The Regency Season Collection: Part Two. Кэрол Мортимер

Cameron privately about the man tomorrow.

      A log dropped in the fire and a shower of sparks lit the grate. Home and hearth.

      ‘I want you to know that I would not have married you just for the money.’ He dredged up the rest. ‘I married you because I liked you.’

      This time her smile was real, no pretence in it or anger.

      ‘And perhaps I like you back, Lord Montcliffe.’

      ‘A good start then?’

      She nodded and in her eyes was the swell of decision. ‘Gerald Whitely was not the man I thought him to be and my mistakes have made me wary.’

      He could see what this admission had cost her by the quickened blood pulsing at her throat.

      ‘He came to us as a clerk who was recommended by a friend of my father’s. Papa liked him at first, but then he tried to dissuade me from taking the relationship further. I wanted love in a marriage and permanence.’

      ‘But you did not get it?’

      ‘No.’ The violent loss in her eyes darkened them, so that they were almost black in the shadows of the room. There could be no mistaking the hatred lurking at the edges, either.

      What the hell had Whitely done to her?

      ‘At La Corunna I realised fate could be cheated because I should have died there with a bullet through my thigh and the blood running out of me in a stream, but I didn’t. Ever since I have been of the opinion that we each have the choice to worry about what has come before or to forget it.’

      A frown marred her brow. ‘What of the pain in your leg—does that allow you to forget?’

      Her intent told him the question was important and so he took his time in answering.

      ‘Sometimes it does not. In the cold of winter, on the dance floor, after a ride of some distance, at these times I remember. But here with you, in a warm room and on my wedding night, it ceases to demand a constant attention and so the ache itself is lessened.’ He stopped for a moment, considering his words. ‘You are safe here, Amethyst. I would not ask from you anything you did not wish to give. At least be assured of that.’

      Her half-smile wound about the corners of his heart. ‘Gerald said that to me, too, and I was foolish enough to believe it.’

      And then she was gone, turning for the door and running, the skirt of her riding outfit swishing as she went.

      * * *

      She sat as still as she could and listened. To her heartbeat, to her breathing, to the small sound of her hand as it moved against the silk counterpane.

      For so long she had felt...sad. Her father had known of it, but he didn’t understand the truth of why. Nobody did. Yet tonight with Daniel Wylde in a room of books and honesty something had changed, some hard part of guilt, leaving room instead for the fluid movement of truth.

      She had told him some of it. Just a little, but enough. He could make of it what he would. She knew he had seen the hatred for Gerald in her eyes that could not be hidden, though she wondered about the shame. Had that remained concealed? She hoped so.

      Standing, Amethyst walked across to the full-length mirror and simply looked at herself. Against the dark riding clothes her hair caught the light from the candle in a way that surprised her. She almost looked pretty. She had not thought that of herself before, but tonight she did. Perhaps that came from Daniel’s kiss. For so long she had been this other woman, frightened by life and lost in her work.

      Joyless. Her father had said that about her when he had insisted on this marriage and all its agreements. ‘You used to be happier, Amy. You used to know how to laugh. Now you seem only joyless.’

      ‘Gerald.’

      She whispered the name into the night. He had taken that part of her that believed in love and possibility and twisted all she had been into who she was now. Daniel had told her the past was gone and could not creep into the present unless you let it. She liked that about him.

      ‘I am enough,’ she said, suddenly surprised by how fervently she meant it. ‘And my husband enjoys kissing me.’

      A power, that, given without the knowledge of what had been taken from her. She held on to his words with hope.

      A noise in the room next to hers alerted her to the fact that he had come up to bed and she crossed to the doorway so that she might better hear his movements.

      Her eyes went to the key on her side of the portal. If she turned it so that it was unlocked, would he take that as an invitation and come in so that they might talk more? Clasping her fingers tightly together in case she should actually go ahead and do it, Amethyst waited till any noise stilled and then she crept most quietly to her own bed.

      * * *

      The early part of the next morning brought Daniel’s sister Gwendolyn into her room, the girl’s face uncertain and contrite.

      ‘I hope this is not an intrusion, Lady Montcliffe, but I was wondering if you might have a moment to speak with me?’

      Amethyst put down the book she was reading and gestured to a chair beside her. Gwendolyn’s dress had been cleaned and pressed, a small tear in the fullness of her skirt artfully repaired.

      ‘I have come to say thank you for your help yesterday in recovering Caroline.’

      ‘You are most welcome.’ Amethyst knew there was more to come by the look of intrigue on the younger girl’s face.

      ‘Caro said that you wielded a knife. She said that you knew how to use it, too. She told me I was not to tell anyone at all about such a fact and especially not our mother, but...’ She stopped and looked uncertain about how to proceed.

      ‘You have questions?’

      ‘Mama is always telling us that we should be docile and sweet and that embroidery and tapestry and reading are the kind of things a husband will be looking for in a marriage. But our brother has been pursued by women for years and years and he did not choose someone like that at all...’ The rambling came to a stop as the girl realised what she was saying.

      Amethyst picked her words carefully. ‘Our marriage might have been a little different from others, Gwendolyn, but I would say to you to be honest to yourself. Be the person you wish to become and follow the interests you want to pursue. Only then will you find a husband who will truly suit you.’

      ‘I love riding and horses and if I could I would live in the country. Mama and Caroline are more interested in gowns and boots and bonnets.’ She hesitated before carrying on. ‘Are things like fashion and hairstyles important to you, Lady Montcliffe?’

      Despite herself Amethyst laughed. ‘Not especially. I have only ever had a few gowns at a time and my hair is much too short to do a lot with. From what I can see society seems to dedicate a great amount of time to what one looks like, but I was always too busy helping my father balance books and sourcing timber to care.’

      ‘But you are rich? Richer than anyone else we know?’ Gwen’s blue eyes flashed fiercely. ‘Mama says you come from trade, but it seems to me that you know a lot more than I ever will. You are free to learn things, different things, and in the end you still get to marry an Earl.’

      Amethyst did not know whether to tell her of the nature of their union, but then decided against it, choosing to let Daniel’s sister see the possibilities before her and not the problems.

      ‘If you would like to come up to Montcliffe Manor to stay with us for a while, you would be most welcome. We could ride together and you could show me the places you liked as a girl when you were here.’

      A heavy frown settled across the young brow.

      ‘We did not come here much because Mama never enjoyed it and after Papa died in a riding accident my mother never wanted to stay at Montcliffe Manor.’

      ‘Then