Page 75 of An Unexpected Earl

“Fate has given you a second chance, my dear. Why have you not taken it?”

Amelia lowered her gaze to her tea and whispered, “Because it’s impossible.”

Agnes patted Amelia’s arm reassuringly. “I understand impossible love.”

“Your bout of young foolishness, you mean?” Amelia changed the focus of the conversation away from herself. Gladly.

“A captain in the cavalry. The most handsome, most dashing man I’d ever seen in my life. And still is, despite over forty years of meeting all kinds of men since.” Even in the shadows, her eyes sparkled at the memory of him. “Oh, he was simply marvelous! A more true gentleman was never so lowborn.”

“But you didn’t marry him.” Amelia turned toward her on the stone bench. Perhaps Lady Agnes understood after all. “Why not?”

“Because he was utterly impossible for the daughter of an earl.” She took a sip of tea to fortify herself against old wounds. “I was meant to marry well, someone possessing wealth and status. My family would never have let me marry a poor army officer, no matter how much we loved each other, no matter how good a man he was.”

Emotions tightened Amelia’s throat. “You never considered defying them?”

“Heavens no!” she scoffed, as if Amelia had suggested that unicorns existed. “What would have been the good in that? My father refused to give permission for us to wed.”

“But you could have run away and married anyway.”

Lady Agnes shook her head. “Not in those days. There were no good roads to Scotland then, no money for us to book passage on a ship. And marriage in England was out of the question. I couldn’t marry here without my father’s consent. If we’d have attempted it, he would have demanded the marriage be annulled on grounds of incompetency because I was too young.”

“But an annulment would have scandalized you and your family.” In that, at least, she and Lady Agnes were different.Herfather had made certain that Pearce could never have wed her in the first place. “Surely, that would have been worse for your family than letting you remain married to an army officer.”

“You don’t know what my father was like, my dear, and my brother after him.” A knowing, bitter smile pulled tightly across Lady Agnes’s face. “They would have seen an annulment—and my ruination—as punishment for defying them. One they would have believed I deserved.”

Amelia looked away, unable to bear seeing her own pain reflected in Lady Agnes’s eyes. How many times did her father remind her of what would happen to both her and Pearce if they ever tried to contact each other? How often had Frederick blamed her for Aaron’s deceit?

“You didn’t wait for him?” she whispered into the darkness.

“I did, at first. But by the time I was old enough not to need my father’s permission to marry, my captain had been killed in battle.” She set her tea aside and reached with both hands for Amelia’s. “I lost the love of my life. I wasn’t given a second chance. Butyouhave been.” She rested her palm against Amelia’s cheek. “Do not waste this opportunity, or you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

Not waste it? Laughable! She had no choice in the matter. Fate hadn’t given her a second chance. Fate was laughing at her for ever daring to love in the first place.

Lady Agnes placed a kiss to Amelia’s forehead, then collected her tea and stood.

“Stay here a while. I won’t tell anyone where you’ve disappeared to.” She gave a parting pat to Amelia’s hand. “But don’t dawdle long. I need you as an ally. Lady Helen always finds a way to steer the conversation to Montesquieu if we don’t stop her, and I don’t think my nerves can tolerate both him and Voltaire in the same evening.” She cast a forlorn look back toward the drawing room and heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s like being stuck at a dinner between the world’s two most narcissistic guests, only to discover that there’s no pudding waiting at the end.”

Amelia gave a short laugh despite the stinging of tears that threatened at her eyes.

“When fate brings us love, we have to hold on tight with both hands and never let go.” Agnes looked down sympathetically at her. “Whatever you do, my dear, donotlet go.”

Amelia choked back a sob. If only being with Pearce were that simple! But she couldn’t fight her father twelve years ago, and she couldn’t fight the courts and the church now.

She said nothing as Lady Agnes made her way through the darkness and back into the house, but her hands trembled so badly that the whiskey from her cup sloshed over into the saucer. With a soft curse at herself, she set the unwanted drink aside, then dropped her head into her hands.

But for once, no tears came.

During the past twenty-four hours since Pearce had admitted to loving her, she’d cried enough to flood the Thames. Now, hopelessness ate at her, and she didn’t have the strength to let loose another tear. What good would it have done, anyway? All the tears in the world weren’t enough to dissolve her marriage. She’d given her soul to the devil the day she signed her name in the parish register.

With numb lips, she whispered into the darkness, “How could I ever have been so blind?”

Because she’d been in love. With Pearce. And needed someone to heal the wound that his absence had cut into her heart. Instead, Aaron had ended up shattering it.

Lady Agnes hadn’t experienced that. She at least had a chance at being with the man she loved. Amelia had never had that with Pearce.

Not being granted permission to marry? She choked back a strangled cry. If only that were the case! Frederick would certainly grant his consent to Pearce, now that he’d become an earl and a war hero, with a fortune to accompany the fame. After all, he’d so eagerly given it to Aaron, and he was—

Her head snapped up, her chest squeezing so hard that it forced the air from her lungs. Her heart stopped.