To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood (Wicked Wagers 3) (17 page)

“So, you look like her. That doesn’t mean he’s not in love with you.”

She threw an accusing look over her shoulder. “He still has her portrait on his wall. In his study.”

“Oh.”

Amy flopped back on the bed. There was nothing more to say. “How am I going to get out of this marriage? Father will kill me if I rebuke Henry. The wedding’s in three days. The scandal will ruin me.”

Her sobs grew anew, almost blocking the sharp rap at her door. Lorraine hurried to answer it and soon was back at her bedside. “The earl is below demanding to see you.”

She rolled onto her back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I don’t want to see him. I can’t face him.”

“I’ll go.”

In abject misery, she watched her lady’s maid leave the room. She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. Sobs began anew. The pain was crippling. She was a fool to think Henry loved her. She had known when she heard him whisper Millicent’s name that his heart belonged to another. Why hadn’t she listened to her inner voice?
Because you love him so...
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she let them, too emotionally exhausted to care.

“She doesn’t wish to see you, Lord Cravenswood. I feel it best you leave.”

Amy’s maid, Lorraine, he remembered her name, looked at him coldly.

“I’m not leaving until I’ve explained.” He pushed past her. “Amy,” he yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Lorraine began pushing him toward the door. “This is doing neither of you any good. Come back in the morning when she’s had time to get over her hurt.”

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He’d hurt her. He hated to think of her upstairs, alone, hurting. “I have to go to her.”

“And say what? You’re sorry you kept a picture of another woman on your wall while professing to love Amy? You’re sorry you didn’t mention she looks like your last lover?”

Henry bit his cheek to stop from berating the woman defending Amy. “It’s not as it seems.”

Lorraine sighed and pushed him again toward the door. “It never is. Leave her be for now. I promise you, if you go up those stairs, you’ll make it worse. She’s too hurt to hear any pretty words you may say.”

Perhaps it was best to talk to her in the morning when hopefully she’d have had a chance to calm down. It would have been a shock to see Millie’s portrait. He inwardly cursed himself for not removing it sooner, but he’d simply forgotten it existed. He would have to put his faith in Amy. She loved him, and she must realize he’d not marry her if he loved another. They’d talked about their hopes and dreams. She’d heard him confess his dreams in his garden, night after night. She would understand.

He placed his hand on the doorframe, stopping Lorraine from pushing him out into the night. “There is no need for her to be upset. I love her. Will you tell her?
Please.
”

Lorraine stared into his eyes, trying to get the measure of him. He let her see deep into his heart. She hesitated before nodding. “I’ll tell her. Now go.”

“I’ll be here in the morning. No one will stop me from speaking with her then—no one.”

With that he turned and made his way back to Cravenswood house, fear gnawing at his insides. 

#

Henry was surprised when Caitlin paid him a visit early next morning—very early. She marched into his drawing room, removing her gloves, obviously upset. “What’s this I hear about a painting of Millicent?”

His face heated and he was less than a welcoming host. “How did you hear of the painting?”

“Our household staff knows each other almost as well as we do.”

He saw Timmons edging from the room. “I’ll fire the lot of them,” he yelled after his butler’s departing figure. “It’s a simple misunderstanding–an oversight on my part.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and took a seat. When he didn’t move, she said, “Well, aren’t you going to ring for tea?”

Feeling his temper rise, he replied politely, “This is a long visit, is it? As you may be aware, I have a fiancée that needs an explanation from me. Although how she can profess to love me while not trusting me is making me see her in an altogether different light.”

Timmons arrived with a tea tray without having to be asked, no doubt trying to appease his lordship. Silence reigned as, with a curt nod, Henry waited for her to pour.

“I really don’t understand why she’s so upset. It’s only a painting. A gift from Millicent I received a long time ago. I simply forgot it was there.” 

“You think this is about the painting?” Caitlin set her cup back on its saucer. “Don’t you look at me with that angelic face. Millicent looks very much like Amy. Even I assumed the worst when I realized you were infatuated with Amy. If Harlow hadn’t assured me you were completely over Millicent, I’d have told her myself.” She threw a look at him that would cause even the boxer Gentleman Jack to duck. “You should have told her. Immediately. What’s the poor girl to think?”

“She should have more faith in me. Love is built on trust. How can she profess to love me if she doesn’t trust me? Perhaps I’ve made a mistake.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s absolutely the perfect woman for you.”

All sense of propriety fled as his words, filled with pain, tumbled out. “She thinks I could make love to her while thinking of another, that’s how little she thinks of me.” 

Caitlin’s faced flush a lovely shade of pink. “I see. And men haven’t done precisely that before?” His stance remained ridged and he turned his back not eager for her to see his hurt. She sighed behind him. “A woman’s heart is as delicate as a rose. It doesn’t take much of a storm to come along and scattered the petals to the wind. You know how fragile Amy’s was. She’s never felt loved for her own sake. Not from her father, or brother, or anyone in her life. So I’m not surprised she has doubts. But the doubts are engrained deep inside her. It has little to do with her faith in you, and more to do with her faith in herself. Has she selected wisely? She watched her mother pine all her life.”

He sank down into the nearest chair. “I’m such a fool. I thought my love would be enough. You overcame Harlow’s past and mine’s not nearly as—robust–as his.”

“It may sound strange to you, but I’d have been more worried if Harlow, like you, had one woman he favored above all others. He simply had nameless, faceless many. You, however, had a mistress for a very long time. And you keep a picture of her on your wall. And she looks very much like your current fiancée.” 

Fear crept over his skin like an insidious smell. “What are you trying to say? Have I blown my chance at happiness?”

She shook her head. “No. I just think you’re expecting too much too soon. To keep the bud of love alive it takes more than a few weeks of courting. It takes a lifetime of patience, understanding, and commitment.” When he still did not answer, she said irritably, “Perhaps she’s right. You really don’t love her if you can give up at the first hurdle.”

“I know I should have taken Millicent’s portrait down eons ago, but if Amy’s my soul mate, why doesn’t she know I’d never willingly hurt her?”

“Soul mate? Oh, Henry. I hated Harlow at first sight. He might be my soul mate now, but I didn’t know that to begin with. In fact, I thought him an arrogant, conceited buffoon of a man when we first met. Like a well-worn pair of boots, you grow into love. It doesn’t happen to everyone the minute you meet. Especially women. We have to be more careful than men. The consequences for us, if we make a mistake, can destroy us, socially, financially, and emotionally. There is no way out.”

He raised hopeful eyes to Caitlin. “And because of Amy’s upbringing she’s even more careful.” She nodded. “What do you advise I do?”

Placing her tea on the table in front of her, Caitlin rose and walked to kiss his cheek. She stood looking down at him as she pulled on her gloves. “I wouldn’t go to her all, ‘oh I love you’, she’d be wary of that. I’d go in there as if she’s being ridiculous. Jar her out of her despondency. Make her angry enough to fight it out.”

Henry’s mouth dropped open. She pushed it closed with a gloved finger. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. If you act as if her portrait is nothing of consequence and you don’t understand what she’s fussing about, it will take the wind out of her sails.”

Seeing her off at the door, Henry said, “I hope you’re right. Without Amy, I’m lost.”

She kissed his cheek and whispered. “Then go find her.” 

Chapter Twelve

The next morning Amy refused to hide in her room. She rose earlier than normal, still tired from a sleepless night worrying about what she would say and do when she saw Henry.

When she arrived downstairs, she was surprised to find her father at the breakfast table so early in the morning. She chewed her bottom lip worrying about how her father would react if she wished to withdraw from her engagement.

Not really feeling up to facing food, she collected a scone from the sideboard and made her way to the table.

Her father’s voice startled her. “I heard about the ruckus last night. I hope the marriage is still going ahead.”

“Why am I not surprised you’d take that stance? You don’t even care. He’s in love with another woman. Just like you, Father.” She choked on her words. “I even look like her. At least you chose a wife who looked the complete opposite of Helen.”

“I didn’t know you’d met Helen,” he said quietly. 

She shrugged and poured a cup of tea. “I was on an outing with the Sothebys many years ago and I spied you and your
other
family in the crowd.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned to him. “For what?”

“For making a terrible mistake and marrying your mother when I did not love her. Plus for treating you as I have. Take your pick.”

Amy looked at her father suspiciously. “You. Apologizing? Are you ill?”

His apology was grudgingly given, like blood seeping out of stone. “It was not fair on her. However, I didn’t realize she loved me until after we married. I thought she viewed our arrangement as, well, just that—an arrangement. If I’d known of her feelings I would have married another. But most of all, I’m sorry that my guilt made me neglect you.”

Amy still bristled with anger. “Yes, well, I won’t make the same mistake. I refuse to marry a man in love with another.”

“I don’t believe he is.”

She gave a brittle laugh. “You’re saying that so I’ll still marry him. All you want is me off your hands.”

Her father looked at her solemnly. “You’re right. I did. When he came to ask for your hand, Henry tore a strip off me for it too. He showed me how selfish I was being. That if I wasn’t careful I would force you into the cold type of marriage I’d endured.” Her father shuddered. “I made the wrong choice many, many years ago and so many people suffered because of it. I won’t force you to make the same mistake. If you no longer wish to marry Lord Cravenswood, then I’ll ensure you don’t. Scandal or no scandal.” He gazed at her with sadness. “I’ll leave it up to you as to who and when you marry.”

Amy gulped back a sob. “You mean it? You’d support my ending the engagement. Did Henry put you up to this?”

“Yes. He threatened to ruin me. But give the man a chance to explain. I know you’ll probably think I have ulterior motives but I do want you to be happy. I’m telling you the man’s in love with you. The question is—what do you feel for him?” He rose and bent and kissed the top of her head. “I think you’re scared. Scared of making a mistake like your mother.” At her shocked gasp he smiled. “I don’t blame you.”

Amy sat sipping her tea and contemplated her father’s words. She was scared. She only had two days before she became tied to Henry for the rest of her life. If she wasn’t so in love with him, there’d be nothing to be afraid of.

The front door chimed, and this early Amy knew who the visitor would be. She’d barely had enough time to replace her tea cup on its saucer, straighten her gown, and run a hand over her hair before Henry entered the room.

He entered like a whirlwind, sending her senses into a spin. His beautiful face was hard and his eyes glinted like the fine steel of a blade. He didn’t appear to be a man about to drop on bended knee and apologize. 

“Good morning, Amy. I hope I find you in a more sensible mood than last night.” He stood before her, legs splayed and hands on his hips.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“The hysterics of last night. I do apologize for not having had the painting removed earlier. It is now in my attic, but there was no reason to run from my house like a burglar.”

She threw down her napkin. “This is not about a painting of Millicent being on your wall, and you know it.”

“How am I to know that? You didn’t stay around to talk. You simply listened to idle gossip, from a man such as Chesterton, and didn’t even have the courtesy to allow me to explain.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you know what Chesterton told me. What he implied.”

His hands dropped to his sides but he looked anything but contrite. “So, you look a bit like her”-

-“A
bit!
Can you honestly stand there and tell me that the fact I look like your past lover didn’t cross your mind at least once?”

He ran a hand through his hair and there was the first sign of a stammer, “I might have noted once to Harlow and Marcus that perhaps the reason I never originally considered you was because you reminded me of Millicent.”

“You discussed it with Harlow and Marcus. Ooohhh.” She stood so quickly the chair fell backwards. “You should have told me.”

“Why? It makes no difference to what I feel for you. If you remember, I pursued you before I even knew what you looked like. All I knew was you felt right in my arms.”

Amy searched his face. “But this is about more than lust or desire. This is about sharing the rest of our lives together.”

He strode toward her. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’ve searched endlessly for a woman who completes me. I thought I’d found her, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Not sure…” She turned away from him least he see her tears. “As it appears neither of us is sure, maybe this wedding shouldn’t take place.” If he gave up this easily, perhaps Henry didn’t love her as much as he thought. The reflection brought a sudden emptiness to Amy’s chest, as if her heart had stopped beating.