Vows of Honor: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 6 Page 5

  She shook the images away. Where had they come from?

  Apparently, Lord Beaumont was saying something to her. “The weather is cold,” he said, “and the ground full of mud. The weight you are forced to carry is excessive.”

  Amelia glanced at her bag. “It is a bit heavy, but I can manage, thank you.”

  “I am not speaking of your belongings,” he replied, “but the weight which you carry upon your shoulders. Whatever you are keeping to yourself, the reason those two men chased after you and why you refuse to answer questions about who you are. That is the weight of which I speak.”

  “I do not wish to answer your questions,” she retorted. “Now, if you will please allow me to pass, I have far to go yet.”

  To her shock, the man stepped aside and extended his hand. “Again you have misinterpreted my kindness for cruelty. I shall no longer impede your travels, Miss Parker, and I wish you a safe journey.”

  Amelia looked at the road ahead. It suddenly seemed much more treacherous than it had before. She turned to Lord Beaumont. “Last night you referred to me as your possession. I will have you know that I am not some sort of chattel. Not yours nor that of anyone else.”

  The man sighed. “If I were to explain last night’s antics, it would only make things more complicated. Therefore, I offer a truce.”

  Amelia did not attempt to hide her suspicion. “And what would that be?”

  “You will not press me on my words and actions last night, and in return, I will not ask more about you — at least not concerning those men or from where you have traveled. Do we have a deal?”

  Light rain began to fall. Amelia brushed back a strand of loose hair from her face, but it stuck to her cheek.

  Lord Beaumont reached out and pushed it back behind her ear, a smile on his face, which sent a shiver of pleasure she had not expected. “I am not a monster,” he whispered. How could this man be so kind and his touch so warm one day yet angry and cold the next?

  She glanced ahead and realized she did not wish to travel alone, nor did the idea of walking in the rain appeal to her. “I agree with your terms,” she replied. “We will not speak of the past but only of the future.”

  “Agreed.” Then, to her surprise, he reached out a hand, and she shook it. What a strange thing for a woman to do, shaking hands like a man, yet she found it oddly empowering. It was no wonder men showed agreement in such a way.

  He leaned over and grasped the handles of the bag, and she grabbed it from his grasp. “I will see to that,” she said. She could take no chances; the letter for her aunt and the journal were inside it.

  He frowned and then gave a shrug. “If that is what you wish.”

  She followed him to the carriage and set her bag on the floor, glad to be out of the rain once more. Soon, the vehicle jerked forward, and they were on their way.

  Lord Beaumont studied her and a smile crossed his lips. Amelia hoped she had not made a mistake accepting his offer again.

  “Thank you, my lord, for stopping for me,” she said. “I did not wish to walk in this weather.”

  A gust of wind rocked the carriage, and Lord Beaumont grasped the handle beside him. “If we must spend the next few days together, let us drop the formalities. I am Christopher. Would you mind if I returned to calling you Amelia?”

  What harm could it do? “That will be fine,” she replied.

  As the carriage continued its journey, Amelia found herself gazing out the window as thoughts filled her mind. Not a week earlier, she was standing before her grandmother as the woman presented her to a man who wished to buy her hand in marriage. A man about whom she knew nothing and cared not if she ever learned a thing. Now she sat across from a man who she did not understand yet about whom she had an overwhelming desire to learn.

  Chapter Six

  They traveled for several days, and each night they stopped for food and lodging only to leave early the following morning. Although Amelia was thankful for the free passage, she worried with each passing day. Christopher began to withdraw into himself and became increasingly short-tempered, and she wondered what awaited him at the end of his journey to make him so snappish.

  He had asked her only moments ago about her destination, and his irritable tone set her teeth on edge despite the fact his anger was not directed at her.

  “Your sister works at Scarlett Hall?” he asked, growling as the carriage dipped from yet another large rut in the road. “How long has she been employed there?”

  “Several years now,” she replied, doing her best to ignore his glare and wondering if she should have kept her destination to herself. “I believe it has been three now.”

  “And you are certain they have a position waiting for you?”

  “Yes,” Amelia replied. “The lady of the house has already approved my hiring.”

  Christopher raised a brow but said nothing as he turned his gaze to the window once more. After their agreement on the road, he had kept his interrogations to her future and what it entailed, and that suited her just fine. Since she had little idea what the future held, lying would be much easier.

  “I have been to that estate on a handful of occasions, although it has been some time now. Lord Lambert and my father did quite a bit of business together. The man died several years ago, although I do not recall when.”

  He spoke, of course, of her uncle, a man she had only seen once before. The thought of that day caused her skin to grow cold, and she hoped the conversation would move on to other things. She had spent years pushing that horrid memory into the recesses of her mind. If they were brought to the surface, she had no idea how she would react. How would she explain a fit of weeping or a sudden need to wrap her arms around her knees and force herself into a corner?

  “Does your father still conduct business with the estate?” she asked, hoping to move the conversation along.

  “No. Father is ill and has been for some time. It was the reason why I went to…” his words trailed off. “It does not matter anymore.”

  Amelia turned her attention to the window once more. The sun would soon set, and the dark skies indicated the possibility of snow before sunrise.

  “Where were you employed before?”

  Amelia’s breath caught in her throat. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, where were you employed before?” Why was he growing angry again? “Who was the lord of the house from which you ran?”

  Amelia’s heart seized and her mind refused to produce a name.

  “You are the most ungrateful woman I have ever met!” he snapped. “You have been allowed passage in my carriage, yet you refuse to answer any of my questions?”

  “I answered what I could,” Amelia replied, doing her best to keep her voice even. “It is just that the last caught me off-guard.”

  “Off-guard?” he said with a laugh. The carriage slowed, and he pulled back the curtain to look outside. “It does not matter. We are entering Rumsbury now. It will be much too late to continue on to Scarlett Hall, so I recommend you remain in the village for the night and then tomorrow you can see your sister and go on with your life. Perhaps others will fall for your tales, but I do not believe even one of them.”

  How frustrating this man could be! Yet, he had been kind enough to see her safely to Rumsbury. “If I have somehow offended you, I am sorry. You must understand—.”

  “Oh, I understand quite well,” he said. “Women are certainly prone to make promises only to break them. To tell stories and make agreements only to not follow through. Why should I believe you to be any different?”

  Amelia gave him an indignant glare. “I made no promises, nor any agreements,” she said. “In fact, you were the one to make a promise to no longer speak of the past.”

  “You agreed to tell me more about yourself,” he argued, ignoring her point completely as the carriage came to a stop. “I am not the fool you believe me to be. I have tried to build trust with you, and yet you disregard me.”

  Enough w
as enough! One more moment with this man would push her over the edge of sanity! “My apologies, my lord, for upsetting you,” she said acidly. “If you must know, I have avoided your questions about my past for good reason. It has nothing to do with you, although you would like it to be for some reason I do not understand. I am in a bit of trouble, of which I do not care to discuss, and I am frightened. But keep your concern on your poor hurt feelings! Good evening to you.” With that, she grabbed her bag and exited the vehicle.

  Christopher emerged a moment later. “I did not mean—.”

  “No, you have said all you need to say. Thank you for the safe passage. May the good fortune you seek improve in someone else’s company.”

  Turning on her heel, she hurried away into the night, the cold breeze creeping beneath her overcoat.

  “Wait!” Christopher shouted. “Miss Parker!”

  She ignored him.

  “Amelia!”

  The wind carried his voice to her, but Amelia ducked her head and marched forward. The man had become irrational and angry yet again, but she knew it was partly her fault. He had done her a fine favor and in return she had refused to answer his questions.

  However, he would never understand the risk she would have taken if she had done so. She had already revealed too much. She was meant to hide away with her aunt at Scarlett Hall, and danger was already afoot because of her loose tongue.

  Amelia knew quite well the cruelness her grandmother could inflict. The two men at the hotel had been only a taste of what that woman was capable of. They may have learned where she had gone and already be in Rumsbury searching for her now.

  Christopher’s voice had long since faded as Amelia approached a man in a simple coat and worn boots.

  “Pardon me, sir,” she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering from the cold. “Do you know of the estate of Scarlett Hall?”

  The man smiled. “I do, miss,” he replied in a croaking voice. “I seen it once meself from the road. It’s quite the place.”

  “How might I find it from here?” she asked and then added, “My sister is employed there and has taken ill.”

  He gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry ‘bout yer sister,” he said. “As to Scarlett Hall, you follow the road outa town there,” he pointed ahead, “and in an hour or so you’ll come to a split in the road. Head right and follow it for another hour.”

  “And how will I know when I get there?”

  The man chuckled. “Ye can’t miss it since there’s no house like it. I’d not travel at night, though. Snow’s comin’ and the roads are dangerous. Too many highwaymen and all.”

  Amelia sighed. “Thank you.”

  Traveling after dark was not only dangerous but foolish, as well. Yet, Amelia was too close and did not wish to wait another day. She would simply have to be careful and keep an eye out for trouble.

  Pausing at the edge of the village, she stopped. She had been unkind to Lord Beaumont, and a part of her regretted how she had left things with him. There was nothing to be done about it now. She had no idea where he lived, except that his home was thirty minutes from Scarlett Hall. In which direction he resided, she had no idea.

  Sighing, she looked at the road ahead, or what she could make out of it, and with bag in hand, she made her way toward Scarlett Hall.

  Chapter Seven

  The carpetbag grew heavier with each step. After a while, Amelia pulled it against her chest and cradled it in her arms. The wind gusted, bringing with it large heavy flakes of snow. What she wanted to do was drop to the ground beneath the protection of one of the many bushes that flanked the road, but she was much too cold to stop now.

  How could she have allowed her temper to get the best of her? Christopher likely would have taken her right up to the door if she had not gotten so angry. Yet, what was the point? The man was no different from every other man she had encountered in eighteen years of life.

  Like other men, he seemed to find lying an acceptable action. Had he not given his word that he would ask no further questions concerning her past? Yet, what had he done but interrogated her like some constable in the search of a killer! He was no different from Ralph and his unscrupulous trickery to get a kiss off her.

  Why were men so deceitful? Did they have lessons with their tutors on such matters? A secret instruction of which men were only aware that taught them how to get what they wanted through tantrums — thus the angry outbursts she had seen in Christopher — and devious methods? It certainly would explain much.

  When Christopher had said she was beautiful, she had to admit that it warmed her heart to be thought of in such a manner. In fact, his statement had caused a giddiness in her that she had never felt before.

  Yet, he ruined that by referring to her as a possession. That term had frightened her. Did he believe that by allowing her to ride in his carriage it somehow granted him the right to own her? She was no object to be owned by anyone!

  Tired of these angry thoughts, she pushed them aside and concentrated on her trek through the cold and wet. A gust of wind forced her to hunch further, and she nearly missed the split in the road when she reached it, so she did her best to look ahead. It was dark, but the hedges on either side of her were darker and made for good guides. Otherwise, she would have walked right into a field and not even noticed.

  The sound of hoofbeats made her jump, and to her horror, a man with long flowing hair appeared in front of her. She considered running off the side of the road, but the man had already seen her. Was it Christopher coming in search of her?

  “Juliet!” he shouted, his voice with a distinct slur to it. He jumped off his horse, or rather slumped off it, and stumbled toward her. He was tall with a broad chest and blond hair, and he grabbed her arms with strong hands despite his inebriation. “I knew you would return to me!” He frowned. “Do you not recognize me? It is I, Hugh.”

  So, this man believed her to be someone else. “I am sorry, sir,” she said, wishing her legs would move. “I do not know you.”

  The man blinked and narrowed his eyes at her. “You are not she,” he said. “Who are you?”

  Amelia almost gave her name but had her wits about her this time. “Mary Limehurst,” she replied. “Would you please release me?”

  His breath reeked of spirits, and his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. “My Juliet left me,” he said angrily. “I have missed her terribly.” Then he smiled. “If you marry me, I will buy you whatever you wish.”

  There was no exception; all men were mad. Did her mother’s talk of love hold any merit? It appeared it did not, for men seemed to believe they could buy a woman’s heart.

  “I cannot marry you,” she replied. “I am already spoken for.”

  The man dropped his hands, and she managed to take a step back, but he followed her. Did he now mean to harm her in some way? “He is not a stable boy, is he?” Hugh demanded.

  Amelia shook her head. A stable boy? Why would he believe she was promised to a stable boy? The drink certainly took away any sense from this man.

  “Good,” he said finally. “They are evil. They will steal a woman away from any man!” With that, he turned and stumbled back to his horse.

  If she was not so terrified, she would have laughed, for the man struggled to mount the animal as it circled about, leaving Hugh to hop on one foot while the other was in the stirrup.

  “Stop now, you foolish beast!”

  Once he was mounted — after the fourth attempt — Hugh heeled the horse’s flanks. As he galloped past her, he shouted, “I will kill that stable boy with my own two hands when I find him!” Soon, he disappeared into the night.

  Amelia took a deep breath to calm her shattered nerves. How could a man she presumed was a lord of some sort — his clothing alone said as much — lose a woman to a stable boy? Perhaps in his inebriated state he had no idea what he was saying.

  Whatever the case, she could not stand there in the cold wondering such things. She still had to reach Scarlet
t Hall before she dropped from exhaustion. And the cold.

  Unfortunately, not five minutes later, her foot caught in a hole and her bag tumbled to the ground. At least it had cushioned her fall.

  Standing, she brushed at her skirts, which were now covered in mud, and picked up the carpetbag once more. She had come too far to give up now.

  One thing was certain. Be he stable boy, lord, or even the King himself, Amelia wanted nothing more to do with men. Perhaps spinsters had the right of it; no men to tell them what to do. That life held a sudden appeal she had not thought she would have considered.

  ***

  Christopher had had enough of women. In fact, he swore he would never speak to one again. It had been over two hours since Amelia had walked away into the night, and although he had been tempted to chase after her, he knew such an act would be futile. She had made her opinion of him perfectly clear, and nothing he said would change that.

  Taking a sip of his brandy, his fourth since taking a room at the Rumsbury Inn, he stared out the window at the falling snow. He had been surprised at the number of people who sat around him drinking and smiling as if nothing was amiss. As if the weather made little difference to their everyday lives.

  Although he recognized a few faces, he had given no more than a polite nod to indicate that he wished to be alone this evening. Luckily, they did nothing more than nod a greeting in return, leaving him to his own devices.

  The truth was, he was still angry at Amelia for her outburst, but a part of him feared for her safety. He hoped she made it to Scarlett Hall without harm. Perhaps he was less of a man for allowing her to make that journey alone, yet had it not been her decision? After her insistence that she was not a possession — what a foolish thing to say! He clearly had not meant what he said in that sense, but what woman would take such a statement at its word?

  After that argument, she had been the one to walk away, the third woman in his life to do so. Of course, Amelia was not his fiancée, but the fact she had left him hurt more than he cared to admit.