Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1)

  ~ A REGENCY IDYLL ~

  AMELIA’S INTRIGUE

  JUDITH A. LANSDOWNE

  Overlord Publishing

  overlordpublishing.com

  Copyright Declaration

  Text copyright © 1995, Judith A. Landsdowne

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Overlord Publishing. As was foretold.

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  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

  For my parents.

  CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  While Trevithick’s Steam Circus is still located in Bloomsbury in this book, in reality it was decommissioned several years before the year in which this story is set. Its presence in this narrative is an artistic licence that it is to be hoped the reader will excuse.

  CHAPTER ONE

  MR. ANTHONY ANDREW TALBOT had much to recommend him to doting mothers with daughters of marriageable age. As the only brother of the seventh Earl of Rutlidge, he possessed a sizeable fortune of his own, stood next in line to the title, and was known to be neither a drinker nor a gamester.

  “And he is probably a dead bore,” sighed Miss Amelia Mapleton, as she listened once again to her mother extolling the gentleman’s virtues.

  “Amelia!”

  “Well, even if he is not, Mother, there must be something wrong with him. If he is such a wonderful catch, why has no one caught him before now? He is twenty-nine for goodness sake and, as far as I can discover, has never offered for anyone. Have you ever actually met this paragon?”

  “Yes, I have,” declared Lady Mapleton with a decidedly determined look. “And I have known his mother forever. I am sure you have heard me speak of her.”

  “Yes, Mother, but it is her son we are speaking of now. He is ugly, isn't he? Or he limps? Or perhaps he is wall-eyed?”

  “Oh, Amelia, shame on you,” laughed Lady Mapleton.

  “I cannot help myself,” sighed Amelia. “I have heard him spoken of so often that I am heartily sick of the man and I have not yet made his acquaintance.”

  “Tonight you shall, my dear. Your cousin Robert has assured me of it. And if you do not like Mr. Talbot, then you will say so and we will not speak of him again.”

  Miss Mapleton, a slim, green-eyed young lady with chestnut hair, a pert little nose, and lips that were just right for kissing, was having a belated first Season in London, and this was her first evening at Almack’s. Having received vouchers from the dreaded Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, one of the exalted patronesses of the club who was indebted to Lord Mapleton’s aunt, Amelia already found herself a bit disappointed. Almack’s, though enjoying a reputation among the ton and the place for a young lady to see and be seen, did not meet with her expectations. The rooms were large, but without elegance. The music was competently performed but lacked flair and style. And the chairs, provided for mothers, chaperones and young ladies lacking a partner, were not many and old-fashioned besides. All in all, Amelia was not looking forward to the remainder of the evening.

  AT precisely ten forty-five, dressed in the knee breeches that were de rigueur for all gentlemen who wished admittance to Almack’s, with his neckcloth tied in a presentable if not ostentatious fashion, and his broad shoulders encased in a dark blue coat of Weston’s cut, Mr. Anthony Andrew Talbot appeared, crossed the floor with determined strides, and came to a halt directly before Lord Northampton. “All right, Robert,” he declared. “I am here. Now, why am I here?”

  “Tony,” Lord Northampton grinned, extending his hand.

  Talbot raised his quizzing glass and studied Northampton haughtily from head to toe. “I may or may not shake your hand, Robert,” he announced, lowering the glass. “That depends upon why I am here. You had best tell me immediately.”

  “Oh, take his hand, Tony,” urged Lord Bristol, whose conversation Talbot had interrupted. “And stop putting on airs. They don't make you the least bit interesting.”

  Mr. Talbot's lips began to twitch, hut he refused to smile. “Very well, Chet. But if Robert has brought me here to throw me at some silly chit, I shall regret having done it.” Talbot took the proffered hand, gave it a shake, and had his heartily shaken in return.

  “No such thing, Tony,” Northampton protested. “I have not the least intention of throwing you at some silly chit.”

  “Good, because I would have been forced to draw your cork for you had that been the case.”

  “Well, it ain't. Amy ain't silly, and she is not a chit.”

  “Devil it,” groaned Talbot. “I shall be going now, Robert.”

  “Oh no, you shall not. First you will meet my cousin, then you will dance with her, then you may leave. Please, Tony?”

  “Your cousin?” Mr. Talbot cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “I thought all your cousins were of the male persuasion, Robert.”

  “Well, there's one that's not, but she ain't a silly chit nor a milk-and-water miss neither.”

  “I see,” drawled Talbot with a hint of a smile. “What exactly is she then? A hoyden? A blue-stocking? Robert, she ain't already on the shelf, is she?”

  Northampton sighed and took Talbot's arm. “Dash it all, Tony,” he muttered, steering that gentleman toward the side of the room where his Aunt Catherine sat upon a chair amidst the other mothers of hopeful daughters. “If you and Amelia do not deserve each other! I am amazed it had not already occurred to me.”

  “Well, but it must have occurred to you, no? You have gotten me into this monkey-rig and dragged me out into the night.”

  “Yes, but I had a bit of help thinking of it. Never mind, Tony,” Northampton added as he saw interest spread across the handsome face beside him. “I shall be pleased to tell you one day who urged me to it, but not now. Aunt Catherine, you remember Mr. Talbot, do you not? I brought him to the Grove one summer while we were at Oxford. Tony, my aunt, Lady Mapleton.”

  Mr. Talbot bowed low over the lady's hand. “Of course she does not remember, Robert. That was years ago. But I remember you, ma'am. My mother speaks of you often and misses your company since she has been absent from London.”

  “And here is my cousin,” Northampton grinned, as that young lady was escorted back to her mama by a gentleman in a flowered waistcoat and shirt collars that rose stiff and unyielding all the way to his ears. “Amelia, may I make you known to Mr. Anthony Talbot. Tony, my cousin, Miss Mapleton.”

>   “Good evening, Miss Mapleton.” Mr. Talbot bowed politely.

  “I am pleased to meet you,” Miss Mapleton replied with a slight curtsy. “I have heard a great deal about you.”

  “No, have you?” Anthony asked, staring down at her with the darkest, most brooding eyes she had ever seen. “And what exactly have you heard, Miss Mapleton?”

  Amelia blinked, surprised by the impropriety of the question. “Why, I have heard that you are not ugly, do not limp, and are not in the least walleyed,” she said, smiling brightly.

  It was Talbot's turn to blink, and he did so with becoming style. “I fear I am expected to dance with you, Miss Mapleton,” he drawled languidly. “They play a waltz next. Do you waltz?” The dark eyes caught at hers an odd sparkle in their depths.

  “I have not been given permission,” replied Miss Mapleton primly. “It is a rule, you know, that a young lady may not waltz at Almack's until one of the patronesses has given her approval.”

  “Yes, and an idiotic rule it is, too. Do you wish to waltz?”

  “Why, yes, I do.”

  “Fine, then you shall do so with me. Do you have any objection to that?” He did not wait for an answer but stepped across the floor to Lady Jersey's side and held her in conversation. Sally Jersey stared at Amelia and laughed so raucously that Amelia cringed. In another moment Talbot returned. “Come,” he said, placing her hand upon his arm. “And do not,” he added, as they reached the floor and he placed his hand upon her waist, “count the steps, nor watch your feet, nor stare spell-bound at the ruby in the midst of my neckcloth.”

  “Pray tell, what is it you wish me to do if I am not to count nor watch my feet nor enjoy your ruby?” Miss Mapleton asked in her most scathing tone.

  “I wish you, Miss Mapleton, to smile, to meet my eyes, and to keep from stepping on my feet.”

  “Oh, you are the most abominable man I have ever met!” cried Miss Mapleton just as the music began and he twirled her off across the floor. “What gives you the right to suggest that I am incapable of performing the waltz? I was having a very good time this evening before you chose to waltz with me.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Talbot replied. “Pity Northampton should have forced me here to ruin it for you. Do not frown, Miss Mapleton, people will think you are not enjoying yourself.”

  “I am not,” muttered Miss Mapleton, looking up at him with a wide, obviously forced, smile. “I think you are odious.”

  “Yes, I thought you might,” nodded Talbot annoyingly. “The truth is, Miss Mapleton, that I am. Odious, that is. I have been for years, but it does not seem to prevent anxious mothers from throwing their daughters at my feet. Each year there appears a new flock of them for me to trample upon.”

  “And do you like trampling upon them, sir?”

  “Well, I am coming to enjoy trampling upon you, Miss Mapleton, quite as Northampton said I would.”

  Amelia stared perplexedly into Talbot's darkling eyes. “Robert said what?” she asked with a tiny shake of her head.

  “Had Robert not forced me into it, I would not have come tonight. I detest Almack's. It is nothing but a marketplace where the wares displayed are exceptionally high-priced. You will agree marriage is a high price to pay for any woman, Miss Mapleton.”

  The colour of Amelia's face, already heightened by the exercise of the dance, increased to an amazing degree at his words, and she attempted to pull away from him. “Let go of me at once,” she demanded. “I will not dance with you.”

  “But you will,” Mr. Talbot informed her, keeping his hold. “It would be most exceptional for you to leave me s partnerless, and the music not yet ended. You would, in fact, become the talk of the town for at least a week.”

  “And you?”

  “Oh, I should be the one gains their pity. Please continue to smile, Miss Mapleton.”

  Amelia, with a toss of her chestnut curls, followed him through a turn with a bright smile pasted on her face and trod down as hard as she could upon his foot. Mr. Talbot tightened his hold upon her waist, glared at her, and on the next step brought his shoe, with some restraint, down upon her left slipper. “Do not,” he murmured through barely parted lips, “put me to the test. Miss Mapleton. You shall dance with me to the end, though we both become crippled by the effort.”

  “You are a beast,” Amelia whispered, attempting to sound extremely annoyed, but knowing a hint of laughter came through as well. “I cannot believe that even Robert likes you!”

  “Nor can I, Miss Mapleton, but he does,” replied Talbot, his lips twitching upward into a grin. “Of course, he has never been forced to waltz with me. There now, we have reached the end of this delightful display already. You see, if you are patient, even the. most torturous activities come to a conclusion.” So saying, Mr. Talbot bowed grandly and escorted her back to the safety of her mama. He did not thank her for the dance. He did not offer to fetch her any orgeat to quench her thirst. And he did not bid her farewell. He simply abandoned her at her mother's side, stalked off across the floor, and, taking his leave of Lady Jersey, exited the establishment with Lord Northampton and Lord Bristol following closely on his heels.

  “What I think, Tony, is that you are by far too frightened of the ladies,” Northampton offered as he stepped down, hat and cane in hand, onto the flagstones. “Do we walk?”

  “Certainly,” answered Bristol, centring his new beaver chapeau upon his neatly cropped hair. “Fine night for a bit of exercise. Improve the appetite. Give Tony time to stop shaking.”

  “I am not shaking, thank you very much,” Mr. Talbot grumbled, fiddling somewhat spastically with his cane. “And I am not frightened of the ladies. I may despise the ladies and detest the ladies and abhor the ladies' little games, but I am not frightened of them.”

  “So there, Robert,” laughed Bristol. “Tony ain't afraid of anything in skirts.”

  “Good,” replied Northampton. “Then he will be pleased to pay a morning call with me at m'cousin's.”

  “He will not!” declared the gentleman being discussed in a rather loud voice.

  “Of course you will, Tony. You ain't afraid of her, and she don't mind if you detest her, and I would find it deadly flat to make a morning call there on my own. I shall have no one to talk to if you don't come along.”

  “Take Chet.” Mr. Talbot suggested readily.

  “I am already taking Chet,” Northampton replied, “but he ain't much of a conversationalist. Are you, old man?”

  “No,” answered Bristol, grinning.

  “See?” said Northampton after a long silence. “Nothing at all to say for himself.”

  They all three laughed and continued on together to where they shared a late supper, after which Talbot took his leave of them and strolled off on his own.

  MR. TALBOT arrived at his residence in Grosvenor Square and went straight to his dressing chamber. He shrugged off his finery and left it in a pile on the floor, then dug into the back of his wardrobe, seized upon a pair of buckskin breeches and a cambric shirt, and slipped into them. He buckled a wide black leather belt around his waist and went of in search of his oldest pair of riding boots. He was digging carelessly through a carefully packed chest in search of them when his valet arrived.

  “Whatever are you looking for, Master Tony?” asked Parsons, his fine gray eyes quickly taking in the manner of his master's dress. “You are not thinking of going back out at this hour?”

  “My boots, Parsons. I know you've hidden them somewhere.”

  “But, Master Tony. ’Tis already one o'clock.”

  “I do wish, Parsons,” Mr. Talbot announced, rising with the scuffed, battered boots victoriously in hand, “that you would remember I am grown now. The title 'Master Tony' has a distinct tendency to make me cringe.”

  “Well, I can't think why,” declared the white-haired valet, his eyes like shining steel, “unless it is because you know you are acting like a child and refuse to admit it. Sit,” he ordered, shoving the taller, slimmer, and younger
man into a chair. He then knelt before him and assisted him to don the boots. “Where is it you're bound then'?”

  “Only for a bit of a ride along Duck Pond Row, Parsons.”

  “I wish you would not, sir,” murmured the valet, standing and returning to the wardrobe to fetch Talbot's black velvet riding coat and his wide-brimmed hat, Tony only shrugged and pulled a chair up to the wardrobe. He stood upon it and lifted a hnely polished oak case from the top. Climbing down, he took the case into his bedchamber and set it upon his writing table. Then he strolled to the far end of the chamber, opened a book that lay upon his windowsill, and took a small brass key from between its pages, returning with it to open the case.

  “’Tis a disgusting place, and dangerous as well,” muttered Parsons, laying the coat and hat upon the bed.

  “Yes,” said Talbot, balancing the set of duelling pistols, one in each hand, then setting them back into the case and proceeding to load them. “I could think of myriad other places I would rather go. But if I'm to find what I seek, Duck Pond Row it must be.” He took both the loaded pistols, stuffed them into his belt, and allowed Parsons to help him into his riding coat. “Do not wait up for me,” Tony ordered with a slow grin. “I shall be very late, Parsons, and I need you to wake me at a reasonable hour. It seems I have a call to make.”

  “A morning call, sir?”

  “Yes, upon a young lady. You will not let me lie abed beyond noon. Understood? Now, be the good fellow you have always been and forget that you have seen me in this disreputable gear. I came home at one and went directly to my bed.”

  “Yes, Master Tony,” Parsons sighed as Talbot departed the room and hurried down the back stairs, making barely a sound.

  CHAPTER TWO

  NORTHAMPTON, having run tame in the Mapleton house for years, winked at Lady Mapleton as he ushered Bristol and Talbot into her drawing room the next afternoon, then strolled off to procure coffee for himself and his friends. By the time he returned, followed by a footman carrying a tray with saucers, cups, and a full pot of the steaming liquid, Bristol had somehow extricated Miss Mapleton from her younger morning callers and seated himself and Mr. Talbot one to each side of the young lady on her mother's violet lustre sofa. Northampton had the tray set down on a low table, poured them each a cup of the rich brown stuff, and with a quick glance around the room to see which young ladies had decided to pay a call, declined putting himself out to interest any of them and went to take a seat beside his aunt instead. “So, Aunt Catherine, how are you holding up?”