Page 1 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
Chapter 1
London, England, Winter, 1816.
“How I long to hold you in my arms… to bring my lips to yours… to smell your sweet scent… our hands clasped together… how I miss you, Amelia… my darling Amelia… I long for you more and more each day… only a short while, my love, then we’ll be together… together forever…”
Amelia Fairchild folded the letter, brushing a tear from her cheek. It was the last letter he had sent, the scent of his cologne still faint on the parchment, and his voice resounding from the words on the page.
“My poor Rupert,” she said, holding the letter to her breast, as though holding him in her arms.
It was over a year since the arrival of the letter, a year since she had heard anything ofThe Honore,Rupert’s ship. Though she had not entirely given up hope, in her heart she knew he was gone. She thought back to the day they bid one another farewell.
He had asked her to marry him, promising to return in six months, telling her it was not so long to wait when the two of them had a lifetime of happiness ahead of them. She had accepted. They kissed, and she had watched the ship sail out from the docks with a smile on her face imagining Rupert’s return. That had been eighteen months ago.
The days and weeks had gone by, and Amelia had busied herself making preparations. Her parents had been delighted at the prospect of her marrying Lord Carlisle, the second son of the Duke of Cumberland, and her family and friends had rejoiced with her. But the letter she held in her hands had been the last, and her response had gone unanswered.
“We believeThe Honoreto be lost at sea. There was a terrible storm, and local accounts suggest the shipwrecked on a reef off Jamaica three months ago,” the naval official said, sitting in the drawing room in his starched uniform as Amelia had wept.
She had a locket of Rupert’s hair and now, folding the letter and placing it in the drawer of her dressing table, she slipped the locket around her neck, sighing, as she gazed at her expression in the mirror. A knock now came at the door, and Amelia brushed another tear from her cheek as her maid, Elsie, entered the room.
“Good morning, Lady Amelia. Your mother’s waiting for you downstairs. Would you like me to help you with anything before you go down?” she asked.
Amelia shook her head. She had awoken early that morning, disturbed by an unpleasant dream. The dream was about Rupert, and she got up to dress herself, not wishing to lie in bed and dwell on her sorrows.
“No, thank you, Elsie. I’ve managed myself. I’ll go down in a few moments,” Amelia replied, for she did not want her mother to see her upset.
The maid nodded, busying herself with folding Amelia’s clothes from the night before. Amelia rose from the dressing table, glancing at herself for a final time in the mirror. She knew she had to let go of Rupert’s memory, or rather, her attachment to her feelings for him.
She still loved him, but if she was ever going to find happiness again, she had to leave her love for him behind, honoring his memory, but allowing herself a future, too. She tried to forget and have a good time at the winter ball at Claringdon House and the dinner party given by Lord Sotheby.
Christmas was approaching, and Amelia had been caught up in the pleasures of dancing and merrymaking in what was meant to be the happiest of seasons. But thoughts of Rupert always recurred and guilt in finding pleasure in her own life when he was gone was difficult.
“If you need anything else, Lady Amelia, just ring,” Elsie said, smiling at Amelia, who nodded.
She put on a shawl, for the day was cold, and though the fire burned brightly in the hearth of her bedroom, a bitter draught came from the window, and outside snow covered the garden behind the house. Making her way downstairs, she was met by the pleasant aroma of breakfast coming from the dining room, where she found her mother sitting alone at the table.
“Oh, Amelia, you’re late down today. Your father’s already in his study,” she said, as Amelia sat down at the table.
Amelia’s mother, Baroness Wells, was a tall, elegant looking woman. She had been a belle in her younger days and was still possessed of the same beauty inherited by Amelia–dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a dimpled nose. Amelia sat down opposite her.
“I’m sorry, mother. I was just…” Amelia began, before promptly bursting into tears.
She did not want her mother to see her upset. She had brought it on herself by reading the letters, and it was always the same. Her mother looked at her sympathetically.
“I know it’s hard, Amelia, but it’s been a year now. You can’t live your life through the prism of regret. It can’t be so. You’ll only be unhappy,” she said, shaking her head.
Amelia pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. She knew her mother was right, but try as she might, she could not rid herself of the sorrow she felt. She was reminded of it every day as she clasped at the locket around her neck.
“I miss him, Mother. I know it’s foolish. I know he’s not coming back, but I still hope for him to do so,” she said.
Her mother shook her head.
“He’s not going to, Amelia. And if you don’t accept that… well, you’re going to live a sad and lonely life. What about your new friends, Clara and Isobel? Can’t they do something to cheer you? It’s nearly Christmas, after all. I hate to see you like this,” the baroness said.
Amelia took a deep breath, signaling for the footman to pour her a cup of coffee. She knew her mother was right. She took out the invitation from her pocket she had been mulling over for several days. Her mother looked at her in surprise as she passed it across the table.
“This arrived for me, Mother. I’d like to accept it, but you’d need to come with me,” she said.
Her mother raised her eyebrows, peering at the invitation, as Amelia waited nervously. It had arrived unexpectedly.
