Bound by One Scandalous Night Page 9

  ‘Are you feeling unwell?’ Amelie asked her.

  ‘Just a little weary, miss,’ she replied.

  Poor Sally. The young soldier she’d spent time with that night in Brussels had not survived the battle. It had been very hard for her.

  ‘Well, rest today,’ Amelie told her. ‘I do not require much of you.’

  ‘Thank you, miss.’

  There was a knock at her door, and Sally answered it.

  Staines, the footman, appeared in the doorway. ‘Miss Summerfield asks to see you, miss.’

  ‘Miss Summerfield?’ Why would Tess’s sister call upon her?

  Perhaps Tess was out.

  Amelie did not have the energy to go down to the drawing room. ‘Ask if she minds coming up here and show her up.’

  ‘Very good, miss,’ Staines said.

  ‘And send up some tea?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Do you need me, miss?’ Sally asked.

  Amelie gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Not at all. Tell anyone who questions you that I ordered you to rest. ’

  ‘Thank you, miss.’

  * * *

  Sally slipped out of Miss Glenville’s room and wearily climbed the stairs to the small attic room she shared with Mrs Glenville’s maid. She took off her shoes, sat down on her cot and buried her head in her hands.

  What was she to do?

  She touched her belly. There was no question now. She had Calvin’s baby inside her. All that was left of him. His body had lain among the dead on the Waterloo battlefield. She could not bear to think of it.

  He hadn’t meant to abandon her. That night before he left for the battle he promised to marry her, but now he was gone.

  What was she to do?

  Lady Northdon would sack her, she was certain. The only family she had left was her sister, and she was in service, too, not in any position to help. Calvin had a cousin somewhere, but why would Calvin’s cousin take her in, even if he believed that she carried Calvin’s child?

  She lay her head on her pillow and tried to slow her racing heart. Sometimes she could not even breathe she was in such a panic about what would happen to her and her baby. Would she be forced to take the baby to the Foundling Hospital? To abandon all that was left of Calvin? How could she bear to do that? But how could she live with the baby? She would lose her position here, and who would hire a ladies’ maid with a bastard child?

  * * *

  Staines knocked on Amelie’s door and announced Miss Summerfield.

  ‘Hello, Miss Glenville!’ Miss Summerfield breezed in, taking off her hat as she walked in the room. ‘I am so delighted you are at home.’

  ‘Did you want to see Tess? Is she out?’ Amelie assumed that Tess was Miss Summerfield’s first choice to visit.

  ‘No!’ she said cheerfully. ‘I came to see you!’ She lowered herself into a nearby chair.

  By appearance Amelie and Miss Summerfield could be sisters, both blonde haired and blue-eyed. Genna was a bit taller and her figure more lithesome, but they looked more like each other than Miss Summerfield looked like her sisters. Amelie and Tess had accompanied her and Lady Tinmore to some society entertainments last Season, but Amelie still felt as though she hardly knew her.

  ‘How are you?’ Miss Summerfield gave her a significant look.

  She knew. Tess said she’d written to her sisters. Must Amelie talk about it to this young woman? She was nearly a stranger. ‘I am well, thank you. And you?’

  ‘Come now! None of that. You know I know my brother has got you with child. I cannot believe it of him, but there it is.’ She took a breath. ‘I came to let you know that I am an ally. I presumed you might need a friend at such a time.’

  Once Amelie would have melted with gratitude at such an invitation for friendship, but her trust was hard-won now. Even Tess could not be entirely trusted.

  She proceeded cautiously. ‘That is very kind of you, Miss Summerfield.’

  The young woman smiled. ‘Oh, call me Genna. We are so connected now through brothers and sisters that we might as well be sisters ourselves. Shall I call you Amelie?’

  ‘If you like.’

  Throughout most of Amelie’s growing up, including the very unhappy year she spent at school, others her age had stayed away from her. She was certain it was because of the stories about her mother—a commoner with family in France active in the Terror. Amelie’s mother and father thought she did not know of this, but there had been other girls only too eager to inform her precisely who her French relations were and where their names had appeared in old French newspapers.

  Only last spring, in her first Season, had Amelie thought she’d begun to make friends. When Fowler began courting her, she was certain she’d finally been accepted for herself.

  How foolish she’d been.

  The tea came and Miss Summerfield busied herself with the pouring of it. She handed Amelie a cup of tea and a biscuit. Amelie’s stomach roiled at the smell of the tea at first, but the sensation passed. She was grateful. She did not desire to vomit all over Edmund’s youngest sister.

  What errands kept Edmund away today? she wondered. Spending time with him these last few days had made her feel almost happy.

  ‘So.’ Genna took her first sip. ‘What are the wedding plans? Edmund has told us nothing about it.’

  Amelie glanced up at her. ‘You saw Edmund?’

  Genna nodded. ‘He called upon us this morning. Upon Lorene and me. Not Lord Tinmore.’ She spoke that man’s name with the same disdain as Tess and Marc always did. ‘But he would not tell us a thing. He came only to talk about money, the money Lord Tinmore gave him that he says he will give back.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘In any event, he did not stay long enough to tell us anything. I would love to help you with the wedding, you know. I could help you choose your bride clothes.’

  ‘Bride clothes?’ Amelie had not even thought of bride clothes. ‘I am sure I have some gown that will suit.’

  ‘Oh, no! You must have something new. A beautiful dress to be married in! Otherwise, people will think you do not care very much about marrying.’

  Amelie certainly wanted to minimise the gossip that would occur. Even so, purchasing a bride dress seemed very unimportant. Even her mother, who prided herself on being au courant in fashion, had not mentioned a dress. Who would know, after all? It was not likely anyone outside the family would attend the wedding.

  ‘Does not Tess have a maid who designs gowns?’ Genna asked. ‘Why not let her make you a bride dress?’

  ‘Nancy is now apprenticed to my mother’s modiste, Madame LeClaire,’ Amelie said.

  ‘Well, we should go there and have them make you a pretty dress!’ Genna clapped her hands together. ‘Shall we go tomorrow morning?’

  Edmund would be checking on the special licence then, he’d told her, but she did not want to provide even that much information to Genna.

  Amelie remembered Tess’s wedding, how Tess and Marc had gazed at each other, how beautiful Tess had appeared in the gown Nancy made for her. Amelie could not hope to receive a loving glance from Edmund, but she could at least try to look her best.

  ‘We can go to Madame LeClaire’s tomorrow,’ Amelie said.

  ‘Excellent!’ Genna jumped to her feet and gave Amelie a quick hug. ‘I am so delighted! I think someone in my family must treat you well, since my brother certainly did not.’

  ‘It was not your brother’s doing,’ Amelie said.

  Genna’s eyes grew wide. ‘Do you mean he is not the father?’

  ‘No. No.’ She meant only to defend him. She was to blame. ‘Edmund is the father, but it is not his fault about all this. It is mine.’

  Genna gave her the same look of scepticism that Tess had given her when she attempted to accept the blame for wh
at had happened between her and Edmund. ‘I am certain Edmund knew precisely what he was doing.’

  Amelie sighed.

  Something seemed to catch Genna’s eye and she rose to look out the window. ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘What is he doing here?’ Genna asked, but spoke to herself.

  ‘Who?’ Amelie asked.

  ‘Lord Tinmore.’

  Chapter Eight

  Edmund opened the sealed note that had been delivered to him early the next morning.

  An invitation.

  To dine at the home of Lord and Lady Northdon, Amelie’s parents.

  He blew out a breath. What had precipitated this?

  He supposed he owed them a visit to apprise them of the status of the special licence, although he would have told Amelie today when he saw her.

  He would attend, of course, even though Amelie’s was the only company he did not dread.

  He’d send a message accepting the invitation and then go to his bank to arrange his repayment to Tinmore.

  He wrote out his response and walked down to the hall to find a servant to arrange for its delivery.

  ‘Another message arrived for you,’ the man said.

  Edmund opened it.

  It was from Amelie, saying she would not be at home if he planned to call. Instead she would be at the dressmakers with his sister Genna.

  With Genna?

  * * *

  That evening Edmund started out early because waiting in his hotel room seemed a waste of time. He strolled down Bond Street, gazing in the shop windows and stopped in front of Trelegon & Co., Jewellers.

  Why not?

  He entered the shop.

  ‘May I be of assistance, sir?’ the clerk asked.

  ‘I am in need of a gift,’ Edmund said. ‘And a wedding ring.’

  * * *

  He left the shop twenty minutes later, now late for the dinner on Grosvenor Street. At least the package in his pocket made the delay worth it.

  He was admitted to the Northdon town house and announced by the butler, who had been attending the hall. He entered the drawing room, ready to make his apology for being late.

  Instead he stopped in his tracks.

  He’d not been told there would be guests.

  Lord Tinmore, Lorene and Genna were there, seated with Lord and Lady Northdon, Glenville, Tess and Amelie.

  ‘Well this is a surprise,’ he said without enthusiasm. He turned his gaze on Amelie, who was the only one in the room who did not look as if a snake had just slithered into the gathering.

  ‘How are you, Amelie?’ he asked.

  ‘I am well, Edmund.’

  But she was paler than the last time he’d seen her, when they’d walked through Bullock’s Egyptian Hall, gazing at the curiosities Captain Cook brought back from the South Seas and the displays of African beasts.

  Lord Tinmore waved his hand as if ordering Edmund to approach him. ‘I am certain you will agree that a family meeting was in order,’

  Edmund stood his ground. ‘I do not agree at all, but I see that is what has been manipulated.’

  Tinmore was behind this. Lord Northdon would certainly not have desired a family meeting.

  Amelie rose from her chair and walked over to a table with a wine decanter and glasses. ‘Shall I pour you some claret?’

  ‘Please,’ he responded.

  ‘What is the news of the special licence?’ Lord Northdon demanded as if Edmund had wilfully withheld that information.

  Edmund answered as civilly as he could muster. ‘I checked at Doctors’ Commons today, but there has been no word from my home parish as yet.’

  ‘And you simply left it at that?’ Tinmore sniffed. ‘A gentleman must be a man of action if he is worth any salt at all.’

  Amelie deserved to hear about the licence, and, Edmund supposed, her parents had a right to know, but it was none of Lord Tinmore’s affair.

  Edmund took a sip of his claret before facing Tinmore. ‘I am not quite certain where to locate the insult in your words, sir. Are you accusing me of not being a gentleman? Or of not being a man of action? Or, perhaps, you merely wish to make the point that I am not worth my salt.’

  ‘Impertinent puppy,’ Lord Tinmore grumbled.

  Edmund ignored him and spoke to Amelie as if only she were in the room. ‘I hired a man to go to my old parish to see about the delay.’

  A tense silence came over the room. Edmund did not care if his resentment of Tinmore was the cause. Except on Amelie’s behalf. She did not deserve this family meeting.

  Luckily the butler came to announce dinner.

  * * *

  Amelie expelled a relieved breath when Matheson announced dinner. How much ruder could these people be to Edmund? Her own family and his?

  No one had even greeted him.

  Her mother and Lord Tinmore led the procession to the dining room.

  What a disagreeable man Lord Tinmore was. He offered his arm to her mother without even looking at her. He’d not spoken more than two words to her. Her father escorted Lady Tinmore and Marc, Tess.

  Edmund glanced at both Amelie and Genna and offered them each an arm. ‘Ladies?’

  As they walked to the dining room, Genna spoke to Edmund in a low voice. ‘Don’t antagonise Tinmore. Let him think he’s ordering you around but then do whatever you like.’

  ‘Is that what you do, Genna?’ Edmund responded.

  ‘Yes. It is,’ she admitted.

  Amelie disagreed. She’d thought it rather admirable that Edmund had stood up to such a formidable man.

  In the dining room, her mother had deviated slightly from the standard tradition of seating everyone by precedence. She’d placed Lord Tinmore at her father’s right and Lady Tinmore at his left. Unfortunately Amelie was seated on the other side of Lord Tinmore. Edmund sat across from her between Lady Tinmore and Tess. Genna and Marc were on the same side of the table as Amelie.

  The deadly silence was broken by Lady Tinmore admiring the table setting. This led to a general discussion by the ladies of what was the latest fashion in dinner service.

  When the soup was served, Lord Tinmore took a loud sip that seemed to echo though the room. He conversed with her father exclusively, except for an occasional remark to his wife. Edmund attended to his food and nothing else.

  Amelie could not help looking at him. She could make the excuse that he was seated across from her, so she had little choice but to look at him, but to her he seemed the only important person in the room. Though he did not show any discomfort for it, she thought it shabby that he was not included in the conversation.

  Of course, she was not talking either.

  Genna finally turned to her. ‘What did you think of Nancy’s idea for a bride dress?’

  The two young women had spent the morning with fashion prints and fabric swatches. Tess’s former maid, now dressmaker, had taken over the design of the dress.

  ‘It was lovely, but I fear it would take too much time,’ Amelie replied.

  ‘Did Madame LeClaire approve of the design?’ Amelie’s mother asked.

  Madame LeClaire made all of Amelie’s mother’s gowns. In some ways she was the closest thing to a friend her mother possessed. They’d known each other as young girls in France.

  ‘She was impressed,’ Genna answered. ‘Nancy is so very talented. She designed the dresses Lorene and I are wearing tonight.’

  Marc asked questions about the apprenticeship agreement between Nancy and Madame LeClaire. More women were coming to Madame LeClaire’s for Nancy’s designs.

  ‘Has the business grown?’ he asked.

  ‘Madame is thinking of expanding to the house next door. They’ve hired new seamstres
ses and they are running out of space,’ Genna replied.

  Lord Tinmore raised his voice. ‘What is all this talk about dresses?’

  Tess replied, ‘Amelie and Genna visited Lady Northdon’s modiste. We were discussing her business.’

  Tinmore’s brows rose, and his tone turned indignant. ‘You were discussing trade?’

  Amelie shot a glance to her mother, who had been the daughter of a tradesman, a linen draper, one of the trades that supplied dressmakers. Her mother’s lips thinned, but she sat up straighter and lifted her chin. Amelie glanced to her father next. His eyes flashed with anger.

  Lady Tinmore tried to smooth over the moment. ‘Tess’s maid recently became a partner to Lady Northdon’s modiste.’

  Tinmore swung back to his wife. ‘Talking about servants? Not proper dinner conversation, my dear.’

  The room fell silent as the tension banked.

  Edmund took a sip of wine and set down his glass.

  ‘Well, it is a family party,’ he said, ever so casually. ‘Why should the family not discuss what interests them? Besides, to ladies, dressmaking is not simply a trade; it is a collection of other people whose lives they care about. Servants. Dressmakers. Seamstresses.’

  Amelie gaped at him. It struck her. Struck her. Like a lightning bolt from the sky, like an arrow piercing her heart.

  Edmund was unlike any man she’d ever known. He was strong. And kind. And stepped up to whatever situation was placed before him.

  No other man at the table confronted Lord Tinmore when he’d spoken so cruelly. Only Edmund. Edmund had defended all of the women at the table. Especially Amelie’s mother. Tinmore’s insult had been intended to hurt her, Amelie was convinced.

  Her heart beat faster. It was hard to breathe. Even harder to look at him now.

  But harder to look away.

  Lord Tinmore sputtered. ‘You dare to instruct the rest of us?’

  Edmund looked from one sister to another and smiled. ‘I come by my expertise honestly...by having grown up with three very excellent teachers!’

  He was glorious!

  Amelie glanced around the table. Did they not all think Edmund was magnificent? Their expressions looked strained.