Page 58 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“Until tomorrow, I have, yes. But don’t forget what I said, Nicholas. There’s still the betrothal to announce. Don’t forget my promise,” she said, and with that, she turned and left the room, leaving Nicholas in the agony of despair, knowing his future hung in the balance, and fearing Constance really did know the awful truth about his mother.
Chapter 18
At the sight of them kissing Amelia turned away, tears filling her eyes. The kiss she saw was obviously one of passion and desire. She could hardly believe what she had seen, and now she knew Constance had been telling the truth. A dreadful truth. A truth Amelia had thought could not possibly be true. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders, the howling around the house, bringing with it fresh flurries of snow.
“I’ve been such a fool,”she thought to herself, for it was clear Nicholas had every desire to marry Constance or a desire for her, at least.
Amelia had thought she was the only one to possess his affections, the only one for whom his desires were aroused. But now it seemed Constance had been right, and the announcement of the betrothal would come tomorrow as planned. It hurt her to think Nicholas had lied to her, playing her off against Constance. She did not even seem to care as long as the prize was hers in the end.
“How could he be so cruel? The things he said, the things we did,”she told herself.
She had been naïve and foolish. She thought of Rupert, her darling Rupert. He would have been horrified by her behavior, and now she had made a complete and utter fool of herself. She imagined Nicholas and Constance laughing at her. She turned away from the window, making her way slowly around the edge of the house, wanting only to go to bed. She had every intention of leaving the very next day whether her mother liked it or not.
“I’ll go back to London with Elsie, and I’ll never speak to another man for as long as I live,”she said to herself, promising to put Rupert’s locket back on and honor his memory as though she was his widow.
But as she came to the door leading into the corridor by the library, she found it shut and bolted from the inside. She pushed, tugging back and forth, panic setting in. She banged on the door, calling for someone to let her in.
“Anyone? Can you hear me?” she called out, but no sound came from inside, only the howling of the window, and the creaking of the shutters on the windows above.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. She had been Constance’s victim once again: a locked door, a torn dress, and the humiliation of learning the truth about the man she had allowed herself to fall in love with.
Now she turned, holding her hand up against the driving snow, fearing she would be trapped outside for the rest of the night. Everyone else had gone to bed, and the howling of the wind meant her cries would go unheard. She hurried back to the library window, but it was dark now, its occupant gone, perhaps even to Constance’s bed.
“Oh, Rupert, I’m so sorry,”Amelia said to herself, as tears rolled down her cheeks.
She knew she had to find somewhere to shelter. She was shivering, her dress and shawl hardly enough to keep out the cold. She hurried across the lawn in the direction of the stables. She hoped it was the direction of the stables, a vague memory from the day of their arrival. She was so upset she was barely able to think strait. Her thoughts were consumed by the terrible scene she had witnessed at Constance’s bidding.
“It was my own fault. I allowed him to lead me on, both of them. They were just toying with me,”she told herself, anger now mixed with sorrow at the thought of the cruel game she had been played.
But to her relief, she remembered the direction in which the stables lay and hurried beneath the gabled arch into the stable yard, pulling open the door to the nearest stall and pulling it shut against the elements. A lamp was burning, and a chestnut mare looked up in surprise at the sight of Amelia who collapsed into the straw, sobbing uncontrollably. The horse, as though sensing her distress, rose to its feet, coming over to her and nuzzling at her.
“Oh, thank you,” she whispered, stroking the horse’s nose.
The mare sat down in the straw next to her. Amelia was thankful for its warmth, laying her head on its side, and stroking it gently. She had been a fool, more than a fool, she had been naïve, and she had allowed herself to be played in a wicked game.
She wondered who else knew about it. Did Clara and Isobel? Perhaps everyone knew, and all of them were laughing at her terrible fortune. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the sense of humiliation overwhelmed her.
“Rupert, how I long for you. You don’t hate me, do you? How I miss you…oh, Rupert,”she whispered, and with Rupert’s name on her lips, she fell into a sorrowful and broken sleep.
***
It was the stable boy who found her, waking her as he pulled back the stable door and calling for the chestnut mare whose name was Arwyn.
“A Merry Christmas to you, my girl, I’ve brought you some oats, and… oh,” he said, as Amelia sat up and looked at him.
He could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen, broadly built for his age, and dressed in an oversized coat and breeches, a hat pulled down over his head, the top of which was covered in flecks of snow.
“I… oh,” Amelia said, recalling the terrible events of the previous night, and fearing for what was to come next.
The boy stared at her in surprise.
“Miss?” he said, and Amelia scrambled to her feet, pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
“It’s all right. I was just… I have trouble sleeping. Horses always calm me,” she said, knowing it was a ridiculous excuse, but the stable boy only nodded and smiled.
“They do the same for me, Miss,” he replied, and Amelia nodded.
“Well… a Happy Christmas, a Merry Christmas to you,” she said, edging past the boy, who nodded.
