Will She Be Mine (3 page)

Chapter Five

When Angus interrupted him, Thaddeus was working—or rather
trying to work—among his specimens in the large conservatory he��d had built
upon the purchase of this house.

“The wee lass is here,” he said abruptly. “In the parlor.”

The news brought about a farcical reaction. Thaddeus dropped
his wooden dibber into the full watering can sitting on the floor at his side.
The water splashed up and splattered his trouser legs. He stepped back in
surprise and almost fell over a bench upon which reposed the flat of seedlings
he’d been transplanting. The seedlings tipped off and would have hit the floor
if not for Angus’ quick action.

“Get a hold of yourself, sir!” Angus said sharply. He placed
the seedlings somewhere safe. His master was numbly untying his apron.

“Here? Angus? Here?”

“Aye, sir.” Angus grabbed the apron before it landed on the
tiled floor.

“Where’s my coat? I can’t see her in my shirt sleeves
again!”

“I have it here,” Angus soothed. “I brought it from your
chamber before I came to fetch ye.”

“She shouldn’t have come here,” Thaddeus pronounced, shoving
one arm into the coat without rolling down his sleeve. The other went in
likewise. “The proprieties.”

“Och, ye need not concern yourself about those,” Angus
promised, smoothing the brown Manchester velvet jacket across his master’s
shoulders. “That battle-axe has come with her to maintain the proprieties.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Thaddeus confessed. He smoothed
his hair into place and stood for inspection. “How do I look?”

“Your boots, sir,” Angus pointed at the garden boots his
master preferred to wear in the conservatory while he worked. Grass-studded mud
freely covered the sides and soles.

“Bloody hell,” Thaddeus cursed, staring helplessly at the
boots. “Stocking feet would be better than these.”

“Oh, aye. But your Oxfords are jist over here,” Angus
pointed out, going to the spot where his master left his shoes when he changed
into his garden boots. A wooden chair waited nearby. “Sit yourself down and
I’ll change your boots.”

“Thank you, Angus. You are a godsend.”

“As ye’ve said afore.”

“Not often enough, I’m sure,” Thaddeus pressed, holding out
first one foot and then the other. His chest felt tight, yet excitement zinged
through him like a force of nature. She was in his house. In. His. House.
Oh
Lord,
he thought, closing his eyes and trying to remain calm. “Is she in
the front parlor?”

“As I’ve said.”

“Is Mrs. Wartle putting on the kettle? I’m sure she’d like
some tea.” Thaddeus thought for a moment, trusting that his henchman would know
that “she” meant Amelia and not the cook. “Do you think she’d like some
teacakes? Do we have any?”

“Cook has it in hand, sir,” Angus promised. He brushed his
own handkerchief across the surface of the black shoes before setting his
master’s feet on the floor. “There ye are, sir. Off with ye, now.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Thaddeus murmured. He rose so quickly
that he almost knocked Angus down. “Sorry.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” Amelia said wretchedly to
Mrs. Edley, who sat poker-straight in a chair beside the door, her arms folded.
“What was I thinking?”

“We can’t run off now, mum,” she pointed out sensibly.
“That’d look strange, it would.”

Amelia stood up and took a turn about the comfortably shabby
parlor. Though spotlessly clean, a few frayed bits humbled the once handsome
sofa. The faded chintz curtains needed replacing and one of the ladder-back chairs
required re-caning.

“I know,” Amelia murmured, pausing to rest her hand on the
dark marble mantel. The door opened at last and she stiffened. First her gaze
flew to meet her neighbor’s, then fell before his intensely pleased expression.

“Am—” He stopped when he noticed Mrs. Edley. He nodded to
her and then continued, “Miss Horton, what a delightful surprise.” He came
toward her with a light, quick step as if he couldn’t wait to be beside her.
“Did all go well with your new man of business? Did you discharge the oddly
named Mr. Shufflebottom?”

Amelia took the hand being held out to her and observed with
a stutter of her heart that he had handsome, long-fingered hands. They grasped
hers in a strong grip that unaccountably made her feel safe. She remembered the
kiss he had pressed to her hand just last evening and blushed shyly.

“I came to thank you, sir, for all your help,” she managed
while accepting his assistance onto the sofa.

“I’ll get you a cushion,” he murmured and collected two
comfortable ones and placed them behind her back. “There. That’s better, is it
not?”

“Why, yes,” Amelia admitted, amazed. He was so
matter-of-fact, as though having a pregnant unmarried woman in his front parlor
was an everyday occurrence.

“So, Farley came through for us, did he? I’m not surprised.
He is a man among men.”

“Indeed. Mr. Smith appears confident and somewhat cunning. I
believe he will look after my interests admirably.”

Thaddeus grinned and pulled a chair forward. Fortunately, he
noticed before he sat that it was the broken one. He looked at it for a moment,
then took it out of the room, encountering Angus in the corridor. His
manservant took the broken chair from him.

“The village fête, sir.”

“The fête?” Thaddeus felt foolishly blank.

“Invite the wee lass, sir,” Angus advised in a soft voice.
He set down the chair. “‘Tis this Saturday.”

“I know…I know… Do you think she might—?” Thaddeus paused,
stroking his waistcoat front in nervous thought.

“Are ye ashamed to be seen with her?” Angus’ soft accusation
caused his employer to stiffen.

“Certainly, not!”

“Ye’ll become a hero in her eyes, sir,” Angus promised,
nodding toward the mostly closed door.

Thaddeus followed his look and saw Mrs. Edley watching them
keenly, obviously overhearing every word. She nodded encouragement.

A surprised flush skated through Thaddeus. “Do you really
think so?”

“Oh, aye.”

Thaddeus, aglow with anticipation, repeated in a numb
whisper, “Oh, aye.”

“Off ye go, then,” Angus urged, shooing the younger man back
toward the parlor.

Thaddeus, returning to Amelia with his mind awhirl with
possibilities, struggled to remember their interrupted conversation. At last he
found the thread.

“All the best solicitors are,” he observed. Her look of
confusion caused him to add, “Cunning, I mean. The law can be tricky and we
need men of business who are awake upon every suit.”

“I agree. Mr. Smith handled Mr. Shufflebottom firmly and did
not back down even though Mr. Shufflebottom became quite nasty at the end. I
quaked in my seat, I assure you.”

“I’m certain you accounted yourself bravely,” Thaddeus
praised her.
She’s in my house. She’s in my house!

“No, not at all,” Amelia asserted. “If Mr. Smith had not
been there to support me I do believe I would not have been able to discharge
that bounder.” She clutched her hands together and looked away from his earnest
expression. “I did not want to disappoint you, either.”

“Amelia!” he exclaimed eagerly, moving to the edge of his
seat. But upon remembering Mrs. Edley, he looked over at her and discovered she
was busily examining the cornices as though she was working out how to build
and install them herself. He returned his gaze to his guest. “How pretty you
look today,” he praised her softly. Her countenance fairly glowed at that.
Before he could say more, however, the door opened and Angus came in bearing
the tea tray.

“Ah. Tea.” Thaddeus stood and pulled the small tea table
over between his chair and the sofa. Angus placed the tray on it and moved to
leave the room. Thaddeus began to pour out and thought he overheard Mrs. Edley
hiss at his manservant, “Thou great git! Couldn’t you’ve waited five more
minutes? I could strike thee!”

Amelia’s eyes met Thaddeus’ over the teacup rim and they
both had to purse their lips to keep from laughing out loud. Though the feeling
of intimacy remained, no further attempts were made to express anything more
personal. They spoke of polite social nothings. Acquaintances they had in
common—none. Places they’d both visited—he’d travelled extensively and she’d
been almost nowhere. What were Roman gardens like? Not as interesting as
Norwegian gardens. What made Norwegian gardens so fascinating? And so forth
until the tea had been drunk and all the teacakes consumed.

“Goodness,” Amelia said, jumping a little when the casement
clock in the hall sounded. “How the time has flown!”

“Yes.” Thaddeus wished the damn clock in Jericho. She was
going to leave. With desperate hope, he asked, “Perhaps you’d like to see my
specimens before you depart?”

Amelia smiled and shook her head. “I really must go.” His expression
remained kindly but she could see his disappointment and it thrilled her.
“Perhaps another time?”

“Indeed, yes,” Thaddeus agreed readily. He moved to her side
and solicitously helped her to rise. “The next time you visit, we’ll find you a
firmer seat. My sisters have told me that this sofa is the devil to get out of
once they’ve reached six months.”

“It is, a bit,” she confessed, reluctantly withdrawing her
hand from his, and welcoming the ease with which he could discuss what so many
others refused to even see.

Mrs. Edley opened the parlor door, breaking the spell
between them. When they all reached the front door, which Angus held open,
Amelia extended her hand to her host. He took hold of it and held it firmly
between his palms. He gazed down at her as if she alone could make him happy
and Amelia wanted to gasp aloud in reaction.

“Miss Horton.”

They studiously ignored their chaperones, who were doing
their best to fade into the walls anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Milborough?”

Thaddeus took a deep breath and then burst out, “Would you
do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the village fête this
Saturday?”

“Oh,” Amelia said in surprise.

When she said “Oh,” again, Thaddeus was certain a refusal
was imminent. His stomach twisted into a knot and then miraculously unraveled
as soon as she beamed at him.

“Mr. Milborough, it would be my pleasure.”

He watched a pretty blush color her cheeks. “Will eleven
o’clock be a good time for us to set off?”

“Yes. Yes, thank you,” she murmured.

Chapter Six

Amelia wore her favorite blue gown for the fête. Though, in
truth, she wore her favorite gown for Thaddeus. She loved the tiny yellow dots
she’d embroidered across the bodice. She waited in the entrance hall, perched
on the very edge of a straight-backed chair, wearing a straw bonnet trimmed
with a blue ribbon. A buttery-yellow cashmere shawl was draped across her
shoulders and over her elbows. A small handbag in the new style, of soft kid,
dyed blue, dangled from her wrist.

She felt strange, all dressed up and waiting for a
personable gentleman to arrive just as if she were still an innocent maiden
going courting. Strange, but excited and also somewhat apprehensive. What would
their neighbors think of her attending the fête with Thaddeus? She feared they
would be shocked. Very shocked indeed.

Mrs. Edley came through from the kitchen carrying a large
basket whose contents were hidden beneath a pristine white linen cloth. Amelia
raised her eyebrows.

“It’s my lemon curd, mum. And my famous Yorkshire barmbrack.
I’m aiming to win a prize this year. Mrs. Wartle can’t win every year.”

“Both the curd and the fruit cake are delicious. I do not
know how the judges can fail to award you first place.”

“If it’s the same gormless lumps judging as last year,
anything’s possible.”

Amelia hid a smile behind her gloved hand.

A firm knock sounded.

“About bloody time,” Mrs. Edley muttered, forgetting
herself. She opened the door and dropped a curtsy for their neighbor. “Mr.
Milborough. Miss Amelia is ready.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Mrs. Edley.”

Amelia came around the door and gave a slight curtsy while
gifting Thaddeus with a soft smile. She thought he looked very nice in his dark
brown coat over a green paisley waistcoat. His tan trousers were long and
strapped beneath his black, square-toed shoes. He seemed to prefer a softly
styled cravat, for today he wore the bronze length of silk tied in his usual
Byron knot. He grinned at her and held out his hand. She shook it but when she
would have pulled back he urged her forward, drawing her hand through the crook
of his arm.

“Good morning,” Thaddeus murmured. A gleeful note
underscored his simple words because, within, his entire being was dancing a
jig.
Amelia and I are going to the fête
, his inner voice sang. Like a
child before Christmas, he had barely been able to sleep the night before.
“It’s a beautiful day for a fair and you look very pretty.”

“Thank you,” she replied, blushing.

“And you are wearing my favorite color too,” he added,
leading her down the path to the road. Mrs. Edley brought up the rear.

When they entered the lane, Angus joined them. He walked
beside the housekeeper. They exchanged knowing glances. But their
conspiratorial looks soon changed to glowers as they watched the expressions on
the faces of their other neighbors, who were also making their way to the
church. Shock and indignation warred with incredulity for place of honor. The
two faithful servants heard the titters and it soon became apparent to them
that the sensitive Miss Amelia heard them too.

Amelia’s footsteps lagged. Humiliation ground through her.
She’d been a fool to accept Thaddeus’ invitation. Their own neighbors did not
even acknowledge her with simple nods. How could they expect the remaining
villagers to accept them? Mortified, Amelia wanted to find a nearby bush and
crawl underneath it like a rolled-up hedgehog. What sweet, incredible madness
had driven her to subject herself, and Thaddeus too, to their community’s
criticism? He didn’t deserve this. He was much too fine a gentleman to
acknowledge that he had made a mistake in asking her. She must save him from
his noble principles. However, before she could open her mouth to speak, he
did.

“Miss Horton. I am walking too fast for you. I do apologize
and can only offer as an excuse that my feelings of exquisite pleasure in your
company momentarily distracted me from your comfort.” Flushed with his own
eloquence, Thaddeus directed her over beneath a towering maple where a cast
iron bench awaited the weary. “Please, sit and rest a moment before we proceed.
Truly, if necessary, Angus can return with the Tilbury and we can ride the
remaining distance.”

“I am not tired, Mr. Milborough,” Amelia assured him, though
her heavy tone belied her words and he frowned at her. She looked up and
yielded to his entreaty to rest. “Mrs. Edley must walk on. I do not want her to
miss her chance to win first prize in any baking contests. I would appreciate
the courtesy, however, if Mr. McLeod would stay on to maintain the
proprieties.”

“Of course.” Thaddeus moved off to give direction to their
servants.

“The wee lass is not tired, sir,” Angus whispered after they
watched Mrs. Edley move briskly off toward the green. “She works in the garden
most days for long hours. She’ll not be tired after a few minutes’ walk.”

Thaddeus tore his eyes from Amelia’s pale countenance and
concentrated on his manservant. Angus looked pointedly at the few straggling
neighbors who hastily looked away without touching their hats or nodding their
heads or smiling or lifting a finger or in any way acknowledging their
presence.

The cut indirect.

Anger erupted to life in Thaddeus’ spleen. Seldom had he
wanted to wreak vengeance on his fellow human beings but today he might make an
exception. How any of these sanctimonious prigs could knowingly upset as sweet
a woman as he could ever hope to hold in his arms made him want to… Well, he
did not know quite what he wanted to do, but he wanted to do something. His
blazing scrutiny alighted on the Misses White, who strolled behind the rest.

“We’ll just see,” Thaddeus uttered in a low forceful voice.
Plastering a welcoming smile on his face, he approached the two spinsters.
“Ladies,” he said, bowing to them.

They drew up short, unable to ignore him and unwilling to
give him the cut direct. Not that ignoring him held any attraction for these
two women who knew themselves to be societal leaders in Hinderwell. They too
had seen the behavior of their neighbors and their hackles had risen. What
right did these nobodies have to censure Miss Horton and Mr. Milborough’s
behavior? Evidently, he wished to make it known that he was courting Miss
Horton. They would otherwise not be openly attending the fête together. An
unmarried woman in a delicate state was to be deplored, but efforts to get her
married were to be applauded and assisted by any appropriate means.

“Mr. Milborough,” the ladies chorused. They inclined their
heads graciously. “We see that you are escorting Miss Horton to the fête?” Miss
Ann continued.

“I am. I saw you both and hoped that you would do us the
honor of accompanying us to the church green.”

Stiffly, Miss Sadie said, “We would be delighted.”

Thaddeus did not think they looked delighted, but they
looked determined and he could accept that gratefully. He guided the two
sisters to the bench. Amelia’s eyes shone with pain as she looked from him to
the Misses White and his heart ached as he realized she thought he was
deliberately subjecting her to further scorn. He gave her an encouraging smile.

“Miss Horton, look who I have come upon—Miss Sadie and Miss
Ann. Without an escort.” Thaddeus held out a hand to assist Amelia in rising,
which she accepted.
Thank you, God
, he thought, having feared that in
her anger she would refuse his assistance. When she would have pulled away, he
once again tucked her hand within the crook of his arm. She nodded at the
spinsters. “Self, I said, this will not do,” Thaddeus continued. “I know that
you will be as pleased as I, my dear Miss Horton, that they agreed to accept us
as companions of the road.”

“They are kindness itself,” Amelia murmured graciously. She
squeezed Thaddeus’ arm in apology for having thought him insensitive.

He patted her hand before offering his other to Miss Sadie.
Miss Ann, instead of taking her sister’s arm, moved to Amelia’s side.

“May I take your other arm, Miss Horton?” she enquired and
lifted an imperious eyebrow. “The heat is rather too much this morning.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Amelia said, offering her elbow. She
tried to withdraw her arm from Thaddeus. “Perhaps it would be better if we
walked behind. Four abreast is an awkward arrangement.”

“There is plenty of room,” Thaddeus insisted.
I must send
a dozen of my best roses to the dears
, he thought.

“Certainly there is,” Miss Sadie agreed, nodding firmly. She
waved her open parasol down the lane. “Shall we? I’m parched and I’d like some
lemonade.”

“I shall fetch you all some the moment we arrive,” Thaddeus
promised. He wanted to kiss the quarrelsome old cat. He’d squeeze the lemons
himself if necessary. Their public acceptance of Amelia and, by default, his courtship
of her, would cause a stir. But he knew that their approval of the match would
lead others to accept it as well. Now all he had to do was convince Amelia.