Page 2 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
Amelia suspected Clara and Isobel Turner, the daughters of Lady Turner Turner whom Amelia had met at the winter ball at Claringdon House had something to do with it. It was an invitation to a Christmas party held at the Devonshire estate of the Earl of Amhurst, Nicholas Ashworth. Lady Turner was the earl’s paternal aunt, and her daughters had spoken at length of the annual gathering at the ancestral home on the Amhurst estate.
“It’s quite an occasion. He invites all sorts of people. We don’t have a choice; mother’s in his debt. It’s kind of him, though. He’s an interesting figure,” Isobel had said, raising her eyebrows.
Amelia had been intrigued. She was a naturally curious person and had learned some interesting things about the Earl of Amhurst since the arrival of the invitation. Her mother narrowed her eyes.
“Well, it’s rather short notice, Amelia. Your father…well, I suppose your father doesn’t care much for the Christmas celebrations, but…” she said, as though trying to find an excuse to refuse the invitation.
Amelia could not go alone, and though thoughts of Rupert held her back, she knew the Christmas party was just what she needed. It would be a chance to escape her memories and make new ones, too. She looked pleadingly at her mother, hoping she would agree.
Clara and Isobel were both delightful young women Amelia’s age, and she had found an immediate affinity. But the earl intrigued her. Discreet inquiries had revealed a question over his legitimacy.
“Oh, please, Mother. Can’t we go? You said yourself I need something other than my memories. It’s very kind of them to invite us. They hardly know us, but I like Clara and Isobel. They’re such fun,” Amelia said. In the company of her new friends, she had found herself looking to the future, rather than dwelling on the past.
Her mother nodded, though she still looked somewhat skeptical.
“Well…yes, I suppose so. But think of the journey…all the way to Devon, and the weather is not great for traveling. What if we get trapped in the snow?” the baroness replied.
Amelia’s face fell. She had not thought about that and now realized it would be an arduous trip. She had been caught up in thoughts about the estate. Clara was told it was one of the oldest estates in Devonshire, with views spanning vast tracts of moorland towards the sea.
“I’m sure we could find a reliable driver,” Amelia said.
Her mother looked at her sympathetically.
“And do you really think it would help…to go there, I mean? Would your sorrows not just be waiting for you here on your return?” she asked.
Amelia did not know. She would carry the locket of Rupert’s hair with her, but as for the memories…
“I need to do something, Mother. And it really is very kind of the earl to invite us. He invites all sorts of people, apparently. And he’s an interesting character in his own right. They say he’s illegitimate and a recluse. He never comes up to London. He never leaves the estate,” Amelia said.
Her mother looked slightly taken aback by these rumors, even though Amelia sought to reassure her there was no scandal involved. Rumor had it he was the product of a liaison with a maid, though no one had ever been able to prove as much.
“It would certainly prove an interesting diversion for you, Amelia. Very well. I’ll write to the earl and express our gratitude for his invitation. But, I’m not looking forward to the journey,” she said.
Amelia smiled. She was glad to have something to look forward to and distract her from her thoughts of Rupert. She knew he was not coming back, even though she was not ready to let him go.
“I’ll write to Clara and Isobel. I’m sure it’s their doing. As far as I know, we’ve never met the earl, have we?” Amelia said, feeling a sudden excitement at the prospect of the house party and all it might bring.
Her mother shook her head.
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied, sounding somewhat vague. Amelia felt certain she had never laid eyes on the earl, even as her discreet inquiries had revealed some interesting facts about him.
After breakfast, the baroness broke the news to Amelia’s father. The baron was unperturbed, seeming to relish the prospect of a Christmas on his own.
“Don’t worry about me, Beryl, I’ll be quite all right. Brandy and plum pudding is all I need for a happy Christmas,” he said, and it seemed the matter was settled.
Amelia’s mother sat down to write a letter of acceptance to the invitation, and Amelia did the same to Clara and Isobel. They knew of her sorrow over Rupert and the tragedy of her loss. It seemed they had taken it on themselves to help alleviate her melancholy. Even if it’s only a distraction.
“It’ll be cold in Devonshire with the sea winds and moorland snow,” Elsie said, as she helped Amelia choose which dresses to take with her.
“Oh, I think it’ll do me a world of good, Elsie. The fresh air of the countryside will be nice. London can be so stifling,” Amelia replied.
She was looking forward to getting away from the capital, and the thought of doing so gave her a renewed sense of hope. She had been fearful her mother would say no, and though the baroness had seemed reticent at first, Amelia was glad to have persuaded her.
“You’ll need plenty of warm clothes, Lady Amelia. And what about formal clothes? Will there be dancing? Dinners?” Elsie asked.
Amelia did not know. She had never attended a house party before, let alone a Christmas one. Her parents, though titled, were not part of the landed aristocracy. Her father owned a small estate in Hampshire, where he was patron of the living for two parishes, and their house in London was modest, though comfortable.
At her coming out, Amelia had found it hard to compete with those women whose whole lives had been steered towards the acquisition of a husband and the elevation of their rank. She had met Rupert at a dinner hosted by a friend of her mother’s, and it had been love at first sight.
