Amelia (Southern Hearts Book 2) Read online

  She didn't comment, but just stared at him. He couldn't take the expression of hurt on her face. He turned on his heel and fled to the stables. Inside the horses ignored his rant. He struck the barn door, and the wood rattled against the hinges.

  "What's that door ever done to you?" asked Walter Green.

  Charles faced Stephen's father. They stood at the same height, matched in strength and intelligence, only age separated them. Charles viewed Walter as his second father.

  "I'm sorry, sir."

  "I hear you've been saying that a lot lately. Why is that?" Walter sat on a hay bale and placed a strand between his lips.

  "A lot of different reasons, I guess." Charles shuffled his feet along the ground.

  "I know losing your family property has gotten you down, but sometimes when you lose one thing you find something even better."

  Charles nodded.

  Walter shifted into a comfortable position, leaning his back against the barn wall and crossing his legs at the ankles. "That's what I'm figuring for you." He tapped his chin.

  Charles studied the ground.

  Walter continued, "Do you know I started with nothing? My pa was a poor farmer who worked on Evelyn's family land. She was the prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi and I fell in love instantly. She didn't dissuade me, sneaking and flirting with me every chance she got.

  "When I could take it no longer I talked to my pa about marrying her. He told me to go for it. What did I have to lose, he said. I figured I had a lot to lose, mainly my pride but I went on.

  "When I did, something amazing happened. Her pa was a down to earth man. I stood before him, my hat clenched tightly in my hands and my legs quivering, and him being the way he was he used his gruffest voice and asked, 'What do you want?'"

  Walter laughed and Charles struggled to find the humor.

  "I know it sounds harsh but the old man loved Evelyn beyond measure. His wife died in childbirth and he never remarried.

  "Anyway, I opened my mouth to speak but I kept trippin' over my words. He stopped me, placed his arm around my shoulder, and said, 'The measure of a man is not what he's worth but rather what is in his heart.'

  "It took me awhile to decipher his meanin' but when I did, I approached him with a different attitude and he gave me permission to marry Evelyn. He taught me a valuable lesson that day."

  Charles leaned casually against a stall and waited for Mr. Green to make his point.

  "I know you've met a woman–"

  Charles opened his mouth to protest.

  Walter held out his hand to silence him. "Let me finish. It's obvious as the day is long that you've lost your heart. It's also obvious you're feelin' a might unworthy of the lady. But I'm here to tell you don't sell her short. Land and property don't mean everything."

  Between gritted teeth, Charles hissed, "Easy for you to say."

  Pretending not to hear, Walter continued, "You might think with all the land I have these things are easy for me to say, but the truth is all this land once belonged to Evelyn's father."

  Charles finally grasped what Walter was admitting.

  "When we wed he signed the entire estate over to me and even changed its name. 'Course the old man didn't lose out on the deal. I gave him two grandchildren and expanded his holdings threefold, and I worked myself near to death doing it so he could relax and enjoy his later years."

  Stephen had never said a word. Charles had assumed Walter's family had owned it, obviously wrongly so.

  "Look Charles, I loved your father like he was a brother and he made some mistakes, but I hate to see you ruin your life because of one of them."

  Walter patted him on the back as he left the barn. Light reflected off his gray hair, a smile tugged at his lips.

  Evelyn approached, hugged Walter, grabbed his hand, and led him toward the house. They talked comfortably, laughter floating back to Charles' position.

  Charles sat on a hay bale and cradled his head in his hands. Would he ever stop doing and saying stupid things? Would he always have to apologize for his behavior?

  He rose slowly and gathered his horse from the watering trough. He mounted and headed for the cabin. Envy consumed him as he glanced over his shoulder at the Green house. One day he hoped to find what Walter and Evelyn had. But he didn't think it would be anytime soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Amelia paced her room. How dare Charles burn her letter! He had no right. He'd given all those up when he'd allowed her to leave after their kiss.

  She lay on her stomach. The bed screamed in protest as she rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Afternoon light reflected off the swirled pattern.

  Maybe she should just go home. A simpler life of spinsterhood awaited her.

  On the other hand, enjoying the flirtation of two handsome, eligible bachelors for just a little longer held a certain amount of appeal.

  She rose and went to find Millie. Her sister sat on the nursery floor, cooing to her two children. "There you are," said Millie, looking up.

  "Were you looking for me?"

  "Earlier, yes. I have an idea–"

  Together they said, "Let's have a party!"

  They discussed the details for several days. In the study, Millie paced while Amelia sat behind the desk.

  "I know we've discussed large tents, lots of food, and inviting everyone from here to Louisiana but we might need to tone it down a bit. If it's too elaborate Stephen will say no but if we invite a few of the locals, he shouldn't object."

  Amelia wrote out a list of people to invite, placing Charles and Victor at the bottom of the page. She frowned.

  "What's wrong?" asked Millie.

  "Nothing, it's just that Charles and Victor don't get along, but I want to invite them both."

  Millie chewed her nails. "You know how relatives can be."

  "Yes, Charles told me."

  "That Victor is his uncle?"

  "Yes. Although I must admit that it seems odd to me. Victor couldn't be a day older than Charles."

  Millie laughed. "He's ten days older to be exact."

  "I-I don't understand."

  "Charles' grandmother, Vivian, had a baby almost two weeks before Grace gave birth to Charles. The two boys grew up together. That's why his–" she paused, "well that's why they don't always get along."

  "Can we invite them both?" asked Amelia hesitantly.

  "I wouldn't."

  "But what if I like them both?"

  Millie jerked her head upright. "Amelia, I can't invite Victor. He isn't welcome."

  "Why?"

  Millie wadded a piece of paper, realized her mistake, and smoothed it out. "I can't explain right now, but trust me when I say Victor cannot attend."

  Amelia crossed her arms over her chest.

  Millie continued, "I can't. You just don't understand."

  "Then explain it to me. I want to understand. Besides, if this party is to welcome me, shouldn't I get to invite whom I want?"

  Pangs of regret assailed her but she continued to push. Millie would eventually relent, and Amelia would have her way. Worry gnawed at her insides. If Millie acquiesced, and she got exactly what she wanted, would it be a good thing or a mistake?

  ****

  Charles sat on the porch in a rocking chair. The wind blew over him and he inhaled deeply. The scent of grass and wild onions permeated his nose.

  Flying debris alerted him to a visitor, and Charles steeled himself against his lost peace. Dust settled around Stephen as his horse shuddered to a halt. He dismounted slowly. Shoulders slumped he shuffled his feet and sheepishly handed Charles an envelope.

  Charles stood at the porch's edge and took the offering. "What's this?"

  "See for yourself."

  Stephen wouldn't look at Charles as he broke the seal and unfolded a thick sheet of paper. A fine script decorated the page. Skimming the words, he lifted his head. "A party?"

  "Yes."

  "You don't seem overly enthused. Don't worry about Millie. Sh
e's been improving every day."

  "That's not the problem," said Stephen.

  "Then what is?"

  Stephen stared off into the distance.

  "Now you're avoiding my question. That's not like you."

  Stephen massaged his chin. "Millie and I both said no, but Amelia was adamant, and since it is a party for her…" He stopped talking and shrugged.

  "Adamant about what?"

  "About inviting Victor."

  Silent fury welled within him. "Why?" he hissed between his clenched teeth fighting a wealth of anger boiling inside him.

  Stephen creased his brow. "The excuse she gave Millie was that she wanted to. Said she likes him or something to that effect."

  "Great. So I get to suffer because she wants him to come."

  "In all fairness, she doesn't know what he did to you."

  "And she's not going to know."

  "If you would just tell her…"

  "Why? So she can feel sorry for me? I don't need her pity, and I don't need her invitation!"

  He threw the paper onto the ground, and pressed it with the heel of his boot into the thick, moist mud. Stephen studied the mess and released a whoosh of air.

  "I understand your frustration, but Millie and I can't think of a good reason why Victor can't attend short of telling Amelia what he did to you."

  "What about all the other things he's done?"

  "Like what?"

  Charles drew his brows together. His fists clenched to his sides.

  "I know you have issues with Victor. I know he is not always the most genteel. Sarcastic, impolite, unrefined, obnoxious, always laughing at the wrong times, but other than those things and taking the estate from you, I can't think of one thing to pin on him."

  Charles crossed his arms over his chest. "What about the time he stole Delia's kittens and drowned them in the river?"

  "I believe that was an unfortunate accident."

  "All right then, what about the time he broke the axle on the wagon and didn't tell anyone. Your mother and mine almost careened off a cliff."

  "Poor judgment on his part, but he didn't break it with the knowledge they would use it."

  "Obviously, nothing I say will make a difference. I know what you're thinking. The reason I say these things is because of sour grapes, all because he took what was rightly mine. But I'm trying to tell you that is not true anymore. He had as much right to the property as I did. I've come to terms with that. The way he went about it was wrong, but truthfully, his father built the place. It should have gone to him after my father passed. But there is more to it. The man is evil."

  Stephen didn't speak. The thoughts of Amelia being in the clutches of Victor with no one at the party to protect her made him sick to his stomach. He had to go, if for no other reason than he was the only one who believed Victor capable of great horrors.

  "I'll come."

  Stephen gaped, "Y-you will?"

  "Yes. What should I wear?"

  Chapter Eight

  The guest list grew to encompass fifty people. Servants and family worked fifteen hours a day for weeks preparing the house.

  The Green plantation sported a large ballroom. Tall, oval shaped windows covered an entire wall. Crystal chandlers hung from the ceiling. Wooden floors gleamed. Candelabras with tapered candles decorated the tables. Wisps of smoke, from multiple fireplaces, filtered and spread across the vast room. The grandeur left Amelia awestruck.

  "I can't believe this. Mother would be in heaven."

  Millie giggled. "Wouldn't she, though?"

  "Even with all our big parties in Mother's garden, this party will be beyond compare."

  "Thank you sister, I'm glad you like it."

  Amelia hugged Millie. "I love it. Thank you so much."

  "Do not take this the wrong way but I have a feeling when you go home your coming out party will be skipped."

  Amelia drew her brows closer together.

  "I do have it right, don't I? You do plan on staying with Mother and Father? I've left, Cora will not stay, and you are the only one who will remain. Why would you have a coming out party when you have no intentions of leaving home?"

  "W-well maybe I thought of marrying locally."

  "Dear sister, do not lie to me. You forget I know how you think. You also forget I know who you love."

  "Shh!"

  "Oh, no one is listening," said Millie.

  "Everyone is listening!"

  Millie grabbed her arm and drew her down on a plush settee that hugged the ballroom wall. "Amelia, it is all right to love him, but you need to tell him."

  "I don't know what you are talking about. If you will remember correctly, I invited two men to my party."

  Millie waved a dismissive hand. "The one is only a passing fancy, a flirtation you can't or don't want to ignore. One which I hope you don't plan on using to make the other jealous. If you do, you're playing a dangerous game."

  "I plan nothing of the sort."

  Amelia turned away from her sister's probing gaze and studied the tables made up of long wooden planks lining the walls around the room. The white linen tablecloths covering them fluttered as servants hurried past. Would they have enough seating?

  Pookie, one of the plantation servant girls, skidded to a halt in front of them. "Miz Green, yer sister's dress just got finished."

  "Thank you. Let Misty know we're on our way."

  Pookie left and Amelia asked, "What dress is she talking about?"

  Millie grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet. "Come, you're going to love it."

  Amelia struggled to keep upright as Millie dragged her through long winding hallways. A set of double doors loomed before them and Millie pushed them open. Tacked curtains allowed light to filter inside the octagon-shaped room. Dresses hung by metal hooks from every wall. Haphazardly strewn about were wooden frames graced by various fabrics.

  In the middle of the room, a young girl stood on a stool, her arms straight out to her sides. A dress hung loosely from her reed-thin body. White pearl material caught the light and reflected colorful rays. Ruffles started at the waist and cascaded to the floor. The seams of the form-fitting bodice were lined with pearls. The sleeves puffed at the shoulder and tapered in at the elbow ending in a thin white mesh.

  Amelia opened mouth but no words came.

  "Do you like it?"

  Amelia hugged Millie. "I love it!"

  They walked around the dress. Amelia couldn't believe the creation of extravagance was for her. After studying the gown, Pookie and Misty escorted her to her room. She climbed inside a filled tub and washed the grime from her skin.

  Wrapped in a towel, she sat on a stool and allowed the girls to fuss over her hair. Arranged in a chignon several tendrils hung loose. The girls helped her dress. The silken material slid along her smooth skin and Amelia closed her eyes. Her palms sweated. What if she embarrassed herself?

  "Aren't you going to look?"

  Amelia opened her eyes. Charles stood in the doorway, his mouth spread into a wide grin.

  "Because from where I'm standing I see a vision of pure loveliness that I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss."

  Amelia swallowed, her heart hammered against her chest and she struggled to catch her breath.

  Charles held out his hand. She took the offering and tiny shocks raced along her arm. They stood face to face, his hot breath warmed her.

  "I should join the other guests," she said lowering her gaze to avoid his smoldering look.

  "They aren't here yet. I'm early."

  "Oh," she said gulping.

  "Your dress reminds me of something."

  "Excuse me?" she asked, and lifted her chin.

  "It reminds me of–"

  "The moonlight hitting the lake," Victor interrupted as he entered the room. Charles released her as Victor leaned forward and pecked her cheek.

  Charles' face turned ten shades of red, and he clenched his fists to his sides.

  "Thank you, Victor," she
said, looking at the floor and praying they didn't brawl before her.

  "You're welcome. I had to say something before my poor nephew embarrassed himself."

  Amelia bristled at the affront to Charles. "I'm sure his compliment would have been just as thoughtful."

  Victor frowned and Charles smiled.

  "We should hasten toward the ballroom, your guests are arriving," said Victor.

  Two arms shot forward. She studied them both. To choose one could cause a row. Attempting to fight the feeling of giddiness that two men found her attractive, Amelia avoided their offering and walked toward the door alone. Stopping, she said, "Aren't you two coming?"

  Both men offered to let the other go first which meant neither of them moved. Amelia placed her hands on her hips but they ignored her.

  Sighing, she gathered her skirts and walked out unaccompanied.

  ****

  "I believe our audience has left," said Charles.

  "I've never needed an audience to insult you."

  "True. You did some of your best work when we were alone."

  "Still bitter over your loss?" asked Victor.

  Charles shook his head. "Not so much."

  "I don't believe you," Victor said as he stalked into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

  Air whooshed from Charles as he sagged into a nearby chair. The encounter with his uncle left him unsteady and weak. He didn't have long to gather his wits. Victor was bound to pester Amelia. She needed him.

  Charles stood and straightened his clothing. Visitors entered the ballroom as he arrived. The band crowded into one corner and tuned their instruments. Servants wearing black and white garb loaded the tables with food.

  From behind him, Stephen asked, "What do you think?"

  "I think Millie has out done herself for a welcome to the area party."

  Stephen laughed over the rim of his glass. "She fears Amelia will go home and become an old maid."

  Charles' held his breath causing his chest to hurt. "Is she going home soon?"

  "Not yet, but eventually yes. She'll go home and do exactly what is expected of her."