Danice Allen Read online

  Presently the aunts settled down again, and Nan said, “It looks like Amanda Jane’s going to have a happy ending after all.” She sighed. “I hope Samantha is just as fortunate, but she has so much more to overcome … not the least of which is her illegitimacy.”

  Rob stiffened and pricked his ears. Who was Samantha? he wondered.

  “Do you think Lord Serling’s scheme to pass her off as Amanda’s orphaned cousin will work?”

  “I’m sure if Lord Serling tells polite society Samantha is Amanda Jane’s cousin, polite society will believe it … particularly after he has tutored her in all that’s proper and forced her to acquire the usual accomplishments. She can’t perhaps aspire to wed into the first circles, as her obscure roots might be questioned by high-sticklers, but I daresay she’ll make a respectable match.”

  “To be sure, she deserves as much,” observed Pris. “Amanda Jane’s father was an absolute villain to hide her away like he did. Imagine, Nan, Amanda Jane’s half-sister living secretly on that dreadful island all those years and none of us having the least idea …!”

  “Yes,” Nan said soberly. “And it must remain a secret, known only within our small family circle. Otherwise, Samantha won’t have a chance for happiness. She’ll be hampered all her life by her past. It’s extremely important to Amanda Jane to make sure Sam’s future is secure.”

  “Yes,” Pris agreed. “I know. Dear Amanda Jane! She’d do anything for Samantha!”

  Anything? Rob wondered with an evil leer. Well, he’d test that theory first thing tomorrow morning.

  The duns at the gaming houses were getting down-right nasty lately about wanting their money, threatening him with physical harm and such. If he didn’t want to be beaten to a pulp in some alley, he either had to pay off his debts or abscond to the continent to live out his days in squalid obscurity.

  Rob wasn’t ready to leave England, and he’d just been given a thread of hope that there might be an alternative. He knew blackmailing Amanda Darlington was risky business. If Jack—or Julian—found out, there’d be hell to pay and not much consolation for him even if he still managed to thwart their plans to launch Amanda’s bastard sister into respectable society.

  Rob knew he was taking an enormous gamble … but he was a gambler by nature, wasn’t he? And what the bloody hell did he have to lose?

  Amanda was awake bright and early the next morning, filled with rapturous expectation. Jack had promised to come by at eleven. And by his manner of parting with her the night before at the Cowpers’ musical event, she had good reason to hope he was coming expressly to propose.

  Amanda was unable to keep from humming blithely as her abigail helped her into a very flattering morning dress of deep green jaconet muslin with a low round neckline that showed off Amanda’s long neck. The gown had elbow-length sleeves trimmed with wide white lace and another more narrow trimming of lace at the hem. The gown was simply styled, but the color made Amanda’s complexion glow. Or was that simply the result of her extreme happiness? she wondered, smiling into her mirror.

  It was true that Jack had lied to her about his amnesia, but now she understood why he’d done it. Perhaps she’d understood it all along, but she’d needed to hear him tell her he loved her before she could drop the emotional barriers she’d constructed. It had been easier to tolerate being without Jack if she could stay angry with him. But now that sort of self-defensive behavior was unnecessary. He was a good man, a brave man who’d saved her sister from sure death and shown her the sort of tenderness she’d always dreamed of finding in a life’s companion.

  And he truly wanted her! If he proposed to her that morning, he wouldn’t be doing it out of obligation; he’d be doing it because he loved her. And she’d say yes because she loved him, too….

  As Amanda went downstairs to the breakfast room, she passed through the entry hall and was astonished and delighted to find it filled with bouquets of hothouse flowers sent from various gentlemen she’d met the night before. It was gratifying to realize she was no longer the social failure she’d considered herself during her coming-out four years ago. She supposed Jack had been right all along. All she’d needed to do was relax and be herself.

  She read some of the cards sent with the flowers, finding the tributes to her “charm and beauty” flattering for the most part but not forgetting for a minute mat most of them were exaggerated or insincere and penned by men who would forget her the minute someone else caught their eye or someone else’s reputed fortune caught their interest.

  A small bouquet of bright blue forget-me-nots that was nearly lost in the profusion of roses and gardenias caught Amanda’s eye just as she was about to leave the room. She picked up the pretty bouquet, wrapped in crackling vellum paper and tied with a white ribbon, and detached the card.

  Darling Amanda,

  Even if I lost my memory again—God forbid!—I’d never forget how much I love you.

  Jack

  Clutching her bouquet to her chest, with happy tears in her eyes, Amanda floated into the breakfast room and discovered it quite empty. She found another note, this one from her Aunt Nan.

  Prissy and I have taken Samantha with us to the women’s relief house in Spitalfields I told you about. I know we’ve been going nearly every day since we arrived in London, but they are in desperate need right now of willing volunteers to help out. Don’t worry about our safety, as usual we’ve got Theo, Harley, and Joe to protect us. Samantha needs to learn about charity work, and besides, we thought you’d like the house to yourself today just in case you get a special caller … Don’t expect us back till dinnertime.

  Aunt Nan

  Amanda pressed the card against her chin, smiling like a cat in a cream pot. Her dear aunts! She’d said nothing last night. She’d been afraid to jinx herself. So, how did they know?

  Amanda left off wondering and ate a solitary and quite meager breakfast. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on chewing. She was too eager for eleven o’clock to come.

  Settled in the small ground-level morning room at ten-thirty, making an attempt at doing a little stitching for Nan and Prissy’s favorite new charity house in Spitalfields, Amanda was interrupted by Henchpenny.

  “You’ve a visitor, miss,” he informed her.

  Amanda leaped to her feet, her heart racing. It had to be Jack! He was early by an entire half-hour! She hoped that meant he was just as eager to see her as she was to see him.

  Licking her dry lips and pressing her hands tightly together at waist-level, Amanda tried to present a composed front. “Show … show him in, Henchpenny,” she instructed, not bothering to ask for the caller’s name.

  Still frowning, Henchpenny flicked a dubious glance about the empty room. “Are you sure you wish to see the gentleman alone, miss?” he inquired. “He doesn’t look exactly—”

  “Oh, don’t be a fusspot, Henchpenny,” she admonished him with a giddy smile. “Just show him in.” Amanda supposed Henchpenny was remembering Jack’s visit to Darlington Hall and wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to see him again.

  “But, miss—”

  “I’ve been expecting the gentleman, Henchpenny,” Amanda assured him.

  He raised a brow but withdrew, returning in half a minute with Robert Hamilton … a disheveled-looking Robert Hamilton with a swollen and bruised right eye.

  Amanda was so stunned and disappointed, at first she could not command her tongue. She was speechless.

  “Miss Darlington, you appear surprised to see me,” he said smoothly, removing his hat. “Were you expecting … someone else?”

  Amanda realized how foolish she’d been to assume any gentleman caller that came to the house would be Jack. Especially after her success at the Cowpers’ last night, it wasn’t inconceivable to expect several male callers in the course of the day.

  But Robert Hamilton couldn’t possibly be there to court her. He was Jack’s particular friend. They’d been introduced last night and had exchanged a few words. She’d thought him ra
ther morose and unkept, and possibly drunk, but this morning there was no doubt in Amanda’s mind that, despite the early hour, he’d been imbibing alcohol freely.

  He looked worse than ever. His clothes appeared clean but untidy, as if he’d thrown them on hastily or without care. He was pale and haggard and his good eye was as bloodshot as the bruised one. She could only conclude he’d been indulging in fisticuffs in some local pub last night after he left the Cowpers’.

  But he was Jack’s friend. He’d saved Jack’s life during the war, and that made his welcome unqualified.

  Amanda forced a smile and extended a hand. As he caught her fingertips and made a wobbling bow over them, Amanda gave Henchpenny a nod of dismissal. He left looking grave, but he shut the door behind him.

  “Will you sit down, Mr. Hamilton?” Amanda invited, gesturing toward the sofa. He sat down in a rather sprawled position with one elbow propped on the sofa arm and the other draped over his crossed knee. Since the moment he’d walked through the door he’d had a sort of perpetual smirk on his face. She supposed he was simply making a polite morning call, but his drunken condition and his cavalier attitude was quite disrespectful. She was confused and offended, but she was resolved to get through a civil visit with the fellow, then question Jack later about his friend’s strange behavior.

  “It’s kind of you to call on me this way,” she ventured. “I’m a little out of touch with the ways of London society, having rusticated in the country for the past four years, but I suppose you’ve come to … to welcome me to town.”

  Robert Hamilton leaned forward, uncrossed his legs, twined his fingers together, and dangled his hands between his knees. He leaned so close, Amanda could smell his gin-laced breath. “My purpose in visiting you this morning, Miss Darlington, as nothing whatsoever to do with welcoming you to town.”

  Amanda felt a shiver creep up her spine as a dreadful possibility presented itself to her vivid imagination. “Then why are you here? Jack’s not hurt, is he? Were you both fighting?”

  The smirk took on a contemptuous aspect. “There was no fight, Miss Darlington. I got my black eye by … er … walking into a street lamp. And as far as I know, Jack’s fine. Nothing permanently damaging ever happens to Jack, you know. He leads a charmed life. Even his misfortunes somehow turn to his advantage.”

  Amanda frowned. “You say that as though you wish it weren’t true. I thought you were Jack’s friend.”

  Rob leaned back and draped his arms on the sofa back. “I am Jack’s friend, and that’s why I’m doing him a very great favor today.”

  “Wh-what do you mean, Mr. Hamilton?”

  “I’m going to save Jack from shackling himself to an unsuitable female.”

  Amanda’s hands clenched in her lap. “I don’t understand you, Mr. Hamilton,” she said stiffly. Had Jack confided in this man that he was going to propose to her?

  “You understand me well enough, miss,” Robert sneered.

  “You’re drunk, Mr. Hamilton,” Amanda pointed out.

  “So?”

  “It’s making you rude … and reckless. I daresay you’re about to utter something you’ll regret.”

  “I’m only thinking of Jack,” he insisted with a grin that made Amanda’s skin crawl.

  “I assume you are expecting Jack to make me an offer,” she continued, eager to get to the point and finish this strange interview as soon as possible, “and you have come here this morning to express your disapproval. May I ask why you disapprove of me?”

  Robert shrugged and lifted his hands as if to imply the answer was self-evident. “You present a respectable front, Miss Darlington, but we both know you are harboring a bastard sister in your midst, meaning to palm the girl off to the polite world as your orphaned cousin.”

  Amanda felt as if she’d been hit on the head by a falling brick. She was stunned and sick to her stomach. How had this man found out about Samantha? Surely not through Jack …?

  She hid her growing terror and fixed him with a cold eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. Don’t play the dolt with me, Miss Darlington. It won’t fadge. Whether you admit the truth or not, it doesn’t matter. Once I start the rumor about town, your sister, Samantha, will be known for exactly what she is.”

  Fear and frustration crowded Amanda’s throat. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper as she said, “Jack won’t allow you to do such a cruel thing. He’ll, he’ll—”

  “What can Jack do to stop me, short of killing me? And he won’t kill me because I saved his life during the war.”

  “Julian—”

  “I’ll make bloody sure the rumor is started before Julian can get his hands around my neck. He’d be happy to kill me, of that I’m quite certain. But the damage will have already been done.”

  “No one will believe you. The Montgomerys are well-respected, and they’ll refute anything you say against my sister.”

  “The ton love gossip and are generally more likely to believe something injurious than something good about a person. They may claim to believe the Montgomerys, but they will still whisper and point and gleefully persist in believing the worst.”

  Amanda’s eyes filled with angry tears. “Why are you intent on exposing my sister?”

  “Normally I wouldn’t concern myself with such trivial matters. She could fool the prince regent into believing she was the Queen of Sheba for all I care, but I’ve found a way to use the unfortunate circumstances of your sister’s birth to good purpose. Your sister is simply the pawn in this game.”

  She swallowed hard. “You’re blackmailing me, aren’t you? You’re threatening to expose Samantha if I marry Jack. And I suppose you want money, too?”

  He smiled unpleasantly. “Besides being beautiful, you’re sharp as a tack, Amanda. Of course I want money.”

  Amanda’s brows furrowed. “I understand the money part. But I don’t understand the stipulation about not marrying Jack. He knows about Sam. He understands. He does not seem to find the situation an impediment to marriage. If Jack does not object, why do you? Why don’t you want me to marry Jack, Mr. Hamilton?”

  “Because, my dear,” he said with a malevolent smile, “I intend to marry you myself.”

  Amanda shook her head disbelievingly. She gave a strangled little laugh. “You’re mad. Why would you want to marry me? You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you’re rich.”

  “But you intend to blackmail me anyway, so why—”

  “My propensity to gamble won’t be cured by paying off my debts. If I married you, Miss Darlington, I’d control your entire fortune.”

  “Ah, I see. Then you’d have the ready to pay off future gaming vowels.”

  “Quite right.”

  Amanda stared suspiciously at Rob’s black eye. “Your duns are getting insistent about repayment, are they?”

  Rob self-consciously touched his swollen eye and winced. “They’re not very patient,” he concurred bitterly. “In fact, they’re getting rather more violent every day. As I said, Miss Darlington, I’ve really got nothing to lose.”

  Amanda felt the blood drain from her face. If Rob’s life was at risk, that meant he was more dangerous than ever.

  Rob leaned forward and slid an index finger along the curve of Amanda’s jaw. Repelled and angry, she jerked her head away. He laughed. “Besides relieving me of my pressing financial problems, marrying you enables me to take something away from Jack … something he wants desperately. Just this once, I’ll be able to show Jackson Montgomery how it feels to lose.”

  “And today, if he proposes?”

  Robert grinned. “Why, you’ll say no, of course.”

  Amanda recognized hate when she saw it. Rob, who had been posing as Jack’s friend for so long, hated Jack. And she recognized desperation, too. Obviously, Rob was at the end of his tether or he’d not attempt such a harebrained scheme as to try to blackmail her into marriage. He was apparently willing to risk everything … inclu
ding his own life.

  Trouble was, when a man was willing to risk his own life, he was willing to risk the lives of others, too.

  Chapter 20

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” said Henchpenny with the blandest possible expression, “but Miss Darlington instructed me to inform you that it will be impossible to see you today.”

  Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stood at Amanda’s door in his finest togs, with a forget-me-not boutonniere in his lapel, a foolish smile spread from ear to ear on his fresh-shaven face, and a heart full of hope. Now the smile wavered and the hope faded.

  “Are you sure, Henchpenny?” Jack urged.

  “Quite sure, my lord.”

  A possible explanation came to him that offered a bit or hope mixed with alarm. “Miss Darlington’s not ill, is she?”

  “As far as I can presume to say, my lord, Miss Darlington seems healthy as usual.”

  Jack lowered his voice. “Has Samantha done something to throw the household into mayhem?”

  “Not … er … this morning, my lord.”

  “Then why is Miss Darlington refusing visitors?”

  “She hasn’t refused … er … everyone, my lord.”

  Jack couldn’t ignore the obvious any longer. Amanda was shutting him out. Did that mean she was shutting him out her life … her heart … for good? What had changed since last night? Had she finally succeeded in convincing herself that she hated him instead of loved him? Jack refused to accept that possibility.

  “Very well,” said Jack at last, lifting his chin in a determined pose. “You may warn Miss Darlington that I fully intend to return on the morrow.”

  “I will relay the message, my lord,” said the expressionless butler. Then, just as Jack was about to turn to go, Henchpenny extended a sealed envelope toward him in an immaculate gloved hand.

  “What’s this?” asked Jack, his brows knitting worriedly. Sealed envelopes from females who refused to be visited were a bad sign. A very bad sign, indeed.