The Virtuous Ward

CHAPTER Ten

"Now, Amity, be sure to keep your hat on," warned Hester. "I would feel far happier if I thought you would actually use that fetching parasol you are carrying. The sun is hot and I fear you will come back looking like one of those bizarre natives from the colonies."

"Never fear, Lady Grassmere, we will be lucky to even see the sun on this gloomy day," Amity said as she peered out the front door at the lowering skies. "You mustn't worry and take full advantage of my absence by curling up with that new novel I saw you sneaking into the house."

"Hush, Amity," Hester said, her face flaming with embarrassment. "What would the servants think if they heard such talk?"

"They would think you were a sweet lady, just as I do." She kissed the wrinkled cheek and, with a wave of her hand, skipped down the stairs to the waiting curricle. She accepted Max's assistance into the carriage with a few words of greeting to Lewis, the tiger, who stood holding the horses.

Max waited while she settled her skirts and put up her parasol for the benefit of Lady Grassmere who stood in the doorway. He picked up the reins and Lewis climbed up behind as they started away from the townhouse at a sedate pace. He appreciated Amity's silence while he tooled his way through the streets. The greys were new and still high-strung and he needed full concentration to control them in the traffic. Once on the open road, he relaxed and turned to his ward.

"You are looking particularly charming on this dreary day," he said, taking in her toilette with a comprehensive glance.

Amity's dress was a simple white muslin, banded at the neckline and the edge of the puffed sleeves with satin the exact color of her hair. The sash was the same color and tied beneath her breasts with the ends fluttering down to the hem of her skirt. A cluster of peacock feathers was nestled in the ribbon that circled the crown of her wide brimmed white straw hat. The opened parasol was the color of her red hair and was lined in white. All in all she was a charming picture of elegance.

"One must be optimistic, Max. After all, you planned a picnic and I wished to dress for the occasion. It is my hope that the sun shall break through the cloud cover yet."

As if on cue the sun shyly peeked from behind the blanket of clouds, getting stronger by the minute. Amity crowed her delight and Max tipped his hat in return.

"Where are we heading?" she asked.

"I thought out beyond Greenwich. There's a nice walking lane near the river."

"And to what particular event do I owe this great honor of an entire afternoon of your exalted presence?"

"I was feeling rather restless and thought it would be an excellent excuse not to be tied up with my man of business. Besides it occurred to me that in two days time you will be a betrothed young lady and have little time for your guardian. Soon you will be too busy with plans for your wedding to enjoy just a carefree afternoon," he finished quietly.

"It's true," she said, her tone less than enthusiastic. "If Ophelia approves, Bancroft wishes to make the announcement at once. I had not thought beyond the betrothal, but there are I suspect endless details to planning a wedding."

Amity was silent for the remainder of the ride, noticing little of the passing scenery. She awakened from her reverie when Max reined in the greys and looked around her in wonderment.

"I hope you approve," he said as he helped her out of the carriage.

"How could I not?" She skipped forward a few paces then hurried back her face alight with pleasure. "It is beautiful here. The river in London is so full of noisome things that I find little enjoyment in viewing it. This is how it should look."

"Well don't just stand there like some fashionable fribble," Max said, arms akimbo. "You would have it that we sneak off on our own so unless you carry something I shall be all day playing donkey. Lewis," he flashed a grin at his tiger, "must remain abandoned with the horses."

Amity laughed and accepted the armful of blankets and cushions while Max carried an enormous picnic hamper. They walked up the lane until they found an open spot beside the river. Together they spread out the blankets amid much laughter as to the perfect position. Finally they were satisfied and Amity dropped to the ground, tucking her legs beneath her muslin skirts in a graceful gesture. She watched with pleasure as Max delved into the hamper and began to unload the food.

"Mrs. Putnam must think we are planning to be gone this sennight," she said. "Chicken and ham. Oh, Max, are those cherry tarts? I vow they are my very favorites."

"Not until you eat all your dinner," Max said, staring down his nose at her like some gruff nanny. "I would offer you some wine, but Mrs. Putnam indicated that you were to have nothing but the chilled cider."

"Blast! Was never a person so beset by people who have only her best interests at heart. Whatever happened to the willful orphan who could do as she wanted," she muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"She is eating a picnic lunch on the banks of the Thames," Max responded, earning a sniff from his companion.

They ate between bursts of conversation, enjoying the novelty of the alfresco repast. The sound of the water bubbling past was a fitting counterpoint to the singing of birds in the nearby trees. Despite the admonitions of her chaperone, Amity untied her bonnet and threw it down on the grass.

"You shall return with a nose all red and freckled," Max warned.

"I know but I hate always wearing a hat. It's wonderful to feel the sun on my hair." Amity lifted the weight of her hair from her neck and raised her arms to pile it atop her head. She looked up noticing the arrested expression on her guardian's face. "Max?" she asked in question.

Max shook his head. "It's nothing, my dear." He dropped his eyes from the wood sprite who sat opposite him. He was glad she had worn her hair down today. She had been wearing it bound up lately and he had missed the ripple of curls that cascaded down her back. He could never tell her that for a moment he had wanted to bury his hands in the fiery silk of her hair. It was less than a guardian like comment.

After lunch they put away the remains of the food and returned everything to the grinning Lewis who was tucking into a lunch basket of his own. Then with her hat in place and her parasol over her shoulder, Amity took the arm Max extended and they set off down the lane.

There was much to see along the banks of the river. Flowers abounded, growing wild for the most part but in some places tended by the women in the nearby cottages. Occasionally they passed a villager and then nothing would do but Amity enter into conversation, her face piquant as she listened to the respectful answers to her myriad questions. Eventually Max would drag her away, complaining that he was being neglected.

It was on their return that they spotted the boys. Max had been telling Amity about some of the antics of his brother just prior to his being sent down from Cambridge when he noticed that her attention was no longer on the story.

Amity's eyes narrowed as she watched a group of boys placing a squirming object in a small wooden cask. She raised her voice in a shout and the boys turned startled faces in her direction. After a whispered conference, the biggest boy raised the cask over his head and threw it into the water. Then with a shout, the boys raced away from the river, disappearing from sight.

"Hurry, Max," Amity yelled and, picking up her skirts, ran to the edge of the water.

"What is it?" Max said as he came up to her at a more leisurely pace.

"It's a cat, I think." Her eyes scanned the surface of the water and with a shout she caught hold of his arm, pointing at the wooden object bobbing a short distance away. "They put it inside the cask."

"Well, I fear, my girl, there is nothing we can do for it. If it's not drowned already, it soon will be."

Max's practical words did little to dampen her need for action. She flung an exasperated glance in his direction before dashing along the bank, following the progress of the cat-laden vessel. She closed her parasol and extended it over the water, hoping the cask would float nearer. The barrel remained tantalizingly beyond reach and her face took on an anguished expression as the wooden casket sank lower in the water. Max could not stand to see her suffer over the fate of the cat and he scanned the area ahead until he thought he had found a logical spot to execute a rescue.

"Come along, Amity," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along in his wake. "There's a place further down where the river bends. We'll try for it there."

Her face full of gratitude was reward enough for his insanity and lent wings to their feet as they raced along beside the river. Reaching the spot where the bank jutted out over the water, Max ripped off his jacket and grabbed a handful of tall bushes for purchase.

"Now open your parasol and give me your hand. No, the other one so you can see what you're doing. Brace your feet against mine and I shall lower you over the water."

Amity followed his directions, squealing as the hem of her skirts dipped close to the water. She kept her eyes fastened to the bobbing cask and was overjoyed to see that if it maintained its position she should be able to scoop it up with the parasol as it passed.

"Get ready," Max shouted in encouragement.

He extended his arm as the barrel approached and cheered as she reached out to capture the prize. Just as the cask floated into the parasol, the bank gave way underneath his feet and he lost his grip on the bushes holding him onto dry ground. Max's shout and Amity's squeal were lost in the sound of the enormous splash as both of them hit the water.

For a moment Amity was blinded but realized it was the soggy brim of her hat and with her hands she pushed it away from her eyes. She tried not to panic and struggled to keep her head out of the water. Her skirts hampered her movements but as she thrashed about she discovered that the water was only about a foot deep. She let her body sink until she was sitting on the bottom then turned to the sound of cursing coming from behind her.

Max lay on his stomach in about six inches of water, swearing steadily under his breath. He raised his head and he glared at the barrel still imprisoned in the cheerful red parasol which had grounded on the edge of the bank.

"Damnable creature!" he snarled.

"It wasn't the cat's fault!" Amity shouted in defense of the poor animal. "You were the one who let go of the bushes."

"I did not let go," he answered through gritted teeth. "You were too heavy to hold. You must have gained four stone since your arrival in London."

"What a horrid thing to say, you loathsome man." In her fury, Amity slapped the water with her clenched fist, sending a wave splashing into Max's face.

Amid sputtering and coughing he pushed himself to his hands and knees and launched himself at the girl, catching her up in a bear hug. They rolled over and over in the shallow water like children at play. Amid light-hearted shrieks, they splashed each other until they were both breathless from laughing. Finally, in exhaustion Amity lay gasping in the circle of Max's arms.

"Oh, my adorable Amity," he whispered, staring down into her face.

She had never looked more beautiful, he thought, caught in a spell of wonder. Water ran like tears down her flushed cheeks and her eyes sparkled with mischief. Without conscious thought, he lowered his head, his lips softly covering hers in the tenderest of kisses. He felt her body shiver at the contact but then she sighed in contentment.

Amity enjoyed the feel of Max's lips against her own, reminded again of Bancroft's sweet salutation. Then his mouth shifted and there was a new urgency to his embrace. His lips sucked at hers, demanding a response, and they parted beneath the pressure. The touch of his tongue jolted her with a sweep of sensations that threatened to engulf her. Her heart pounded in her ears and she tightened her grasp around his shoulders as her stomach fluttered with the sensation of falling. Her body rippled with waves of excitement and she moaned at the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

The sound echoed across the water and Amity was stunned into a realization of the impropriety of her actions. She pushed against Max's chest and his arms released her as if he too was aware of his improper behavior.

"Forgive me, Amity," he whispered.

Amity refused to think about the emotions Max's kiss had raised in her breast. She knew she had behaved immodestly in accepting his embrace and now only wanted to break the awkwardness that would ensue if she gave in to any missish sentiments.

"Please, Max," she reached out to place her hand on his chest. "It was the joy of the moment. A kiss between friends. We are friends, are we not?" she asked.

"We are indeed, my dear." Max felt doubly guilty under the lightness of her tone. It was apparent she wished to restore their relationship and he could only applaud her actions. There would be time later to analyze what had occurred but for now he must put the episode behind him. He lifted her hand from his chest and kissed it with clownish enthusiasm, earning a shaky giggle for his playacting. "Come, my bedraggled mermaid. It is time to seek dry land."

He struggled to his feet then extended a hand to help her out of the water. They scrambled up the bank, standing dripping on the bank. Max looked her up and down and amusement erased his feeling of embarrassment. He began to chuckle and, at the outraged dignity on Amity's face, threw his head back in great yelps of laughter. Amity looked down at herself and groaned in dismay. The once white dress was now stained with mud and there were places where the red ribbons had bled onto the white material. Ignoring his amusement, she pulled the parasol out of the water and dumped the barrel on dry land. Then she turned to face Max and spun the sunshade, enveloping him in a fine mist of spray.

"Cheeky wench," Max muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"You can scarcely laugh at me, you gudgeon, looking as you do."

He eyed his cream-colored trousers which were soaked and streaked with mud. The lace at his wrists drooped over his hands and his once crisp cravat snaked down his chest like something long dead. Imagining Wilberforce's horrified expression, he began to chuckle anew. He squished across the grass to retrieve his jacket and placed it over Amity's shoulders with a flourish.

"Your cloak, madam," he said, making her an elegant leg.

She raised her dripping skirts and bobbed a curtsy. Then she flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder and repositioned her hat on her head. The brim flopped in front of her eyes and hearing Max's choked laughter she giggled and removed the offending object.

"Just wait until Lady Grassmere sees what I've done to my new bonnet," she mumbled.

"I fear Cousin Hester will go into spasms if she sees either of us," he said, rolling his eyes and wiggling his eyebrows. "And all for the sake of a cat."

"The cat!" Amity shrieked, dropping down beside the cask in order to free the poor animal. Max knelt beside her, prying open the top. The cat sprang out of the barrel in a burst of hissing and clawing.

In the bright afternoon sunlight the cat was a far from prepossessing sight. She was fat with a face that looked too sly to be pleasing. Her ginger-colored fur was wet and stood up in spiky patches along her back. Her grey-brown eyes narrowed as she lunged out at the person nearest to her.

"Steady on, you beast," Max snapped as the infuriated ball of sodden fur swiped at him.

Amity chuckled at his insulted tone. "She does not know you are a true hero," she apologized.

"Ungrateful hussy," he sneered. "I shall have none of her either."

He pushed himself to his feet and helped Amity up, pulling her hand through his arm. He started back down the lane, trying to ignore the squelching sounds his boots made at every step. "We shall pretend that nothing is amiss and then we should be able to pass quite unnoticed."

Amity stared at him open-mouthed, but as he peered at her out of the corner of his eye, she once more started to giggle. "For a moment there, I almost believed you."

"Ah, well, I suspect we are in for a dreadful scold, so I see little to be gained by worrying about it."

They both agreed and continued on their way, chatting amiably until they arrived at the carriage and Lewis, gape-mouthed in astonishment.

"So much for your theory," Amity said. "You can explain while I get the cat. Come here, Ginger."

"Don't tell me that miserable excuse for a feline has followed us," Max burst out in exasperation. He glared down at the matted fur of the ginger cat, hardening his heart at the woebegone look on its feline face. "I much preferred it in the barrel."

Amity dropped to the ground, scooping up the bedraggled cat and cuddling against her damp bosom. "Oh, Max, I suspect that it's just hungry and alone."

"Don't say it," he warned. "I don't care if it needs a good home." Then at the appeal in her eyes, he threw up his hands in resignation. "All right, but only if you promise to keep it in the storeroom."

"It'll chase the chickens!" she argued.

"What chickens?" he shouted. "Devil take it, you baggage! Just keep it out of my sight." For a moment his eyes narrowed as he caught the glint of smugness on the cat's face but he shook his head at his own fancy.

Lewis, his eyes shifting back and forth between the brangling couple, was hard pressed to keep from laughing. Suspecting his master's humor might be strained to the edge, he held his tongue all the way back to town.

Max took a circuitous route through the city, avoiding the better sections where they were least likely to run into someone they knew. Instead of pulling up in front of the townhouse, he brought the curricle into the mews. He ignored the stares of the servants as he removed the cat from Amity's lap and presented it to Lewis with orders to see to its care. Then with unhurried formality, he handed Amity to the ground, leading her through the garden to the kitchen entrance. There, unfortunately, their luck ran out.

"Miss Amity!" Betta gasped, knocking over her tea in her haste to rise.

"Your lordship!" Wilberforce chimed in, followed by a chorus of excited voices.

Drawing on centuries of arrogant ancestors, Max stared around the room until the hubbub subsided. Then in stentorian tones he snapped out a series of orders that left the inhabitants of the room scurrying to comply. Finished, he extended his hand to Amity and ushered her up the backstairs with great dignity. Once in the upstairs hall his composure cracked and he let out a great sigh of relief.

"Run along now, before Cousin Hester sees you or she will fall down in fits."

"I hope Wilberforce does not scold you too badly," she whispered. Then standing on tiptoe she kissed his cheek. "Thank you for the memorable day, Max."

She scampered down the hall, before Max could even lift his hand to touch the spot where her lips had touched his cheek. His face unreadable, he turned in the opposite direction toward his room.

Knowing that soon Betta would be along, Amity began to strip off her wet clothing. She wrapped herself in a dressing gown and curled up in a chair until her abigail called to tell her the bath was ready. She sighed in pure happiness as she sank into the hot water. While she bathed she told Betta about rescuing the cat, avoiding the questioning look in her friend's eye at the end of the recital.

By the time she was finished drying her hair, shadows had lengthened in the room and Betta hurried to light the candles. When Amity requested a tray in her room, explaining that she planned to go to bed early after the excitement of the day, the abigail looked surprised but made no comment. She gathered the wet clothing in a bundle and slipped out the door.

Alone at last, Amity piled the pillows against the headboard and climbed into bed. She pulled the comforter up to her chin as a large tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and slipped down her cheek. She had held herself under such tight control that now she gave in to the pain that engulfed her. As if the floodgates had been opened, more and more tears fell, until the edge of the comforter was soaked. Amity cried for several minutes, then on a shuddering sigh, she began to gain control of the situation.

The source of her anguish was the certain knowledge that she was in love with Max. She had realized it the moment his lips touched hers in the shattering kiss in the river. She had known it then, at the same time that she accepted the fact that he did not love her. He had kissed her out of joy, in the happiness of the moment. If he thought of her at all, it was with slight annoyance that she had intruded on his life.

In their many talks, she had come to understand what Max wanted in a wife. He wanted a woman who could act the lady, conduct herself with dignity and not intrude on his affairs. For a moment she considered the possibility that he might one day see her as a perfect lady but her mouth curled up in an ironic smile as she realized the impossibility of her ever playing that role. She was too honest to counterfeit virtues she did not have and the qualities she possessed did not include the ones Max considered of highest priority. He would never see her as anything but a shatterbrained, hurly-burly girl. For Max, the perfect lady was Honoria Waterston.

In despair Amity wondered what she should do. In two days time she would be betrothed to Bancroft Paige. She had thought that she might learn to love Bancroft, but Max's kiss had shown her the emotional upheaval of real love. Since she did not love him, was it fair to marry Bancroft? In a moment of perception, she realized that he did not require her love. He wanted a wife and she would be a good one. She had already given her heart, but she could strive to be the helpmate that he needed. She would be kind to his sister, bear his children and try to be a docile and loving wife. Her life would be fruitful and gratifying without the painful emotions engendered by love.

Amity curled up beneath the covers, turning her face into the pillow. She remembered the first time she had seen Max and the pain she had felt at his rejection. She had survived then and she would most survive now. Sleep came slowly, easing the ache in her heart.