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Authors: Eileen Putman

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"It
is one thing to defend one's home," she replied, "and quite another
to cross the seas to interfere with a tyrant whose overweening confidence would
have destroyed him eventually in any case."

This
time there was no mistaking the disapproval in his eyes. "Surely you do
not mock the sacrifice of thousands, madam." But though his words bore a
sting, they were delivered in such an expressionless voice Amanda was seized by
an urge to shake that implacable restraint.

"Not
at all, sir." For once Amanda was glad of her height, which made it easier
to stand up to Mr. Thornton's looming presence. "But I do not believe war
serves any end except the causes of those who decree it. And while the soldier
whose life is forfeit pays the price, the king and his minions see little
change in their comfortable existences."

A
silence ensued.

His
expression betrayed nothing of the distaste she suspected he must feel. He
merely studied her for a long moment. "There are those who would take such
talk as treason," he said in such a quiet and unemotional tone that he
might have made an idle comment about the weather.

"There
are those who dismiss any opposing view as treason," Amanda replied,
"though of course you are correct. Were I a man, I might have held forth
in the taverns and meeting places and stirred the people with my seditious talk
— and no doubt have been clapped in irons long ago. I suppose it is fortunate
that I am a woman."

His
brows rose. Oddly, they displayed no hint of the grey that had overtaken his
hair. Amanda flushed in sudden embarrassment. She had spoken these thoughts to
no one. Why had she blurted them out to a man who — given his employer — could
have no sympathy for such a position?

But
it was not his silent disapproval that made her uneasy. It was the clear gaze
that, without seeming to move at all, studied her from head to toe.

If
he was taking her measure as a female, he would find her wanting, of course.
Surely he would not be so rude as to mention that she was uncommonly tall for a
woman or that her features were not small and delicate like Felicity's. His
eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and Amanda grew warm under his inspection. For all
that he was old enough to be her father, Mr. Thornton did not possess a
particularly fatherly air.

Though
he made no comment, the prolonged silence between them was commentary enough.
Amanda supposed she ought to steer the conversation into more amiable channels.

"I
understand that we are to journey to Sommersby together," she said
politely, unable to bring herself to convey much enthusiasm over the prospect.

"It
is a pity that Lady Biddle will be unable to come," he replied, accepting
her change of subject with an equal lack of fervor, "but Sir Thomas
appears to have every faith in your skills as a chaperon."

Despite
his polite response, his cool tone suggested that he was wary of the
suitability for the task of someone as heretical as Amanda. Amanda decided that
anyone unwise enough to cross Mr. Thornton was to be pitied. On the other hand,
she thought irritably, who was this tall stranger to judge her convictions?  

"That
is because I am known to be incorrigibly practical, Mr. Thornton," she replied
evenly. "I am not one to be swayed by sentiment, nor do I scruple at
plainspeaking. Ideal qualities for a chaperon, do you not agree?"

He
did not reply.

"I
fear I will not be counted a lively addition to the earl's gathering," she
added, unable to keep a cross tone from her voice.

Something
volatile flickered in his eyes before vanishing. "On the contrary, Miss
Fitzhugh. A practical nature fares best at Sommersby Castle."

"Oh?"
Amanda eyed him curiously.

"The
castle is very old — rich with history, but plagued by a rather dark
reputation. I have spent only a little time there, but —”

"Come,
sir.
People
have reputations. Buildings merely have names," Amanda interjected.

He
did not rise to the bait.   "I merely suggest that Miss Biddle should be
prepared."

"For
what, pray? Is the place haunted?"

"Not
at all." There was not even a glimmer of humor in his eyes. "But the
castle is not in the best condition, and its reputation has made it difficult
to secure servants. It seems that over the centuries, the castle's dungeons
were responsible for a considerable decrease in the local population. Political
disputes, I understand."

Had
Mr. Thornton cast some sort of gauntlet before her?

"Fortunately,
dark reputations do not frighten me, nor do I believe in ghosts,” Amanda
replied. “To be sure, Miss Biddle has a rather more fertile imagination, but I
will be certain to keep her occupied with other matters. I trust the place is
not unsafe?"

"You
may count on the earl to see to your safety."

"I
do not believe that answered my question, sir." Amanda wondered how she
was going to stand two more minutes in this maddening man's company, much less
two weeks at Sommersby Castle.

At
that moment, Felicity returned with her shawl and insisted on taking the night
air, the rain having stopped. Reaching for her own shawl, Amanda buoyed her
spirits with the hope that Mr. Thornton would not find it necessary to remain
at the castle during the whole of their visit.

Eager
to take in the fresh scents of the newly dampened garden, Felicity moved
quickly out onto the terrace ahead of them, leaving Mr. Thornton little choice
but to offer his arm to Amanda. Amanda placed her hand lightly on his sleeve, and
was surprised at how solid and firm his arm felt. It was rather disconcerting
to feel such strength in a man of his years.

"Is
something wrong?" he asked.

Belatedly,
Amanda realized she was staring at his arm.

"Not
at all," she replied quickly. She allowed him to lead her toward the
terrace, and his hand briefly touched her back as he propelled her out the door
toward Felicity.

In
the heavy air, laden with the sweet smells of the garden made more pungent by
the recent shower, Amanda was rather acutely aware of his presence. She found
herself wondering exactly how many years Mr. Thornton had on his plate and why
a man of his age should provoke such a reaction.

Undoubtedly,
she had been away from Kent too long.

***

"Sommersby
will be the making of her." Lady Biddle sat forward to allow her husband
to plump her satin pillows, then reclined again and smiled. "I have never
met the earl, but one can only admire his accomplishments. Even Wellington has
published his praises far and wide."

Sir
Thomas studied his wife. Although she hated the fact that age had eroded the
graceful definition of her cheeks and jawline, he thought the pleasing
plumpness that time had lent her features softened what had been an
uncompromising sharpness. The flaming red hair that had driven him wild so many
years ago had acquired a silvery patina that in no way mitigated his passion.

But
as the years had left their unmistakable imprint on her once-fresh beauty, his
wife had become dispirited about the prospect of abandoning her youth and had
grown more and more remote. Perhaps the enforced separation they were about to
endure might serve to reawaken the spark between them. On the other hand, the
prospect of leaving his wife alone in the country for the Season was
disquieting. His recent business trips to London, though frequent, had been of
shorter duration.

"I
cannot help but wish you could accompany us," he said.

"Perish
the thought! Amanda will have things well in hand. I daresay my fall was a
blessing in disguise. Having fired off five daughters, I am entitled to this
little respite — though I shall miss the opportunity to see the famous
Sommersby Castle. A duke was murdered there, was he not?"

"A
king," he corrected. "With the connivance of the queen and her
lover."

Lady
Biddle's cornflower blue eyes grew dreamy. "How exciting. I would dearly
love to see the place. To think that Felicity is to be mistress there!"

Sir
Thomas gave an exasperated sigh. "Felicity's head is filled with
outlandish notions, Eloise. She needs a steady hand. You see how she has turned
away one suitor after another. With all that talk of warriors and heroes, I
despair of forcing her to see things sensibly."

"Then
it is fortunate that a true hero has fixed his interest on her," his wife
shot back. "I daresay Sommersby will not disappoint."

"No
man can live up to the unrealistic expectations of such slavish
adoration," Sir Thomas warned.

"Felicity
may have her flights of fancy,” Lady Biddle acknowledged, “but in time she will
come to appreciate the practicalities of running the earl’s household. She will
shine as a countess, I am quite certain."

“I
do not refer to those
practicalities, Eloise. I cannot help but wish that
Felicity had Amanda's sense to see a man for what he is, not what she wishes
him to be."

Lady
Biddle eyed him sharply. "Amanda did not always possess such wisdom, my
dear. Look what happened with Mr. LeFevre."

“She
was very young at the time."

"Two
years older than Felicity is now."

Sir
Thomas eyed her in consternation. "And yet, you are happy to put our
youngest daughter into her hands."

"Amanda
is beyond all that, Thomas. She is a spinster. The lesson she learned has
purged her of foolish notions. A woman does get to the point in life where a
pretty phrase and a devilish eye no longer turn her head."

"Does
she?" An odd light illuminated Sir Thomas's gaze.

"Of
course," Lady Biddle assured him. "And I have every faith in your
ability to manage the situation."

Sir
Thomas stroked his chin. "Just what do you plan to do with the time you
will have on your hands, Eloise?"

Lady
Biddle stretched languorously. "Oh, I shall do a bit of reading, perhaps
some gardening if my ankle can manage. And there will no doubt be callers to
help me while away the hours. Spring is a lovely time in the country."

A
shadow darkened her husband's features. "What I have always
believed," he said softly, "is that Spring is a time for
lovers."

Lady
Biddle closed her eyes, and her mouth curved into a smile. "Then Felicity
and Lord Sommersby shall do very well indeed."

***

By
all rights he should have been riding outside the carriage with Sir Thomas,
rather than sitting in the confines of a rattling coach with two chattering
women. Or rather, one chattering woman. Miss Fitzhugh could in no way be called
loquacious, having scarcely spoken to him all day. Miss Biddle, on the other
hand, had not ceased talking since they left Mayfield.

"You
must tell me more about Lord Sommersby," she pleaded. "I understand
that he single-handedly fought off an entire French battalion at Vitoria."

He
stared at her. "That is implausible. A battalion is a rather large number
of men."

Miss
Biddle regarded him with her enormous violet eyes. "But the earl is very
strong, is he not? And clever? Wellington said he is very clever. And fearless.
He is fearless, is he not, Mr. Thornton?"

More
than ever he wished to be riding outside with Sir Thomas. But his nag had not
been up to the task, and Sir Thomas had seemed happy to keep to his own
company, which is why Simon had to suffer Miss Biddle's relentless quest to
hear the Earl of Sommersby lauded like some Greek god. Even the slow and
cumbersome servants’ carriage, with its enormous number of trunks, would have
been preferable to his present situation.

"I
am afraid you have an inflated notion of the earl's accomplishments, Miss
Biddle," Simon said. "He served with Wellington in a number of
capacities but can in no way claim the accolades people would bestow upon him. ‘Tis
true that he fought at Waterloo, but at other times he was more of
a...messenger in disguise."

"A
messenger? Disguise?" Miss Biddle frowned, then her brow cleared.
"Oh, you mean a
spy
! Why, that is even more daring, is it
not?"

Gently,
Miss Fitzhugh touched her cousin's arm. "I believe we are becoming a trial
to Mr. Thornton. Perhaps we might speak of something else, dear."

Miss
Biddle smiled and glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Squinted,
actually. The poor girl obviously needed spectacles, though it was not
difficult to guess why she had not obtained them. He had to admit that Miss
Biddle possessed an unusual set of violet eyes. She had obviously put vanity
ahead of her eyesight. Ridiculous, to be sure, but what else could one expect
of the female sex?

Shifting
his long legs to the other side of the carriage, Simon was careful not to brush
the feet of the ladies sitting across from him. Like most women who possessed
only superficial understanding of the world, Miss Biddle had not the slightest
inkling of what it meant to daily risk one's neck, to engage in mortal combat
with a foe who had nothing to lose but a life that offered no great pleasure to
begin with. Miss Fitzhugh was a more sober sort, having lost a father to war
and fully comprehending the risks, but her loss had led her to ignorantly
condemn the cause for which her parent made his noble sacrifice. Did she think
that a man took lightly the decision to lay his life on the line?

BOOK: The Perfect Bride
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