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Chapter 2
Amelia could sense the spray of mud that had long since dried over her back, the crusty flakes that had splattered over the bare nape of her neck, and she yearned to rid herself of the tainted gown. That would have to wait, though. After she had delivered the charitable basket to the Humphrey family, she stopped to call on her friend, Hattie Green, to avoid another potential run-in with Charles while he visited with her brother at Falbrooke. Immature, perhaps, but she wished to avoid the man.
She sipped from the delicate porcelain teacup and leveled her friend with a serious look. “You don’t truly believe in that superstitious nonsense, do you?”
Hattie wrinkled her freckled nose. Light poured through the Green family’s parlor windows, warming the women with its rays. Dust floated within the shafts of light, falling to settle on the navy Aubusson carpet at their feet. “I’m not sure, but I cannot see any fault in trying. If it is successful, then I will discover who I am to marry.”
“Or you might see nothing because magic is not real.” Amelia steadied her tone. She would hate for her friend to get her hopes up only to fall disappointed. “Hattie, be reasonable. You cannot possibly hang about the church at midnight all alone. It does not feel safe. And what will Mr. Conway think when he sees you scattering hempseed around the grounds?”
Hattie scowled playfully. “Nothing, because I will not be caught.”
“You believe you can circle the church thrice with no one the wiser?”
Her soft brown eyes were full of mischief and determination. “Under cover of darkness, yes. At least, I intend to try. And if not, I will run. The vicar is nearly blind anyway.”
Amelia sighed, swallowing her amusement at the image Hattie had put in her mind of their ancient vicar chasing after her in the dead of night. “Then I suppose you may count on me. Someone ought to be there to keep watch.”
Hattie set her cup on the small table before the sofa and threw her arms around her friend. “I knew I could rely on you. If I’m being honest, the whole idea makes me most anxious.”
“Of course it makes you anxious. It should.” Amelia leaned back and eyed her friend. “It’s not natural to circle your church at midnight, calling out incantations and spreading hempseed, for heaven’s sake. Just saying that aloud causes my heart to quicken.”
“But it will be worth the effort if it works. My maid heard it directly from the Cunning Woman who lives in that cottage on the edge of town.”
“It is mere superstition,” Amelia argued, sitting back and taking another sip of her tea. She could not reveal how deeply she needed to believe such superstitions to be wholly false. “Do you truly think you can take her advice seriously? Curses and things of that nature are not real.”
“I said nothing about a curse.” Hattie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What sort of interest do you have in curses?”
“None, of course.” The lie was bitter on her tongue. Amelia held her friend’s gaze, hoping she looked convincing. How would Hattie react to learning that Amelia was, herself, most likely cursed? It was a distinct possibility, at least. How else would she be able to explain losing three husbands? Most women were able to hold on to one.
The ton certainly hadn’t taken to calling her the Black Widow for nothing.
“Is something troubling you?” Hattie asked, too perceptive for Amelia’s current mood.
She missed having Giulia and Mabel around for their regular literary society meetings to share in the conversation and attention. But married life took up so much of their time, and Mabel lived far enough away that they were fortunate if they saw her once each month. The literary society had all but dissolved, though Hattie and Amelia made an effort to see one another as often as they were able.
Amelia lowered her voice. She needed to turn the conversation. “Why the sudden interest in a husband, Hattie?”
“I’ve always wanted to marry,” she said, lifting her shoulder in a slight shrug. “I just haven’t fallen in love yet. But if I can discover it, I would like to know who the man is going to be so I can prepare.”
“Not all marriages stem from love.” And even if they did, that was no guarantee the marriage would last. Amelia knew this very well.
“No, but mine will.” Hattie spoke with such surety, it caused envy to sneak into Amelia’s chest and wind around her caged heart. Hattie reached across the sofa cushion and took Amelia’s hand. “And your next marriage can too if you wish it. With Falbrooke in your possession, you have no need to settle for anything less.”
Amelia laughed, the sound dry and rough. “Because of Falbrooke, I have no need to settle ever again. I put up with marrying Mr. Fawn in order to obtain comfort and protection, and he gave me a greater sense of security than I could ever have wished for. I live in his house with his fortune but none of the demands of marriage. And I have Andrew to keep me company.”
“Surely your brother does not intend to live with you forever. What will you do when he finds a wife?”
“Doctoring takes up far too much of his mind, and the young, unmarried women of Graton are few. He has shown no interest in marriage. I do believe I have nothing to fear in that quarter.”
Hattie looked less convinced. “Well, we shall see, I suppose.” She reached forward and laid a supportive hand over Amelia’s arm. “I am glad you came to visit. Are you still planning to go to Halstead Friday to call on Giulia?”
Amelia rose, nodding as she brushed her hands down her skirts. “I am, but now I should be getting home.”
Hattie stood. “You never did tell me how you got your wheels free of the creek bed.”
Amelia paused. “I didn’t? It was Charles Fremont. He happened upon me and helped push me from the mud.”
Hattie’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? How chivalrous of him.”
