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Perhaps the butler was right, and taking a nice, long bath was the right option. But I couldn’t stand the thought of soaking in the tub, forced to reckon with the disaster of this afternoon.
No, instead I would go out. Not to White’s, of course, nor to anywhere the ton frequented. A bit too soon for the rake of rakes to show up there, I daresay. Instead, I’d go to St. Giles, the slum of London… if eventheywould still have me.
I wanted nothing but to get properly, absolutely knocked out - so drunk I’d forget even my first name.
I threw myself across my desk chair, waiting for the servants to bring the hot water. As I sat there, listlessly looking around the room, my eye caught a glint of a stormy grey sky from the corner of the window.
Inexplicably, I was suddenly staring into stormy grey eyes, with little flecks of blue and gold. Amelia Allen. I remembered how I’d recognized her by eyes several weeks ago on Gracechurch Street. Indeed, there was something about her eyes that I simply couldn’t forget.
How many times had I dreamt of those eyes over the years?
Too many to count.
In my dreams, she was always running away from me, her braids bouncing against her back. She’d turn and laugh, and I’d find myself sinking into those grey eyes of hers.
It was strange. Why her? I mean, he had been friends, sure… but I had done so many things since then. I’d failed out of Cambridge, traveled around the world and back, and everything in between.
There was almost nothing I hadn’t seen or done.
But for some reason, she had taken up residence in the back of my brain. In my most vulnerable moments, I was always back with her… running through Rosehill Manor.
I was suddenly reminded of Cavendish’s advice. He had suggested that I return home to Devonshire to see my ancestral land.
And I couldn’t deny that he was right- I hadn’t been to Rosehill since… well, I couldn’t even remember.
Perhaps it had been when my father had died.
Or when we’d moved mama…
I shuddered, pushing those thoughts out of my mind.
Regardless, I hadn’t been back to Rosehill in years. I’d avoided it for so long out of fear of the memories that would reawaken.
But perhaps seeing Amelia Allen for the first time in ten years was a sign. She was a vivid reminder of my childhood. That period of my life was full of bad memories, certainly – my parents had made sure of that. But it had also had good parts, too. Like the happiness of chasing after Amelia’s braids, and the sweet sound of her laughter through the halls.
I could go back to Rosehill.
It was not going to kill me.
The estate was probably falling into disrepair in my absence. I could go home for a few weeks, get things in order, and simultaneously ride out the scandal of Juliana.
After a bit of time had passed, no one in London would even remember what had happened. They’d be focused on newer and more exciting drama. I’d return to London, ready to rejoin the ladies and parties I had grown so fond of.
Indeed, I’d be able to resume my rakish behavior once things were settled in Devonshire – and the sooner, the better.
Chapter Five
Amelia
LadyRadcliffehadinsistedwe leave London at once, despite the dark clouds on the western horizon. And so we had all piled into the carriage, small flecks of rain already drizzling onto the glass-paned windows.
The ride to Cornwall was long and arduous, with poorly maintained roads and few services. With poor weather, I feared it might take us even longer than usual… and be even more dangerous. But all I could do was settle into the carriage and nod politely as Lady Radcliffe lectured Cassandra and me on the dangers of rakes and scandal.
It was going to be a fun trip, indeed.
The ride was uneventful at first, but as the day slipped into night, a distinct chill took a hold of the air. It was as if fall had decided to skip ahead a month and make itself known. As soon as the sun had set, the rain intensified, pounding against the carriage roof. Every few minutes, a loud clap of thunder would clash outside, sending us all jumping.
The coachmen alerted us that we had just crossed into Devonshire, but there was nowhere befitting of a Lady to stop. Lady Radcliffe was eager to press on anyways. And so we continued, the carriage pushing its way through sheets of never-ending rain. Gradually, Cassandra and Lady Radcliffe fell asleep. Eventually, I, too, found myself slipping into an uneasy slumber.
