Page 6 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“I… it’s magnificent. I’m looking forward to seeing it in the daylight,” she said, as they drove up a sweeping drive towards the house.
“It’s been the seat of the earls of Amhurst for eleven generations. The title was granted in medieval times. I’m the fourteenth earl,” he said, looking somewhat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her.
Another shiver ran through Amelia. There was something about him, something entirely unexpected. Amelia could not doubt her attraction to him, even as she reminded herself of the inappropriateness of such feelings, the locket around her neck a symbol of her fidelity to the past.
“How remarkable,” Amelia replied, as they drew up beneath the portico.
A footman hurried out to greet them, opening the compartment door as the door to the house itself was attended by two others. The earl climbed down first, helping Amelia’s mother, then Amelia, taking his hand in his with a smile.
“Welcome to Ashworth House, Lady Amelia. You’re very welcome here, both of you,” he said.
An icy blast of wind caught Amelia’s shawl, blowing it from her shoulders, and the earl was engulfed by the material, catching it in his hand and spluttering.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Amelia said, but he only smiled, taking the shawl and placing it gently around her shoulders.
“Come now, let me show you in. There’s a warm fire waiting in the drawing room, and we’ll have tea,” he said, ushering them into the house.
The hallway was warm and welcoming, a large fire burning in the hearth, and the walls lined with paintings and portraits. Candles burned in sconces, their flickering light casting shadows across the black and white marbled floor, where rugs were laid out, on one of which was sleeping a large dog, who looked up as they entered the house.
“What a beautiful home,” Amelia’s mother exclaimed, and the earl nodded graciously.
“That’s very kind of you to say, Lady Wells. And you’re very welcome to it,” he said, as footsteps sounded in the corridor beyond the hallway.
Clara, Isobel, and their mother now appeared, and there was much greeting and lamentation as the story of their rescue was shared. Clara and Isobel were unmistakable as sisters, each possessed of the same red hair, curled into ringlets, and bright blue eyes, rosy-cheeked and smiling. Their mother, too, had the same appearance, and might well have been taken for a third sister, had Amelia not known better.
“These roads can be quite atrocious; especially in winter,” she said, greeting Amelia’s mother.
There was a familiarity in their exchange of kisses, though the baroness had mentioned no connection between them.
“Well… all that matters is you’re here. Your maid arrived this morning. She came with the mail coach,” Clara said, and Amelia was relieved to hear Elsie had arrived safely.
She had imagined all manner of dreadful scenarios, her maid lost in the snow or caught up in a trap laid by bandits.
“Why don’t you girls show Lady Wells and Lady Amelia to their bedrooms? I’ll join you in the drawing room shortly. We’re expecting everyone else to arrive today, though I fear there may be some delays,” the earl said, rubbing his hands together in front of the fire, as the dog leaped up at him and barked.
“Is it to be a large gathering?” Amelia asked, for she was curious to know more about the other guests.
“Oh… just a… select few,” the earl replied, smiling at Amelia, who blushed.
She did not know why she should feel so overcome in his presence. She barely knew him, even as she could not help but find her attentions drawn to him, attracted by both his looks and his charm. His smile lingered, and Amelia had to avert her gaze, wondering if he was merely being welcoming, or if there was something more in his attentions. Had he felt the same spark of attraction for her as she had for him?
“Come along, Amelia. We’ll show you upstairs. You’ll want to get changed, I’m sure,” Isobel said, taking Amelia by the arm.
Amelia glanced at her mother, who nodded.
“Lady Turner’s going to show me to my bedroom. I’ll see you shortly, Amelia,” she said, and Amelia nodded.
The earl smiled at her, giving a curt bow, before Clara and Isobel led her away along the corridor from the hallway. She could feel his eyes on her, and she wanted to turn, to catch a last glimpse of his gaze, her face flushed with embarrassment at his attentions, even as neither Clara nor Isobel had seemed to notice.
“You’re on the first landing, not far from us,” Clara said, and they led Amelia up a flight of stairs, lined with portraits of the previous earls, all of whom bore a striking resemblance to Nicholas.
“It’s a remarkable house,” Amelia said, marveling at the decoration all around her.
“We love coming here. It’s our home. We both detest London. I found the summer season such a bore. But you should see Ashworth House in the summer, Amelia. There’s a path leading down from the gardens to the beach below, and we swim in the sea and walk for miles along the sand. Then there’s the moorland, and the purple heathers covered in butterflies are idyllic. I hope you’ll come and see it then, too,” Isobel said.
Amelia smiled. The thought was certainly a pleasant one, especially if the earl himself would be there, too. She had expected a recluse but had found a man entirely at ease in his own surroundings, a man who had done nothing but make her welcome.
There had been some trepidation on Amelia’s part at the prospect of the house party, but now she could only look forward as to what was to come, curious to meet the other guests and discover why the earl had decided to bring this particular group of people together at Christmas.
