were wide open. Sunny yawned, but didn’t move.
“
Oh, very well, my lazy friend.” Amelia scooped up the bundle of fur and held him close to her chest. His fur was warm from the sun. She sat down on the bench and settled Sunny in her lap.
“
How long do you suppose we have until someone finds us out here, hmm?” Amelia loosened the backs of her slippers with the opposite toes. “Ah… Now that’s nice. Sunny, you’ve no idea how fortunate you are that you don’t have to be encumbered by shoes.” The cat’s loud purr came out as quick and rumbling as a thunder boom.
Amelia laughed. She swung her legs up onto the bench and leaned her head against the other end. Dappled sunlight through tree branches warmed her shoulders. A gentle breeze teased long tendrils of hair close to her face. As gentle as a lover’s hand.
Oh my.
Where did that come from? Was it because of her earlier conversation with her father about…?
Old Lord Griffith.
Amelia pressed her lips together. No. She couldn’t be stuck with him for a husband. She just
couldn’t
. Could she convince Lord Lofton to marry her?
She stayed a few moments more and then reluctantly sat up and placed Sunny back on the bench. “If things go well, my friend, I’ll have a new husband soon. And he won’t be
eighty
.”
Birds twittered and
chirped in the treetops above her. Amelia sat on a bench beneath one of the many trees of the Regent’s Park Bird Sanctuary. Spending time with nature soothed her soul, and the Sanctuary was one of her favorite places to visit. Sometimes, though, she had to share her space with Lucy Shipley, if they were to draw the same bird for their art assignment. Their instructor must have had a mean streak the day he assigned the two women to be drawing partners, because they could barely be near one another without tempers flaring.
Footsteps approached from her right. Amelia looked up.
Lucy.
So much for enjoying a pleasant morning at the Sanctuary.
Lucy sat down at the other end of the bench. “Good morning, Amelia.”
“
Good morning.” Amelia hated to even have Lucy sit near her when they drew. The other woman’s talent was vastly superior to hers.
Will I ever improve?
So many times she’d thought of giving up. If she couldn’t be as good as Lucy, what was the point?
Lucy retrieved her paper and pencil from her reticule and set the bag aside. Amelia had to admit that the other woman was stunning with her dark curly hair and brown eyes. No wonder she’d had two men fighting over her.
That wasn’t the whole reason, though. Lucy was just plain nice. To everyone except Amelia.
And whose fault was that?
Perhaps… a tiny possibility existed that Amelia had invited Lucy’s rebuff. Jealousy overtook Amelia every time Lucy was near. If Lucy truly was a kind person and she couldn’t get along with her, what did that say about Amelia?
Nothing nice.
She sighed. Time to eat some of her more unpleasant words of late. If being polite to Lucy didn’t work, what had Amelia lost? They wouldn’t be any worse off than they had been.
Amelia leaned over to get a better look at Lucy’s drawing of a sparrow. “My, but that’s lovely.”
A gasp came from Lucy. “P-pardon?”
What did I expect? Does she think I’m being sarcastic? Serves me right. In the past, I would have been.
Amelia smiled. A genuine,
I hope someday you can forgive me,
smile. “I mean it, Lucy. You are very talented.”
Silence, except for the occasional chirping bird, surrounded them. “Thank you.”
“
You’re welcome.” Suddenly self-conscious, Amelia glanced back down at her own drawing. Hideous thing it was. Couldn’t even tell what species it was supposed to be.
Lucy cleared her throat. “And yours is quite…”
“
Ghastly.” Amelia looked back up. Lucy’s mouth was open in a perfect O.
“
I…” Pink colored Lucy’s cheeks and down her neck.
Amelia laughed. “It’s all right. You can say it. I’m sure you were thinking it.”
“
Not… ghastly… exactly.” A giggle escaped before she covered her mouth. “Oh dear. I’m sorry.”
“
Please.” Amelia placed her drawing to the side of the bench. “There’s no need for you to be sorry. I’m the one…” The rest of her words caught in her throat. Had she ever apologized to anyone before? Anyone besides her parents, that was, since it seemed she could never do anything to please them.
Warmth covered her hand and she peered down. Lucy held her hand and gave a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Tears burned, hovering just behind Amelia’s lower eyelids, threatening at the least provocation to spill down her cheeks.
“
Would you… like some help with your drawing?”
Heaviness lifted from Amelia’s chest, a weight she hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. “Yes, I think I would like that very much.”
Amelia handed Lucy her drawing. Lucy set them side by side on her lap. She tilted her head. “I think I see what might be the problem.”
“
You do?” She moved closer.
“
Your lines are heavy. Do you find that you bear down on the pencil when you draw?”
“
I never thought about it. Perhaps I do.”
With a nod, Lucy handed Amelia her drawing back. “Why don’t you show me how you would draw the wing and I’ll watch to see if you’re using too much pressure.”
“
That
is
the wing.”
“
Oh.”
A smile played on Amelia’s mouth. “And just what did you think that was?”
Lucy bit her lip against a grin. “The beak?”
Mirth overtook both of them at once. Amelia’s sides quivered. She wiped tears from her eyes. But this time, they were full of joy, not sadness. There had not been a time she could remember laughing with a friend like that. Ducks from a nearby pond quacked in response and the women laughed louder.
That’s because you don’t have any friends. No real ones, anyway.
The thought sobered her.
Lucy lost her mirth as well. “What’s wrong? I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”
And there it was. That was one reason Lucy was liked by everyone. An innate sweetness came from within, something Amelia had certainly never been accused of. It was time for a change. She might not ever be as sweet as Lucy, but she could certainly work on being pleasant. And patient. And… nice.
A tall order, but one at which she was determined to succeed. Perhaps she might even have better luck finding that elusive husband she’d need so badly in the very near future. “No, Lucy. You didn’t hurt my feelings.”
“
Then why…?” Lucy lifted her hand, palm up.
Amelia turned so that she could look her right in the eye. “You see, I just realized that I’ve never laughed like that with…”
“
With whom?”
Amelia’s shoulders rose in a shrug. “A friend.”
Moisture hovered at Lucy’s lower lids. “Yes, a friend.”
“
Now that we’re getting better acquainted, might I ask you a question?”
“
Of course.”
“
It has to do with Lord Lofton.”
Lucy’s gaze swung to her lap. “I see.”
“
If you’d rather not discuss him, I understand.”
“
No, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I’ve known him for years.”
“
Well, I know that at one time you were betrothed. Before you met Oliver, of course.”
“
Yes, that’s true.”
“
Would you… would you mind telling me what happened?”
Lucy let out a deep breath. “Conrad had pursued me for quite some time, though I had not any interest.”
Amelia nodded. That much she had assumed. “Go on.”
“
I came to find out that he was so persistent not from any feelings he had for me but because he wanted my inheritance.”
“
Oh.”
“
And then, of course, there was Oliver.” A dreamy smile crossed her lips and her eyes drifted nearly half closed. “Even though I thought him at the time to be a Sanctuary laborer and my father was against me seeing him, I still couldn’t seem to stay away.”
“
Your husband seems to be a very kind man.”
She glanced back toward Amelia. “Oh he is. I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter husband.”
“
So it’s true then.”
“
What’s true?”
“
You’ve found a love match.”
“
I have. I never thought that I would, but…”
“
It’s nice to know it happens for some, at least.”
“
Amelia, do you have a certain reason for inquiring about Lord Lofton?”
“
Perhaps.”
“
Have you an interest in him? For yourself?”
“
It has crossed my mind, yes.”
Lucy nodded.
“
There must have been reasons, though, other than his want of your inheritance that you turned him down.”
Lucy’s face colored again. A deeper red this time. “There were some things about him I found…”
“
Found?”
“
Off-putting.”
“
May I ask what sorts of things?” She held up a hand. “Again, if you don’t feel comfortable discussing it with me, it’s quite all right.”
“
No, I’ll tell you. If you are inclined toward the man, I suppose it’s wise to have all of the information before you enter into a possible courtship, is it not?”
“
I believe so, yes.”
“
Then I will be completely honest with you, since we are friends.”
That last word warmed Amelia down to her toes. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Lucy grabbed a loose tendril of hair and tucked in under her hat. “I suppose for every person there are characteristics physically which spark an interest in someone else. For me, my husband has those. He’s tall, broad-shouldered with dark hair and eyes. But more than that, it’s his heart. He is so kind and generous. And he makes me laugh.”
“
Very important, that.”
“
Quite.” She smiled. “Does that help?”
“
And the characteristics of Lord Lofton that turned you away?”
Lucy cleared her throat. “Well, he’s frightfully thin and pale. And…”
“
Yes?”
“
His breath, I’m afraid was…”
“
I see.” That was something Amelia would have to overlook if she had luck convincing him to marry her. Not something she’d look forward to, but she was running out of time, after all.
“
I’m sorry. I’ve upset you.”
“
No, not at all. As you said, it’s better to be prepared with all of the information beforehand. Anything else?”
“
His manner was usually not pleasant. At least not to me and Oliver.” She turned slightly on the seat to face Amelia. “To tell you the truth, in all the years I’ve known Conrad, I don’t feel as if I’ve ever really
known
him. Does that make sense?”
Doesn’t that describe me?
When had she ever let anyone get close enough to see the real person inside of her? Until now. How wonderful to have a friend with whom to talk, to unburden herself, and share secrets.
But you can’t share your secret about your plans with Lord Lofton
. No, she couldn’t do that. No one must know about that.
“
Lucy, it makes perfect sense. Maybe there’s more to Lord Lofton than we know.”
She inclined her head and smiled. “Perhaps there is.”
“
And I intend to find out what that is.”
Guilt pushed at
the edges of Conrad’s mind. When he’d taken that payoff from Oliver Shipley, it had been out of desperation. Greed, too, he had to admit, though the guilt was quickly overriding everything else. Oliver had had every right to marry Lucy. More right than Conrad had ever had, because Oliver actually loved the girl. For Conrad, she’d been nothing more than a means to an end. A way to combat the inevitable debt that threatened to consume him.
Blackmailing Lucy’s father over the crooked business deal was another mistake. A big one. What had he been thinking? He placed his head in his hands as he sat at his father’s desk, now
his
desk.
What have I become?
True, Lord Lofton hadn’t been his real father, but he was the man who had raised him. The man who would be so ashamed of his son at this moment.
I’m so sorry, Father.
Even though his father’s gambling was the reason for the debt that Conrad now battled, the way Conrad had chosen to combat it was shameful.
And then there was Mother. Overbearing, bossy, conniving. Judging by what she’d told Conrad, his father probably wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t gotten him drunk and had relations with him. Knowing her, it was all planned out. And as greedy and slimy as Conrad had been to Lucy and Oliver, he also knew deep down that his mother was the driving force. The one who continually pushed, scolded and complained. Yes, they were in debt because of his father’s past mistakes, but surely there would have been a better way, an honest way to acquire the funds other than what Conrad had done.
He shook his head. No. He would not,
could
not blame his mother for what he himself had done. He was an adult and made his own choices now. And he would make it right. He had to. A message to meet with Oliver was in order. Conrad wouldn’t feel right until the matter was resolved.
The top drawer to the desk squeaked as he tugged it open. Some foolscap and a pen and ink were stored there. He reached in and drew them out. As he did so, he was flooded with memories of playing beneath that very desk when his father was working. At times, the desk had been Conrad’s ship, of which he had been the captain. Other days it was a fortress, and it had been his duty to protect the beautiful young woman of his heart from danger.