Page 63 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“Damn it,” she heard someone say. Creeping along the corridor, she peered cautiously around the corner where stairs led up to the cold rooms.
To her surprise, she found Harry leaning over the doorway into Constance’s bedroom. It seemed as though he was trying to lock it. The sound she had heard being the turning of the key. He tried again, pulling harder at the door, and this time succeeding. There was a bundle of papers under his arm. He turned, hurrying off in the direction of the upper wing and the cold rooms. He had not seen her, but it struck Amelia as being decidedly odd.
“What was he doing in her room? Unless he has something to do with it all, too. They’re all as thick as thieves. Perhaps Clara and Isobel only invited me here for their cousin’s pleasure. This wasn’t a house party to discover a secret about Nicholas’ mother. It was a house party to humiliate me,”she told herself, hurrying back to her bedroom, where she stuffed a few clothes into a bag, tears rolling down her cheeks as she did so.
She had no choice but to leave, and any lingering feelings towards Nicholas were hastily dismissed. She had allowed herself to fall in love with him and be seduced by his charms. But it was neither love nor charm he displayed, and Amelia reminded herself she was doing the right thing in running away.
She had taken her warmest clothes and intended to steal one of the overcoats from the closet downstairs. She took her bag, slipping out of her bedroom and down the stairs.
Her heart was beating fast, and she imagined she would meet someone at any moment, but the sound of chatter and conviviality could still be heard from the dining room. Amelia reached the door to the garden on the library corridor without incident.
“I hope the two of you are very happy,”she thought to herself, pulling a large coat over her shoulders before pulling back the bolt barring the door.
The day was bright and clear, the snowy landscape opening out before her, and despite her fears, Amelia knew she was doing the right thing. She stepped out into the snow, pulling the door closed behind her and took a deep breath.
“Help me Rupert, be with me. I feel like I’m lost at sea, too,” she whispered, her hand on the locket, knowing where her heart truly lay.
***
The clock in the dining room had just struck ten as Harry returned to the dining room. He glanced at Nicholas, but gave nothing away. He took his seat in front of a plate of congealing sausages and deviled kidneys.
“Indigestion, was it?” Lord Thornton called across the table.
“Oh… yes. Something like that,” Harry replied.
Nicholas’ heart skipped a beat, and he wondered if his friend had been successful in finding the letters revealing the truth about his past. They could be the key to breaking Constance’s hold over him.
“Your breakfast is cold,” Mrs. Bennett said, tutting and shaking his head.
“Well, I probably shouldn’t eat it now, anyway. It won’t be long until luncheon, will it?” Harry said, and Mrs. Bennett nodded.
“Shall we have some carols by way of church this morning? It feels strange not to hear matins said on such an illustrious day,” Sir Samuel said, and it was agreed they would gather in the drawing room at eleven to recall the events they were celebrating with carols and a reading from scripture.
But Nicholas did not feel like celebrating. He was anxious and fearing what would happen when the inevitable announcement was made. Amelia had behaved strangely towards him that morning, and he was still curious to know what Branston had meant by her being outside early in the morning.
She had appeared withdrawn and sorrowful, too. But there had been anger in her eyes, and animosity as she had looked at him across the dining table.
“What does she know?”he wondered, glancing across at Amelia’s mother, and wondering if perhaps a further secret had been revealed. One unbeknownst to him.
“Nicholas? A word, please,” Constance said, beckoning to him as the guests rose from the dining table.
He sighed, reluctant to even make eye contact with her, let alone speak to her. What was to be was to be, and he would announce their betrothal as she had instructed him to do, fearing whatever it was she held over him.
“What is it?” he asked, as they found themselves alone in the dining room, the servants having taken the last of the empty plates and dishes away.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten what we talked about last night,” she said, and Nicholas shook his head.
“How could I forget, Constance? Breakfast is hardly the proper place—” he said, but she interrupted him.
“I know it’s not. I want you to make it after luncheon in the drawing room. Gather everyone together, and we can toast our new found happiness,” she said.
Nicholas sighed. There was no point in arguing. Her threats would only prove greater, even as he wondered what it was she knew about him.
“How long have you known? How long have you had those letters?” he asked, and Constance smiled.
“Since my father died. But it was only recently I realized their true worth. One has to read them all to find the truth,” she replied.
“And what truth is that?” he demanded.
