The Virtuous Ward

CHAPTER Twelve

The teacup dropped from Amity's nerveless fingers, hitting once against the edge of the table before it toppled to the carpet. She opened her mouth to call a warning as the top of the wicker basket opened farther but the words froze on her tongue. In slow motion the top raised and slid sideways onto the floor. With a loud hiss and a scrabbling of claws on the reedy sides, the ginger cat exploded from its wicker prison. She sprang into the air and with balletic grace landed in the very center of the tea table between the tea service and the pastries.

For a moment nobody moved, so transfixed were they by the unexpected apparition. Ginger swung her head, eyeing the tarts topped with cream. The tip of her rough tongue shown between her teeth and she lowered her head toward the plate. The slight movement broke the spell. Max rose to his feet at the same time that Amity made a desperate lunge for the animal, knocking the pitcher of cream over on the tray. The clattering sound upset the cat and she sprang from the table, clearing the teapot by inches and landing in Ophelia's lap.

"Oh! Oh!" Ophelia shrieked, making frantic flailing motions at the animal. "Get this beast away from me!"

At the sudden commotion, the recumbent Muffin raised his shaggy head. The sight of the bristling cat started an ominous growling rumble deep in his throat and he lumbered to his feet. When the dog attempted to bound into the fray, Amity threw her arms around his neck, holding him by sheer strength against her legs.

"Oh help!" Ophelia cried, her spine pressed to the back of the settee and her face set in a grimace of loathing.

"Allow me, Lady Paige," Max said, his voice coaxing as he reached for the ginger cat. "Naughty puss. Not you, Lady Paige. I was referring to the cat."

At Max's words, Amity felt a bubble of hysteria rising to her throat and buried her face in Muffin's coat. As if things weren't bad enough already, the dog decided he would enter the melee, and let loose with a chorus of deep barks. Amity patted his back, trying to calm him.

Looking around the room she was surprised to see that Max was the only one attempting to help. He was trying to pry the cat's claws from the fabric of Ophelia's dress. Bancroft who might have made some push to be of assistance, stood unmoving beside the settee as if he had been turned to stone. Lady Grassmere had dropped her needlework in her lap and was watching the whole proceedings, with the same interest she might have given to a stage play.

"Ah, that's got it," Max said as he released the last claw from Ophelia's skirt. As he picked up the cat, Muffin subsided, dropping once more to the floor where he emitted low growling noises to show his disapproval. "Here, Putnam. Remove Ginger to some other place, if you please."

He handed the cat to the red-faced butler who had come running at the sound of the uproar. Holding the cat warily between his gloved hands, Putnam extended his arms straight from the shoulder and retreated into the hall with great solemnity.

"There. I think that will be the end of that. My heartfelt apologies," Max said as he turned back to the room. "I can't imagine how that dreadful animal managed to get into the basket. No harm done. Allow me, my dear," he said leaning over to wipe the spilled cream from the silver tray.

Amity snatched the white handkerchief from her guardian's hand, her eyes narrowed in speculation. Turning to Lady Paige, she blotted a few spots on the woman's dress. Ophelia was breathing with great gasps and Amity wondered if she would be wise to offer her smelling salts. Aside from the heavy breathing, the tense silence in the room was almost palpable but she was too embarrassed to think of anything to say that might mitigate the disaster.

"A cat! Such a sly nasty creature. Can't abide them. It is inconceivable why anyone would permit animals to run tame in one's house," Ophelia snapped. "In the country there is some excuse for their presence but in town their existence is beneath notice."

"Again I apologize, Lady Paige," Max said, hovering over the distraught woman. "That you should have been so discomposed by the cat, I find quite unforgivable. Amity and I rescued her several days ago from a watery grave in the Thames. My ward has such compassion for the plight of animals in distress. You would barely recognize that feisty creature for the sodden feline we brought home. It must gladden your heart to see it so restored to health."

"I find its return to health no cause for celebration. Neither Bancroft or I approve of house pets," Ophelia said dampeningly. "Isn't that right, brother?"

"Sister feels. That is, I feel," he said looking somewhat harried as he brushed the golden curls away from his forehead, "that animals breed all sorts of diseases and by and large are quite filthy. I was never permitted to have a pet in the house and once the reasoning was explained to me, I concurred with the decision with heart whole."

Muffin made a snuffling sound in his sleep and Amity leaned over to stroke his fur. Frowning, she stared down at the friend of her childhood, wondering how she could have survived her lonely years without his presence. It was apparent that if she wished to marry Bancroft, she would be forced to give up the companionship of her dog. At that realization the lines in her forehead smoothed out and when she raised her head, her face was serene. She folded her hands in her lap as the silence lengthened around her.

"My dog is neither filthy nor a carrier of any disease. I have always kept him in the house near to me," she said quietly. She stared up at Bancroft, her words clearly issuing a challenge.

He cleared his throat, his glance shifting to his sister who sat like some carved image of the God of Wrath. He studied her mouth, pinched in condemnation, and her eyes, dark with purpose, then his eyes swung back to Amity and there was a deep sadness within their depths. "I am sure he is a noble animal, my dear, but his place is not in the house. I am very sorry."

No one moved in the room and in the quiet his words took on a more doleful significance. Amity's blue eyes glittered as she studied the man who had asked for her hand. Then with a brisk nod of her head, she spoke.

"I am very sorry too," she said. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to Ophelia and held out her hand in a graceful gesture. "Thank you so much for coming today, Lady Paige. It was a pleasure getting to know you better. I know you will have other calls to make, so we shall not keep you. Perhaps we shall run into each other at another time."

Ophelia blinked her eyes several times in her surprise as Amity helped her to her feet. They faced each other and their eyes acknowledged what neither of them wished put into words. A glimmer of satisfaction flitted across the older woman's face, quickly replaced by her usual disapproving frown. She reached out for her brother's arm and in a calm voice said her good days. With the clearly bewildered Bancroft in toe, Ophelia sailed into the hall.

The salon doors closed and Amity dropped once more onto the settee, contemplating the calamitous events of the tea party. She could not believe that so much had gone wrong. Even before Ginger made her unexpected appearance, it was apparent that Ophelia was not thrilled by her brother's choice of a bride. And Max's behavior had done nothing but exacerbate an already difficult situation. She raised her eyes to her guardian who was leaning against the mantelpiece. He shuttered his eyes but not before she surprised a look of satisfaction within the green depths.

"Well," Hester said. "This has been a most interesting affair."

Unused to Lady Grassmere offering any comment both Amity and Max were surprised at the woman's statement. Normally the little chaperone sat in the room but rarely ventured an opinion so that now they both sat at attention as if waiting for an oracle to offer some enlightening prediction.

"A very tiresome woman, Ophelia Paige," Hester continued. "I do find her presence quite overpowering. Even as a child, she was a great trial to her mother. It is no wonder she has never married."

"I didn't realize you did not care for Ophelia," Amity said.

"She's always been a bit high in the instep for my taste. Your sharp tongue would have been quite wasted on Bancroft, my dear," Hester said, smiling across at Amity. "Like his sister, he has little humor."

"You don't mind that I will not be marrying Bancroft?" Amity asked in surprise.

"Quite to the contrary. He was not the person I had in mind at all," Hester said. "I was surprised that the situation had gotten so far out of hand. It seemed for a time that I might have to speak to your guardian. Thankfully this extreme measure was not necessary."

Much to Amity's bewilderment, Max threw back his head in a great shout of laughter. His green eyes sparkled as he traded intelligence with the old woman in grey.

Lady Grassmere smiled at the handsome man. He had always been her favorite. With precision she folded her needlework. "You always were an inventive lad, Maxwell. My concern was that you left it so long. I was not positive you would come to your senses before it was too late."

"I was not as perceptive as you, Cousin Hester," Max said as he rose. He crossed the carpet and helped the little woman out of her chair. Much to her surprise and obvious gratification, he leaned down and kissed her wrinkled cheek. "Perhaps you would care to take a lie down while I talk to Amity. In fact, I would not be surprised if Muffin is not in need of a rest after such a fatiguing assault on our ears." By main force he managed to get the sleepy dog to his feet and practically carried him to the door. Panting from the exertion, he turned to Hester. "Perhaps we might all gather later for a celebratory dinner," he said as he eased the chaperone and Muffin out the doors.

"A splendid idea, dear boy," Hester said, eyes sparkling as she nudged the reluctant dog into the hall.

As the doors closed behind Cousin Hester and Muffin, the smile faded from Max's face and he turned to stare at Amity who was looking stunned by the proceedings. He rocked back and forth on the carpet, his hands behind his back, as he debated how best to broach the subject. He found no difficulty in discussing the aborted betrothal but he had no idea if it was too soon to mention his own feelings.

Amity was mystified by the conversation between Lady Grassmere and her guardian. As she peeked at Max from behind lowered lashes, she acknowledged his nervousness but also detected an expression of mischievous satisfaction. Her eyes narrowed as she thought back over the events of the afternoon. She blinked in surprise at her sudden suspicions.

"Why did you do it?" Amity blurted out into the silence.

"Do what?" Max's face was expressionless, his eyes guarded.

"Why did you sabotage the tea party? You sent me that note knowing full well that I would be overcome with nervousness at the mere thought of knocking something over," she accused. "Then you made all those provoking comments about sticky buns and my extravagance. And furthermore you knew the cat was in the sewing basket. Did you put her in there?"

"Well yes," he admitted and waved his hand dismissively. "But it was just an experiment."

"A what?"

"An experiment," he repeated as if speaking to a child. "I wasn't sure that you knew enough about Paige to make the best decision. I thought this might help you see a little clearer the kind of man you would be marrying."

"I thought you wanted me to marry Bancroft."

"I did. For awhile. But the more I thought about it the less the idea appealed to me. On the one hand, he is well fixed financially and of course has a blameless reputation. On the other, he has little humor, is stuffy and has an impossible sister. After giving the situation, a great deal of consideration I decided that you would not suit."

"I see," Amity said, although she did not understand at all. She stared across at Max, surprised at the way he fidgeted beneath her glance. He seemed ill at ease, a far cry from his usual composure and poise. "Why didn't you tell me you had decided that I shouldn't marry Bancroft?"

"I wasn't sure you would believe me," Max said, moving a step closer to the settee. "Besides I wanted you to see for yourself what kind of a situation you would be letting yourself in for if you accepted his suit. His sister runs that entire household, Bancroft included, and you would have found yourself caught between the two of them."

"I was already aware of that," she said.

"And you would have married him anyway," Max snapped in exasperation.

"Yes." Amity's eyes fell under the angry green gaze of her guardian.

"That's just what I thought. But why were you willing to marry him, knowing what kind of existence you would lead?" Max's voice took on a wondering tone.

"I told you once that I wanted to have a family."

"Fine family Bancroft would have given you. Ophelia would take over the care of any children you might have. I am sure Sister would not have approved of your methods of raising them. Brother would side with her, as the great arbiter of the Paige family traditions. And then where would you be, my girl?" He moved several steps closer and waited for Amity's response.

"I never thought of that," she said. She raised her head and there was a look of sadness written on her face. "Then it all would have been for nothing."

Amity's words made Max's heart lurch in his chest. He wanted to reach out and hold her, soothing away the misery that was so evident. The blue of her eyes was dimmed, almost lifeless and it hurt him to see her so affected. He knew he mustn't rush his fences, but suddenly he felt hope and sat down beside her on the settee. He reached out and patted her hands, easing one into his own warm palm. He stared down at her fingers, quite bewitched by the softness of her skin.

"I must admit to a slight curiosity. You do not appear to be devastated by Bancroft's unwillingness to battle his sister for your favors," he said.

"I must confess, Max, that even before today I had some slight reservation as to how well we would deal together. I suspect if you had mentioned my project with the soldiers instead of my extravagant spending," - Here she narrowed her eyes at him and he had the grace to look shame-faced. - "Bancroft would have taken the opportunity to cry off that much sooner."

"I confess that was my next topic of conversation but for your sake I am glad it did not come to that. I can imagine the look on Ophelia's face at the mere mention of soldiers. If she is so condemning of animals, make no mistake, she would be convinced that soldiers returning from war would all carry fleas and be breeders of some dread foreign diseases." Max chuckled at the thought.

"It is no laughing matter," she said, although there was a suggestion of a grin in the set of her lips. She fought for control and looked at him with a wistful expression in her eyes. "I am very sorry, sir, but it does not appear that I will be marrying as soon as you hoped."

"Such a shame, poppet," he said. Moving slowly so as to not startle her, he pulled her into the circle of his arms, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. But her nearness was much too tempting and throwing caution to the wind, he bent his head and took possession of the inviting cherry lips.

A sigh of pure contentment escaped Amity as Max's lips touched hers. For a moment she accepted his embrace, welcoming the feeling of security that enveloped her body. She wished she could tell him how much she loved him but she knew that was impossible. Despair filled her and she became aware of the impropriety of her actions. She broke the contact and pushed him away.

"Please, Max," she whispered. "You mustn't do that."

"Whyever not?" he asked, keeping the tone of his voice neutral. "Don't you like it when I kiss you?"

"Yes, but it is not fitting," was the prim response.

"Between friends it would be suitable to share a kiss. As we did once before," he prodded, unsure whether he was going too fast. She had not seemed disgusted by his kiss but she had not given him any encouragement either.

"That should not have happened, Max," Amity said, blushing in remembrance of his kiss in the river. She dropped her eyes and stared at the pattern of the carpet. "I did not wish to mention it at the time but it was most improper of me to accept your embrace. After all you will be offering for Honoria and I cannot think that she would approve of your actions."

Amity's words were spoken so softly that Max had to bend his head to catch all of them. A wave of flowery scent wafted up to him, surrounding him in a magical spell as he inhaled the girl's fragrance. He had to clear the dryness from his throat before he was able to answer her.

"Perhaps you are right. However I see little need to concern ourselves about her approval," he said, taking her hand once more.

"How so?" Amity asked, raising her head in confusion.

"I fear that I will not be offering for Miss Waterston," he said. If he had not been holding her hand, Max might have missed the slight tremor that passed through her body. His own heartbeat increased to a terrifying rate and his eyes took on a luminous sheen as he stared at her exquisite face.

Amity could barely speak for the pounding of her heart at his words. She did not know what this rejection of Honoria portended yet a thrill of excitement pulsed through her veins. She moistened her lips before she could speak. "I thought Honoria was the perfect lady."

"No, Amity, she was never perfect. For awhile I thought she was." Green eyes locked with blue as he raised her hand to his lips. "You see, my dear, my peaceful life was invaded by a real lady although at first I was unaware of that fact. I suspect this is perhaps a poor time to mention it but I would be deeply honored if you would give some thought to the idea of marrying me."

Although his words created a burst of happiness in her chest, still she hesitated. It was important to think that his words and actions meant he had some feeling for her but she could not trust her own reactions. She had been so long without love that she was frightened that she was imagining his affection. Amity's eyes searched his face, wanting to believe his words. She was so afraid to give him any encouragement for fear he might discover she was everything he did not want in a wife. She pulled her hand from his, moving slightly away from him, aware of her own weakness at his nearness.

"Bancroft wanted to marry me t-too," she said a catch in her voice. "But he soon discovered I was not the person he wanted. Once you think about it, you will see that we will never suit."

"Of course we will suit. We are perfect for each other," Max said, wondering why she was being so stubborn. He reached out to grab her shoulders, wanting to convince her but he stopped before he touched her. The feel of her body beneath his hands would turn his mind to jelly. He folded his arms across his chest so that he would be more able to argue his case. "I have given this a great deal of thought, Amity. I want to marry you because I think you would be the perfect wife."

"You have told me often enough that I do not behave as I should. You will be angry when I do not conform to society's rules," she accused him.

"I assume I will be angry. And at other times I will be bewildered. I will grump and grouse and love every minute of the confusion you spread around you. Don't you understand, my dear, that I really do want to marry you."

"Why?"

Her question caught him off guard. What did she mean? Didn't she understand that he was in love with her. Then in a quick flash of humor at his own idiocy he realized that he had only told her that he wanted to marry her. Exasperation at his own cautious nature, infuriated him. Even if it was too soon to speak of love, he must be honest with her. He must risk everything if he wanted to win the prize. This time he did not hesitate as he reached out to grasp her shoulders and turn her toward him.

"The reason you must marry me is that my life will be impossible without you," he said. "You see, my dear, I have fallen in love with you."

Amity's mouth opened in a silent O of amazement and it was all Max could do not to press a kiss to her soft lips. He felt his senses expanding and he tried to control his thoughts but they scattered before the assault on his emotions. Then he realized that it was the one sure way he could tell her of his feelings, and he touched her lips with his. The kiss was the tenderest of salutes but it offered a promise of delights beyond imagination.

If Max had questioned Amity's feelings, her reaction to this kiss convinced him that she reciprocated his feelings in full measure. This knowledge sent a devastating burst of passion through his body and he groaned, pushing her away.

"We mustn't do that," he said, his voice a mere croak.

"Whyever not? Don't you like to kiss me?" she asked cheekily.

"Behave yourself, you bold minx." He stood up, to stand glowering down at her widespread smile. "As your guardian I need to ask if you have considered the offer of marriage you have just received."

"Yes, Max, I have." Amity's eyes shone with an almost magical blue light.

"And will you accept the offer?"

"With all my heart," she said. She leaped to her feet and threw her arms around him, resting her cheek on the cool satin of his waistcoat. "On condition, of course, that you have no objection to filthy and disease ridden animals."

A rumble of laughter welled up in Max's throat as he thought of the pompous Bancroft Paige. The poor sod had no idea what he had given up. "Yes, my dear, you may keep that mangy dog."

"And Ginger?"

"That is much to ask but I will admit she did me a singular service." He sighed as he pulled Amity closer. "Yes, you may keep Ginger."

"And Primrose?"

Max grasped her shoulders and pushed her away, narrowing his eyes at the guileless blue eyes raised to his. "And who may I ask is Primrose?"

"A cow," Amity said, her lips trembling at the expression of disbelief on his face. "She's ever so sweet. And Dobson thinks she is quite healthy even though her calf is due any day now."

"I will not have a cow drop a calf in my garden storeroom!" Max roared.

"Of course not, darling," Amity said as she placed her arms around his neck.

"And you will no longer pick up every stray animal in London!" he demanded.

"I promise, my dear," she said sliding her fingers into the shining thatch of chestnut hair. "Unless of course...."

A low groan issued from his throat. "I know. Unless they need a good home."

Even as he lowered his head, Max suspected that the years ahead might be long indeed. But there would be joy unsuspected in every day.

THE END