infamous men of the ton ,
which also helped to increase the rather enormous amount of invitations she
received. Anyone that might bring with
them a bit of gossip about two of Society's most notorious bachelors was always
welcome in the drawing rooms and ballrooms of London.
Before her debut, Amelia had given
very little thought to the location of Fallstaff Grange, simply accepting that
everyone had neighbors. Hers were
simply slightly more notorious. David's
estate lay to the west of her family's, while Overlook Hill, the ancestral home
of the infamous - and, were she being honest, somewhat terrifying to most -
Adam St. Vincent, the Duke of Enwright, lay to the east.
Amelia had never thought Adam all
that terrifying, actually. Cold and
remote certainly, and thrust into the dukedom well before his time, but never
cruel or horrid, as some chits of the ton had whispered behind his back
over the years. If anything, to Amelia,
he had seemed rather sad and alone. In
recent years, especially after his marriage to Lady Lucy Cavendish, he had
become even less terrifying, but no less fearsome when crossed. He and his wife even called upon the
Banbrooks with some frequency when he was in residence at Overlook to share
some fine brandy or port.
However, for as dashing and
handsome as Enwright had been in their youth, it was the young Earl of
Weatherby who had won Amelia's loyalty and love. Merely because he was kind to her more often than a boy several
years older than she should have been, she supposed. David should have dismissed her as a youthful pest, but
instead, he had grudgingly invited her along on his adventures with his cousin,
Hugh Sykes, the future Earl of Hewdon, when they were in residence at the hall.
When David's parents had died in a
carriage accident when he was merely four, he was not at all capable of
managing the title that had been thrust upon him far too soon. In truth, he was more interested in mud pies
than seeing to flooding fields that left tenants unable to farm and the estate
teetering on the edge of destitution. So his uncle, James Sykes had stepped in, temporarily relocating his own
family to Weatherby Hall a few months out of every year until David was old
enough to go off to school and leave the estate in the capable hands of a
carefully chosen steward.
It was during those early years
that Amelia and her parents had visited the Hall frequently, and she had found
in David a playmate who was more willing to allow her to accompany him than the
children of her parents' own servants.
The seeds of Amelia's love for
David had been sown so very long ago but had remained dormant for years,
undisturbed like so much fallow ground, neither producing anything nor changing
in any way. Until this previous season
when she had danced with the dashing earl at the wedding of her distant cousin,
Lady Amy Cheltenham to Doctor - and now Lord - Gibson Blackwell.
The dance had been a waltz. She and David had waltzed together for
years, including many times at Almack's, without incident. It was simply the done thing. He was her long time friend and she? Well, she was someone he took pity on,
someone whose shy nature and occasional bad habit of saying precisely what she
thought did not exactly endear her to the young bucks who lusted after the
prettiest and oftentimes less moral debutantes. Not even her dowry could overcome that flaw in her personality
and she well knew it.
Even now, Amelia could not say what
changed that night. All she knew was
that when the music had begun and David had taken her hand in his, there had
been a monumental shift inside of her, as if she was looking at her old friend
through new eyes. Almost as if she was
seeing him for the first time.
He was handsome. She had known that, of course, as she was
not blind. She also knew that he had
been chased all over the drawing rooms of London by marriage-minded mamas and
their title-grasping
which also helped to increase the rather enormous amount of invitations she
received. Anyone that might bring with
them a bit of gossip about two of Society's most notorious bachelors was always
welcome in the drawing rooms and ballrooms of London.
Before her debut, Amelia had given
very little thought to the location of Fallstaff Grange, simply accepting that
everyone had neighbors. Hers were
simply slightly more notorious. David's
estate lay to the west of her family's, while Overlook Hill, the ancestral home
of the infamous - and, were she being honest, somewhat terrifying to most -
Adam St. Vincent, the Duke of Enwright, lay to the east.
Amelia had never thought Adam all
that terrifying, actually. Cold and
remote certainly, and thrust into the dukedom well before his time, but never
cruel or horrid, as some chits of the ton had whispered behind his back
over the years. If anything, to Amelia,
he had seemed rather sad and alone. In
recent years, especially after his marriage to Lady Lucy Cavendish, he had
become even less terrifying, but no less fearsome when crossed. He and his wife even called upon the
Banbrooks with some frequency when he was in residence at Overlook to share
some fine brandy or port.
However, for as dashing and
handsome as Enwright had been in their youth, it was the young Earl of
Weatherby who had won Amelia's loyalty and love. Merely because he was kind to her more often than a boy several
years older than she should have been, she supposed. David should have dismissed her as a youthful pest, but
instead, he had grudgingly invited her along on his adventures with his cousin,
Hugh Sykes, the future Earl of Hewdon, when they were in residence at the hall.
When David's parents had died in a
carriage accident when he was merely four, he was not at all capable of
managing the title that had been thrust upon him far too soon. In truth, he was more interested in mud pies
than seeing to flooding fields that left tenants unable to farm and the estate
teetering on the edge of destitution. So his uncle, James Sykes had stepped in, temporarily relocating his own
family to Weatherby Hall a few months out of every year until David was old
enough to go off to school and leave the estate in the capable hands of a
carefully chosen steward.
It was during those early years
that Amelia and her parents had visited the Hall frequently, and she had found
in David a playmate who was more willing to allow her to accompany him than the
children of her parents' own servants.
The seeds of Amelia's love for
David had been sown so very long ago but had remained dormant for years,
undisturbed like so much fallow ground, neither producing anything nor changing
in any way. Until this previous season
when she had danced with the dashing earl at the wedding of her distant cousin,
Lady Amy Cheltenham to Doctor - and now Lord - Gibson Blackwell.
The dance had been a waltz. She and David had waltzed together for
years, including many times at Almack's, without incident. It was simply the done thing. He was her long time friend and she? Well, she was someone he took pity on,
someone whose shy nature and occasional bad habit of saying precisely what she
thought did not exactly endear her to the young bucks who lusted after the
prettiest and oftentimes less moral debutantes. Not even her dowry could overcome that flaw in her personality
and she well knew it.
Even now, Amelia could not say what
changed that night. All she knew was
that when the music had begun and David had taken her hand in his, there had
been a monumental shift inside of her, as if she was looking at her old friend
through new eyes. Almost as if she was
seeing him for the first time.
He was handsome. She had known that, of course, as she was
not blind. She also knew that he had
been chased all over the drawing rooms of London by marriage-minded mamas and
their title-grasping
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