Page 58 of His Spirited Lady
“We’ve discussed taking our wedding trip to France.” Well, he and Augustus had discussed it. Amelia had seemed excited when he’d mentioned it later—until she’d remembered they were pretending.
“You could stay here,” Oliver said.
They crested a hill, and the mill lay below them, spread like one of Simon’s toys across the carpet in their offices back home. It resembled the mills they owned across the province, but the lack of rugged mountains was a constant reminder they were no longer in Canada. He needed to be in Canada. “I think not.”
“Why? Your families are here. Her business. You’re my partner in this.” He swiped his hand across the valley. “And it’s closer to the winery.” He kept his eyes on the team and on the road as they navigated the switchbacks that let them descend at a safe angle. “Potter can keep the provincial mills going without us. You said so yourself when you wrote about this trip.” They reached the lumberyard, and Oliver slowed the team to a stop. “Stay, Rich. We miss you.”
The simple words warmed him through. Being here made him realize how much he’d missed—how much he’d miss in the future. But only part of his family was here, and Amelia’s plan didn’t work if he didn’t leave.
Chapter Fifteen
Amelia put herpalm flat against her stomach. Past the satin and stays, a giant flock of geese thundered against her ribcage as though she were thwarting their migration.
“You are lovely,” Mother said as she stared over Amelia’s shoulder and into the mirror. “I am glad you have made your own match, Amelia.”
One day soon, Amelia wouldn’t feel guilty every time she spoke with her parents. She would be able to ride to her distillery in the daylight without sneaking down the back stairs. She’d be able to work in the same space, and at the same time, as her employees. Today wasn’t that day. “I’m proud that you and Father have accepted him.”
“Whether thetonadmits it or not, we all benefit from someone’s hard work,” Mother said. “And some families are only a few generations from trade themselves.” She put a gentle hand on Amelia’s shoulder, encouraging her to turn. “But I owe you an explanation. I wanted to improve your standing because I thought it was what your true mother would have done if she were able.” Her eyes teared. “I wanted to prove that I had been…”
Oh, hang it all.Amelia had accepted her parents’ eventual disappointment when she ended up on the shelf, but she’d never expected it to come if she was actually engaged. It was one of the reasons she’d devised this plan. Besides that, who could be disappointed with Richard? But here Mother was, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief that was more lace than useful fabric. “You can’t still have your heart set on Ethan?”
Mother shook her head, sending her curls bouncing and making her appear younger, though she was closer to Amelia’s age than Father’s. “Heavens, no. That young man fooled me well, but he will only do it once.” She took Amelia’s hand in a tight grip. “When I married your father, my mother’s only question was to my happiness. And I can see how happy you are with Richard in your life.”
“I am.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d enjoyed her horrible house party because he’d been there to laugh with, and his words of encouragement stuck with her. More than that, he knew her secret and had proved he could be trusted with it. He didn’t treat her like she was foolish, and their sales of his wine had added much needed capital to her coffers. But it was all bittersweet.
“I will miss you, dear girl. And I don’t know what I’ll do without you when…”
The rest of her sentence was lost in her handkerchief, but Amelia knew enough to fill it in. She pulled a chair close and eased Mother into it. Rather than confessing her plan, she knelt without care of her skirts or her aching back. “I will be close by.” She cut off her mother’s protest. “Richard has mentioned a wedding trip to his winery in France.”
“What a kind thing to do.” Mother turned to the mirror and blotted her tears. “And you will enjoy that. You’ve always loved learning about how things are made. Wine will interest you more than lumber, I think.”
But not more than whiskey.Besides that, she’s never heard Richard speak about forests and trees.“Perhaps, but I won’t know that if we don’t get downstairs.”
“Your father should be up in a moment.” Mother stood and leaned close to the mirror. “I don’t look like I’ve been crying, do I? It bothers him if I’m weepy. And I would hate for Lady Gerard to gossip that I’m not happy about Richard joining the family.”
Amelia suspected any red-rimmed eyes would be counted toward happiness. She put her chin on her mother’s shoulder and grinned into the mirror. “Lady Gerard will be far too busy turning every conversation to Margaret and Charles Grayson.”
A knock at the door had them both straightening. “Come in.”
Father closed the door behind him and stopped, his eyes wide. “Two of the most beautiful ladies in England, under my roof at the same time.”
It was the first time he hadn’t addressed her as ayounglady. Amelia’s eyes stung. “And the most dashing man.”
His laugh boomed against the ceiling as he strode to them, his arms outstretched. She walked into his embrace. This was her father of old, strong and commanding attention, but she knew he’d rested most of the afternoon in preparation for tonight.
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the man waiting for you downstairs.” His voice rumbled through her ear and warmed her heart as much as his arms warmed her suddenly cold body. He backed away much too quickly. “And I’ll get an awful scolding if I muss your dress.”
He cleared his throat and offered a long, wide jewelry box, its velvet cover as black as a moonless night. It had been in his safe for as long as Amelia could remember, and she’d heard the history of its contents all her life. Her tears slipped free.
“None of that,” Father blustered. “Your mother would have wanted you to have them tonight.” He opened the case, revealing an oval sapphire set in the middle of a double strand of lustrous pearls. The companion earrings were sapphire bobs with pearl drops. He’d bought them as a wedding gift for her mother because the gems matched her eyes.
Father motioned for her to turn so she could watch him slip the pearls around her neck. The sapphire rested just below the base of her throat and was cool against her fingers.
“It’s lovely, Father.” Amelia searched for a memory of her mother wearing these, but the only image she could grasp was the portrait that hung in her hallway. Her true mother had been painted in her garden, in a simple day dress, so there hadn’t been a need for jewels.
The earrings were heavier than she’d expected, but they were too pretty to leave behind. The sapphires caught the light when she moved her head. The pearls, cool at first, warmed against her skin. The lady in the mirror had little in common with the child who’d grown up in this room or the distiller who shoved her work clothes under the bed.
“Enough, ladies.” Father offered Amelia his arm. “Let’s go celebrate an engagement.”
