Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4) Page 10

  “Not a failure, Father. You merely found different ways a marriage wouldn’t work.”

  “Thanks for that. I think you may be giving me deferential treatment due to my age,” he joked with sudden lifted spirits.

  “Well then. Go give it some stick. You’re not getting any younger, as you say,” Edward replied with a laugh.

  Cornelius laughed too. “I feel rather odd courting at this time in my life.”

  “You deserve happiness too,” Edward reminded him. “And if you want to live out the remainder of your life with a good woman by your side, why shouldn’t you have that option? If you won’t chase her, you’ll never know.”

  “When did you grow so wise?”

  “I’ve learned from the best.” The grin he flashed brimmed with confidence and youth.

  Pride swelled Cornelius’ chest. “That you did.” Everything was finally aligning in both his relationship with his son and with Amelia. Perhaps the house party wasn’t that horrid after all. “Come down to breakfast with me. You can tell me what you’ve been up to since we arrived, and you can say if you have an interest in any of the young ladies.”

  Remarkably, a fierce flush raged over Edward’s face. “I think at this point, I’m going to keep a few secrets of my own.”

  “Indulge me anyway.” Cornelius grabbed a waistcoat from the foot of his bed. For the first time in a long while, he felt optimistic. “If nothing else, Lady Amelia’s staff doesn’t skimp on the breakfast foods, and I know how much you can eat.”

  “And if your lady is already in attendance?”

  Cornelius snickered. “You can see for yourself how wonderful she is. Vet her for me, as it were.”

  “You’re impossible, Father,” Edward grumbled but he rooted around in the clothes press for a shirt.

  “No, let’s say I’m hopeful and leave it at that.”

  Quite by accident, Cornelius ran into Charles in the library of all places some time after luncheon. It was obvious the man hadn’t been reading. In fact, Cornelius had woken him from where he lounged on a low sofa near the fireplace.

  “Bloody hell,” Charles groused, blinking. “Don’t tell me it’s time for dinner already.” He rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “There’s literally nothing of interest at this damned house party.”

  “It’s not. Relax.” Cornelius dumped his friend’s booted feet off the sofa cushions. “Get up, you laze about. What are you doing in here anyway?” He glanced about the large room. Shelves lined the walls. Books of all sorts and genres filled those shelves. Would that he had the time to browse. Yet, the object of his quest—Amelia—was nowhere to be found. He’d hunted the house for an hour without success.

  “Trying to stay away from Lady Eaton. The woman is a trial, and since she failed to get her hooks into you, she’s after me.”

  “Honestly, you could do worse.”

  Charles eyed him askance. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mind finding a secluded spot for a bit of slap and tickle, and she’s experienced, but I rather doubt she’s marriage material, even if she’s put forth that hint.”

  “You might be right.” Cornelius restrained the urge to laugh at his friend’s predicament. “By the by, where is your cousin? Surely she can match you with a lady more appropriate for the countess position than the widow.”

  “God, spare me your advice.” Charles rolled his eyes as he sat up. “I am not looking for a countess.”

  “Then give your title the full attention it deserves.” He shrugged. “That’s all Amelia wants from you... right now.”

  “I’d rather spend the coin in London instead.” Charles yawned so wide his jaws cracked. “The last thing I want is to rusticate here. Of course, if Amelia consented to remain, that might change my mind, but you and I both know she’s been restless of late.”

  “Has she?” Cornelius didn’t wish to portray a more intimate knowledge to his best friend.

  “She acts as if she’s distracted, driven, perhaps a bit obsessed.” Charles shrugged. “It matters not. I’m not fit for responsibility.”

  “Yet you don’t have that luxury. I hate to tell you but it’s time you matured.”

  “Do shut up, old chap.” Charles shook his head. “Perhaps I’ll continue to let Amelia run this pile. She’s done well so far. And if she enjoys it, why not?”

  “Have you talked with her about it?” Annoyance prickled along Cornelius’ skin. He didn’t like her being used as a scapegoat for Charles’ irresponsible behavior. “No doubt she has other plans for her life, and well she should.” Again, he looked around. “Where did you say she was?” Damn, but he was in danger of making a cake of himself, for all he wished was to be in her company.

  “I don’t know. Do I look like her secretary?” A whine had set up in Charles’ voice. “I believe she had ice skating and sledding on the agenda for this afternoon.”

  “You didn’t feel like joining?” Really, the man’s attitude was beginning to be off-putting.

  “In the cold and risk scuffing my boots?” Charles sighed. “No thank you.” He shrugged. “I’ll do the pretty with Amelia later tonight. She’ll forgive me. She always does.” He frowned. “Why are you not with the party?”

  “I’d rather not show myself outside and put everyone else into jeopardy.”

  “What gammon is this? Say you’re miserable, and lame, and be done with it.”

  Cornelius heaved a sigh. The incident with the arrows seemed years ago for all that had occurred in the meanwhile. “Keep this to yourself.” When his friend nodded, he continued. “Yesterday, there was an attempt on my life.”

  “Are you in your cups?” Charles gawked at him.

  “No. You know I seldom indulge.” Though his headache had faded from this morning from his indulgence the night before. Quickly, he told his friend about the arrows and his subsequent chase that yielded nothing.

  “So, because of that, you think someone wants you dead?” Doubt rang in Charles’ tones. “To what purpose?”

  Cornelius shrugged. “Who knows? I worked long years at inconveniencing many influential men from all sorts of governments and backgrounds.”

  “But you’ve resigned.” Charles’ eyes narrowed.

  “I have, so I’m more vulnerable. I don’t want anyone else to come to harm because of me.” He stared at the fire. “Amelia was walking with me yesterday when the attack occurred.”

  “Damnation,” Charles breathed. “I’ll wager that didn’t help her attitude toward you.” A trace of amusement wove through the words.

  “At the time, it did not.” Heat went through his nape. “Now I believe we are on better footing.”

  “Oh? How so?” Interest flickered in the other man’s eyes. “Do you continue to harbor that old tendre?”

  “In fact, yes.” What was the harm in admitting it to his best friend? “I told her yesterday evening that I intend to court her. And if we don’t suit after Twelfth Night, neither of us will cry foul. We will remain friends.” But he had to land her first and convince her he was a safe choice. The only choice.

  That threat on his life wouldn’t help his cause, though.

  “I see.” Charles heaved himself to his feet. His clothing showed evidence that he’d slept for a few hours. “What did she say?”

  “She told me she wouldn’t marry again.”

  “You don’t care about that, do you? Thus, you’ll bedevil her.” A growl had set up in Charles’ voice. Why?

  “I care for Amelia’s well-being. If she feels that way after the Christmastide season, I’ll respect her decision.” Cornelius stepped closer to his friend. “But I relish the challenges, for Amelia is more than worth them.”

  “On that I’ll agree with you.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Peter wouldn’t like you ignoring your duty, Charles. His death changed us, made all of us mature before we were ready, but you must. It’s time, and Amelia needs the freedom to step away from Trenton Hall if she wishes.”

  For one seco
nd fear lined Charles’ expression, gone in a heartbeat. He met Cornelius’ eyes. “I am nothing without her,” he finally said, and honesty shone in his gaze.

  “Then start showing her you’re more than the frivolous lord she thinks. Enjoy your time here, but once Twelfth Night ends, you need to change.” He gripped his friend’s shoulder and nodded. “We all have to at some point, and isn’t it better to change for the good?”

  A sigh escaped Charles. “Why can’t everything stay the same? I like it this way. With Amelia always about, ordering me and badgering me.”

  “We’re meant to grow, my friend. We can’t dwell in the maudlin past and keep hoping for a different outcome. There is none, and there is no hope in the past.”

  “Thank you for that.” Charles pulled away and moved toward the fireplace. “I’ll vow to do better.”

  “That’s all any of us can do.” Cornelius strode in the direction of the door. The tip of his cane thumped against the hardwood floor. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and meet Amelia as she comes in. Perhaps a man bearing a warm cup of tea will make a favorable impression.”

  “Good luck, old chap,” Charles called but he didn’t move.

  “Thank you.” The tide had turned in his relationship with her; he was certain of it.

  It was all a matter of patience and charm now.

  Chapter Ten

  December 24, 1818

  Amelia smiled as the young men jockeyed and competed with the older males from the party while they gathered Christmas greenery. Alternately, the ladies of all ages tittered and taunted the men of their choice. Gay banter rang out through the frosty woods. The result of such high spirits was a large pile of fir boughs and a much smaller one of mistletoe.

  She looked at the green leaves of the mistletoe with its small red berries, and her smile widened. How scandalous such a plant was, if used in the right way with the right man. A tiny sigh escaped her. The last time she’d been kissed beneath mistletoe was by Cornelius during that fateful house party...

  “You should do that more often.” Speak of the devil. The marquess came abreast of her, and the deep rumble of his voice never failed to awake butterflies in her belly.

  “Do what?” The white puffs of her breath served as a reminder that it was winter and chilly, but with him, being cold was the last thing on her mind.

  Yesterday, she’d purposefully avoided him as much as she could. After all, what was there to say? Thank him for servicing her the night before when she’d more or less thrown herself at him? Tell him that he hadn’t lost his skill in lovemaking? That, in fact, he’d been even better than their last time together? Heat rolled over her person and left awareness dancing over her skin at the remembrance.

  Allowing the intimacy—rushed and frantic as it had been—had been cathartic. The jumbled tangle of emotions that always swirled through her were now sorted and... quiet. No longer were they uppermost in her mind.

  But that only brought confusion in their wake. How could one man soothe that which had haunted her for years?

  “Smile.” His response to her question yanked Amelia from her thoughts. He leaned into her space. A hint of pine and the air before it snowed wafted to her nostrils. “It transforms you into an angelic vision.”

  “Such gammon you speak, Lord Winchester.” She ignored him as best she could, but his large presence beside her worked at seeing her undone.

  I meant what I said to him. She wouldn’t marry again, especially if he’d brought trouble to Trenton Park. A life constantly riddled with anxiety regarding her safety and his couldn’t be imagined.

  “I am always truthful. Well, as much as I can be, and I never say what I don’t mean.” He stood there, gloved hands clasped behind his back while watching the antics of his son, who was one of the tree climbers. “Today is my fortieth birthday.” So much dread clung to his voice that she couldn’t help but glance at him. Shadows clouded those blue-gray eyes that had the power to pull her under.

  “I know.” She also knew he was determined in his intention to court her, regardless that she wanted to keep him at arm’s length. A tiny shiver of delight moved down her spine at the thought. Her last two marriages didn’t come with courtship periods due to the nature of the military and the obligations therein. “I wish you many happy returns of the day.”

  A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and she couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. What she wouldn’t give for another taste of him. “Thank you.”

  Amelia nodded. It was sheer folly to think anything at all about him, so she returned her attention to the young men in the trees. Specifically, to Cornelius’ son. If their child had lived, he would have been thirteen years old this year. The doctor had told her its sex when she’d miscarried, and for the rest of her life she would mourn the babe’s tiny little soul.

  If Cornelius hadn’t been a spy, they would even now have mostly likely been married.

  If fate hadn’t been so cruel, things might have come about differently...

  They could pick up where they’d left off, except for the secret of the baby she kept from him...

  She stifled the sob welling in her throat. After all these years, those thoughts had the power to lay her low and flood her with emotion. There was no escape.

  Cornelius nudged her arm until she met his gaze once more. “I’ve been told I’m quite charming.”

  “Oh?” Perhaps she’d let him cajole her into a better mood. But she wouldn’t feed his ego.

  “Indeed.” Humor glinted in his eyes. Gone were the shadows of before. From a pocket of his greatcoat, he procured a sprig of mistletoe and held it up. “Since it is my special day, I should do something fun.” He winked, and a butterfly ballet began in her lower belly. “Will you give me a kiss to start?”

  “This is hardly a private venue,” she protested, but there wasn’t much strength behind it.

  “All right. I’ll settle for a peck on the cheek then.” The dratted man dropped his voice. “And perhaps later I’ll angle for a proper kiss.”

  Pleasure shot through her entire being, from the roots of her hair to her toes. Why couldn’t she manage to break the connection between them? With no answers and heat raging in her face, she nodded. “Very well. Since it is your birthday.” Amelia stepped close to him, raised up on her tiptoes and then bussed his cheek. When she pulled away, it was with regret, for he smelled so good and his broad shoulders looked so inviting.

  “Ah, nothing has ever been so sweet,” he whispered as he tucked the mistletoe sprig over her left ear. “As a reminder for later.”

  Oh, consigning him to a safe distance would prove a challenge, for she couldn’t resist him in any capacity. “Off with you, now. Go find your entertainment for your birthday.” When she would have waved him off, he caught her gloved hand. Heat traveled up her arm from the point of contact. “What are you doing?”

  “Securing your company for the afternoon.” His breath clouded in the cold to mingle with hers. He bent his head close, his lips almost brushing the shell of her ear. “Since I missed ice skating yesterday out of necessity, and since nothing untoward occurred from any of the guests then or even now, I would like to have a go at being with you. Even if that time consists of walking the acreage.”

  Oh, my. She felt like a girl at her first society event as she stared at him, on the verge of tumbling into those blue-gray pools. “My attention and times are pledged to last-minute preparations for the ball tonight.”

  Disappointment flashed deep in his eyes. “I see.” The words were cold and clipped.

  Her heart trembled. She didn’t want to acknowledge that she’d hurt him—again. “However, if you give me two hours, I will be free. I promise.” You’re weak, Amelia. She tried to ignore the internal admonition. You’ve the strength of cooked porridge around him. But she couldn’t help it. Being with Cornelius the other night hadn’t purged him from her system. Instead, it had only increased her craving for him, made her want to be with
him.

  “Granted.” He brought her hand to his lips, all the while holding her gaze. Unrepentant heat burned in his, and she gave into a shiver of need. “I meant what I said, Mia.”

  Confusion drifted through her brain to bump against the desire that held her captive. “So did I.” Could she follow through with it?

  He winked. “We shall see.” Then he glided away, his long legs and limping gait eating up the snow-covered landscape.

  The laughter from the greenery gathering crew diverted her attention. Oh, he’d be trouble of the most delicious kind, but what did that mean for her and the end of the house party? She didn’t lie; her heart couldn’t take any more death or sadness, and she refused to come apart by seeing another man she cared about put in peril.

  She sucked in a breath. In what capacity did she care about Cornelius? That was a question to examine at a later time.

  Was the risk worth it? That remained to be seen. A sigh escaped her, and she smiled again at the group of giggling girls intent on securing the attention of the men. Romance during Christmastide was magical indeed. Then her dark thoughts intruded once more. Everyone she’d ever loved had left her, regardless of the promises they’d made.

  Good heavens, Amelia. You’re acting like a silly goose. Yes, she was, for she was not in love with Cornelius Edgerton.

  She nodded to reinforce that thought. Because of that, there was nothing to worry about. She would celebrate his birthday and then enjoy the ball. Emotions would not intrude upon this day.

  On Amelia’s way to meet Cornelius on the back lawn, she caught Charles in the corridor outside of his study. “How do you plan to spend the afternoon, Cousin?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Hiding from Lady Eaton, I believe. And if that doesn’t work, I shall write a slew of letters that are seriously overdue. Or, if I’m truly desperate, I’ll meet with my estate foreman. I might as well wish him a happy Christmas, in any event.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re making inroads into taking the title seriously.” Only time would tell if he truly would do as he said.