Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2) Page 2

  They arrived at a small but beautiful room with an oval table extended across its width. Multiple chairs lined either side. One plate and one set of silverware laid on the table. Bowls, serving platters, and trays piled high with food covered one side until it appeared it would lift and the food slide onto the floor.

  "All this for me?" she asked.

  "If you wish."

  She lifted her eyes to his face. "What trickery is this? Have you lured me here to torment me, allowing me to smell the food, only to jerk it away at the last minute? Or have you brought me here so you can kill me and roast me for the next woman you bump into on the square?"

  Victor laughed. "You have a fanciful imagination, my dear. I'm surprised your parents allow you in public alone."

  She blushed furiously and looked away.

  He stopped laughing, took his seat, and folded his arms over his chest. "Please sit and eat. Tell me more of your family and this sister of yours that you've come to visit. I don't often have company, so when I do I like to ply them with questions and receive long lengthy answers."

  The conversation between them lasted for hours. Before Amelia realized it, half the night was gone.

  "Talking to you has been a fascinating experience. We will have to do it again sometime," she said.

  "I would enjoy that. Now I'm sure you're ready to retire. I'll have one of the girls take you to your room."

  A slave entered and led her to the second floor. The door opened to a room of vast delights. A bed covered in blues and greens and rich browns encompassed most of the space. A dressing table with a small oval mirror sat in the corner. A wardrobe stood erect against one wall.

  "Use anything in the room you wish, miss," said the slave as she closed the door.

  Fear raced in Amelia's heart, and she ran to the door and turned the knob. The door opened easily and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  She changed into her nightgown and lay on the comfortable bed only to fall into an exhausted sleep. The next morning a bar of rose scented soap and a towel sat next to the wash basin. She locked the door and washed quickly. Dressed, she packed her bags and walked downstairs to the dining room.

  Victor folded a newspaper and placed it beside his empty plate. "Good morning. I trust you slept well."

  "I did, thank you."

  Shyness overwhelmed her as she sat at the table and filled her plate.

  "I would like to escort you to the hotel today."

  "There is no need–"

  "I insist. I will only escort you to the building so you may wait on your sister. If for some reason she doesn't arrive then you will know how to return here for another night."

  Amelia placed her hands in her lap. Her heart beat rapidly against her ribcage and she lifted her gaze. "I don't know how to thank you."

  "One day I will be the one in need, and you can repay me. For now, the time spent in your presence was thanks enough."

  Victor was as good as his word. He delivered her to the hotel and left her with a handshake and a bow. Words stumbled to her lips but nothing seemed adequate.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," he said as he backed away.

  She didn't move until he was out of sight. Drawing in a deep breath, she walked to the hotel door and knocked timidly. The young girl from the night before had been replaced by a kind grandmotherly type, who allowed her to wait in the lobby.

  Twenty steps crossed the length of the room, and Amelia would know since she'd walked it at least a hundred times. Worry knotted her gut. What if they'd forgotten her? Sure Victor offered sanctuary for another night, but Amelia wanted, no, needed to see her sister.

  The bell rang and she spun on her heel as Stephen stepped inside.

  "Amelia! I'm so sorry I'm late."

  Anxiety pushed away, she hugged him. Leaning back, and moving a stray hair behind her ear to cover her embarrassment, she said, "It's all right. Is it time to go?"

  "If you have everything, then yes."

  "I'm ready."

  Stephen led her outside and took the reins of a covered runabout from a young boy. The seats of black leather felt warm and she settled into a comfortable position and forced her muscles to relax. Millie described the journey from Walterborough's main section of town, to the outskirts where the plantation resided, as a pleasant experience but one where she would be jostled until it felt like her insides were going to dislodge.

  Jerking away from the curb, Amelia chanced to glance at the sidewalk. A few feet away, his hand lifted in a wave, stood a familiar figure.

  Amelia smiled, settled next to Stephen, and leaned back against the seat. She'd just made a new friend.

  Chapter Three

  Sweat covered his back. The rough log scratched his shoulder, and pain radiated along his spine from the extra weight. This was the last one.

  The two logs rested on the edge and created a ramp. One final push and the log fell into place, the notches connected. Charles dusted his hands and studied his progress.

  Situated on the vast Green Estate, the modest cabin began to take shape. After two months of effort, the moving in date drew nigh.

  Charles climbed onto the slab porch and took a seat. The rocking chair creaked and he smiled. Every board and stick of furniture, every log and piece of wood, had been molded by his hand. He'd denied all offers of help because he needed the healing provided by the hard physical labor.

  Dust billowed from the tree line and Charles strained to place the rider.

  Stephen drew close and tugged the reins. He dismounted and stood with his hands on his hips. "Amazing, truly amazing."

  Charles swelled with pride, feeling his head expand.

  "I hope you don't mind but Millie has a house warming party planned for you."

  Charles groaned and rolled his eyes.

  "Don't do that. She has looked forward to everything returning to normal."

  Guilt consumed him. Millie's pregnancy and subsequent delivery of twins had kept her out of commission for over a year. Just now, she was able to start doing more. He would be forced to accept her hospitality or risk offending her.

  Stephen surveyed the area. "Is there anything you need? When do you think you'll move out of the canvas tent and into your new home?"

  "Hopefully by next week. I put the last log in place so all I need to do is secure the shingles."

  "I'm impressed. Makes me want to live here."

  Bitterness welled inside. Sarcasm dripped from his words. "Oh, really? You want to leave your large plantation and move into my one-bedroom, two-room cabin?"

  Stephen shook his head.

  Charles sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck. He said, "Look I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Thank you for the compliments on my place. I'm happy with how it is turning out."

  Stephen walked around the house. "Who taught you how to build like this?"

  Charles stopped a few feet behind him and stroked the rounded logs. "My grandfather, Robin Vincent. He loved to build things. In fact he designed an addition to the Vincent plantation house but Mother refused his offer to actually build it."

  "Why?" Stephen asked, cocking his brow.

  Charles shrugged. "I don't know. Father never talked much about the past, said we should look to the future instead."

  "With a brother like Victor I can't blame him," whispered Stephen.

  Charles ignored the statement, and offered Stephen a tour. Stephen secured the horse to a hitching post, and Charles led him inside. He discussed the parts he was particularly proud of. "And this right here means the most to me. I hauled rock from the creek and made the fireplace, and the mantle is made from–"

  "Is this a piece of cherry wood? Millie and Amelia will love it."

  "What?" Charles' heart hammered against his ribs.

  "Did I forget to mention that Amelia arrived last week?"

  Charles' heart sank and his throat constricted.

  "Henri sent her to check up on me."

  Charles cleared h
is throat. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm fairly certain. His letters indicated as much. The validity of Millie's illness had to be confirmed by Beaumont eyes." Stephen scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. The past year had added worry lines to his brow and he looked older than his twenty-seven years.

  "I promised to bring Millie for a visit at least once a year but–"

  Stephen choked back tears and Charles looked away.

  Two years ago they took a trip to Louisiana to meet Stephen's pen pal. She had believed she shared her most intimate secrets with a woman by the name of Stephenie, yet a simple error in which letters were rubbed from the recipient's name, caused Millicent Jane Beaumont to send numerous correspondence to Stephen Green in South Carolina instead.

  When Millicent turned eighteen, her family held her a birthday party. Stephen arranged an invitation. He and several other eligible bachelors used the opportunity to vie for her attentions. Secret knowledge of Millie set Stephen apart and he won her hand in marriage.

  South Carolina had been a change for the young mistress but she'd adjusted well. Stephen's parents, Walter and Evelyn, and his sister, Delia, welcomed Millie into their home without question.

  The problems hadn't come until Millie became pregnant. Severe illness had ravaged her body. Unable to keep down food, doctors from as far away as Virginia came, advising her to stay in bed until the issue passed. This wasn't an easy task. The nausea consumed the young woman night and day. The family and the servants continually sought remedies to the problem but little helped.

  Millie was bed bound until the twins were born. The family gave thanks for her seeming recovery. She rebounded for one week only to collapse at the breakfast table. Just now, as the young twins started to crawl, did Millie behave like herself. The event had taken a toll on the entire family, especially Stephen who felt responsible.

  Stephen swiped the back of his hand across his face. Composed, he said, "Millie wondered if you would come to dinner this evening."

  Charles opened his mouth to refuse but Stephen lifted his hand to interrupt. "She wants to welcome Amelia in grand style, but she's not quite up to hostessing a full-fledged party. Or maybe it is me who is not up to her expending so much effort. Anyway, she agreed to hold off on the larger festivities but only if you agree to come to dinner tonight."

  Charles wanted to say no but the desperate plea in Stephen's voice stalled him. "Very well. I'll be there."

  ****

  Amelia sat on the floor. Her niece and nephew lay on their backs and played with their toes. Nathan and Natalie were six months old and the reason Millie hadn't come home for two years.

  When Father suggested she visit to check on Millie, Amelia had been ambivalent. She would go but she had no reason not to believe Stephen's claims.

  As the wheels on the stagecoach had turned, carrying her closer to her location, so had the cogs in her mind. She ignored Millie's letters of wellness. What if robbers had overtaken Millie's stagecoach and whisked her away? Or what if some rare disease claimed Millie's life? What if Stephen and Charles hid the truth to make her family feel better? Endless possibilities for mishap existed.

  Then the coach stopped in South Carolina, which was an eye-opening experience. The first part, of course, had been filled with meeting Victor Vincent. Since her arrival the man had filled her waking and sleeping thoughts. The line of his jaw, the rough skin of his face, the smooth skin of his hand. Yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't recall why he seemed so familiar.

  All personal thoughts of Victor had fled as Stephen drove up to the Green Estate and Millie had run out to greet them. Sunken eyes and hanging skin had covered her gaunt frame. Amelia had stifled an agonized cry as they hugged and her sister's bones poked into her even through her thick clothing.

  "I know I look poorly but trust that I've greatly improved," said Millie.

  "I'm sorry I couldn't hide my surprise."

  Millie had shrugged and they had walked into the grandiose manse. The inside reminded her much of her own family home. Multiple rooms dedicated to relaxing and enjoying company. An office cluttered and filled with literature. Thick curtains covered the floor to ceiling windows. Tapestries depicting family history lined a long hallway. Reed mats in various colors covered the floor adding warmth. Wallpaper from Paris graced the walls. Benches offered places to sit and rest. A spiral staircase led to the second floor that housed the family and a third floor that housed the servants.

  Before Millicent's arrival, Stephen's family had freed their slaves and encouraged them to stay on as employees. Millie had expressed in her letters that the transition had been a smooth one, and many of the men and women had stayed on.

  Amelia had been introduced to the family. Walter and Evelyn Green welcomed her into their home. Delia, Stephen's younger sister, had drawn her into a fierce embrace, thrilled to have another "sister" in her midst.

  The flood of memories ceased as Nathan crawled to her side and looked at her expectantly.

  Amelia picked him up and placed him on her lap. He cooed happily and pointed at his sister, who scrunched her nose as if dissatisfied.

  "You may join us," Amelia said to Natalie. Soon both children snuggled in her arms, their eyelids droopy.

  "I see you've done my job again." Millie entered the room, retrieved the twins one at a time, and laid them in their crib.

  "Sorry, sister, but they fell asleep on their own, and–"

  "I need the rest, I know."

  Millie tucked blankets around their tiny forms. Staring at the babies she rubbed their smooth cheeks with her knuckle. "Aren't they beautiful?"

  "Yes," whispered Amelia, hovering behind Millie and staring over her shoulder.

  Millie didn't speak. Silent tears coursed along her cheeks as she turned and left the nursery. Amelia followed.

  They entered the parlor and Amelia drew in a sharp breath. Charles Vincent, twenty-four years old, wealthy landowner, and the most handsome man alive, stared at her with his bright blue eyes. His blond hair lay in waves to the base of his neck. His skin glowed with a healthy tan. The room spun and she drew large gulps of air into her lungs.

  Charles smiled as he approached. The rogue knew he affected her.

  She lifted her hand and he placed it to his lips. "Welcome to South Carolina."

  Amelia swallowed. "Thank you," she said, in a hoarse whisper.

  "What brings you to the Green Estate?"

  The touch of his hand wreaked havoc on her system.

  Millie came to her rescue. "She came to visit me since I cannot yet go home."

  "Ah, I see," Charles said releasing his grip and moving away.

  Amelia forced herself to ignore Charles' rudeness. "Stephen, your children are gems. I can't wait to tell Mother."

  "We like them," said Stephen, hugging Millie to his side.

  In just the week she'd visited, Millie's natural glow had begun to return. Amelia's fears abated with each passing day.

  "How long do you plan to stay?" asked Charles, as he drained a glass of amber liquid.

  "Trying to get rid of me already?" asked Amelia.

  "Hardly. I just need to know how many nights I can expect to receive free dinners," he said a wide grin covering his face.

  Amelia stifled a laugh and cleared her throat. "Perhaps I can visit the Vincent Estate while I'm here, and you can provide us with a free meal."

  Charles stilled.

  In a strained voice, Stephen said, "Maybe Charles will give us the privilege, but for now I would rather keep Millie close to home."

  Amelia frowned, noting his change in behavior. "Of course, I didn't think of that. I guess a free meal at one table is as good as another."

  The conversation turned to the weather as they discussed going for a picnic and a ride later in the week.

  Charles' tense demeanor escalated throughout the meal. When she tried to draw him out with conversation he closed his mouth and flashed his heart stopping smile. Amelia's curiosity grew a
nd she determined to question him further.

  Immediately after dinner, Charles took his leave. She watched his departure from the parlor window. Some bit of information nagged at the back of her mind but she couldn't quite grasp it.

  Next time they met she would seek her answers.

  Chapter Four

  Stars shone brightly in the clear night. The cot squeaked as Charles struggled to find a comfortable position. Knowing Amelia would be there had not been enough to prepare him for her physical presence.

  The last two years had treated her well. She still wasn't as slim as Millie, however her extra weight wasn't a detriment, but rather an advantage, giving her a fuller, curvier figure. Her dark brown hair had been piled high on her head; one wayward strand caressed her cheek, and had seemed to beg for release. Her brown eyes had reminded him of the rich darkness of the cocoa bean.

  Rolling onto his side, Charles punched his pillow. Millie hadn't told her family of his misfortune. Part of him was glad, yet another part was not. This meant he would have the personal responsibility of informing Amelia he was destitute.

  The moon drifted across the sky. The sun rose and Charles was still awake. He kicked the blankets aside and shuffled to the outhouse.

  Afterward he took a quick dip in the creek. Dried, Charles dressed and went to work. He hammered the wooden shingles onto the roof. When he finished he dropped to the ground and stared at his handiwork.

  Last week, pride would have swelled in his breast at the accomplishment. However, times were different now as he viewed his work through Amelia's eyes. Compared to the Vincent Estate the cabin looked like a slave's hut.

  What would Amelia think of his new home? He really didn't know. The time he'd spent at the Beaumont Plantation hadn't allowed much insight into Amelia's character. At sixteen, she'd been little more than a girl. Amelia had been treated by her family like a servant and Charles had seen little of her. Their main encounter had been when she entered his room in the stables unannounced.

  Stephen and he had been preparing for Millicent's birthday party when Amelia walked in and stared at him with her mouth open. A smile tugged at his lips. He'd stood there without his shirt on, and she'd been unable to move. After that occurrence they had little time to communicate. Only once had he cornered her and tried to speak. Stephen had warned him away because of her age and his own hope of courting Millicent. When Charles had arrived home, the issue with his uncle arose and he could think of nothing save his own personal matters.