The Earls Sinful Quest - Lisa Campell

THE EARL'S SINFUL QUEST
Succumbing to passion was never so scandalous...
LISA CAMPELL
Copyright© 2019 by Lisa Campell
All Rights Reserved.
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ABOUT THE BOOK
Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Brother's Wife...
Lady Amelia Turner became the Dowager Countess of

Wilton, only a year after her wedding. Determined to honor
her widowhood, she will not allow any man to try and
seduce her. And just then, the heir of her deceased husband,
his younger brother she has never met before, appears to
claim his Earldom.
iv ABOUT THE BOOK
Malcolm Turner, the handsome new Earl, is the last man

she should be craving. Unfortunately, they live under the
same roof.
When Malcolm meets his brother's widow, he is beguiled.

And after he almost seduces her in the dark corners of their
garden, he knows that he has to have her. There is only one
way to make her his: keep her in his house for as long as it
takes.
What begins as a cat and mouse game turns into something

deeper and unexpected. But their family's dark secrets
may tear them apart before Malcolm's sinful conquest is
complete...
Succumbing to passion was never so scandalous...

CHAPTER ONE
Amelia could not stop pacing the hallways. She was sure that
by the time she would be done, an actual hole would have
formed in the floor, worn by both her steps and worry. The
butler stood watching her, his own concern apparent, but said
nothing. To the side, stood her husband’s steward, wringing
his hands behind his back.
Perhaps it was not only her own distress that caused such
a heavy, sombre air, but the worry of everyone in the manor,
the worry of all those who loved Lord Arthur Turner, the Earl
of Wilton. Even those working in the household, despite
being distracted and busy with their duties, were sure to be
burdened by what was happening in the Earl’s bedchamber
right this moment. He was loved by them all.
She was growing frazzled, which was a bit unbecoming for a

lady of her stature. She’d only been the Countess of Wilton
for a few months, less than a year. She knew what was
expected of her, the grace and strength she should be exuding
even though her husband was lying ill in the next room, but
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she could not muster the courage. The mere thought that her
worst nightmares might be realized brought out a wave of
agitation that she was failing to contain.
“My Lady,” said the butler. “Perhaps it may be best for you
to wait for the physician in the drawing room, he will come to
you should there be any news.”
“It would be best,” she said with a nod. “But I do not
think I would be able to handle it. I shall wait here.”
“But, my Lady…”
“It is all right.” She paused and faced him, making an
attempt to smile. It was much more di cult than she thought
it would be and his frown was a clear indication that her
endeavour to reassure him had no e ect. “It is not me you
should be worrying about, but the Earl. Pray that he will be
well.”
She, herself, had been praying for the past three months,
since Arthur first fell ill. At first, it had come on slowly; a few
coughs here and there that seemed insignificant. Then, one
day, he collapsed with a terrible fever and had been bedridden
ever since, his health steadily growing worse. On the truly
terrible days, he was often unaware of who or where he was,
trapped within the throes of feverish delusion; a sight that
broke Amelia’s heart. On the better days, however, he seemed
to be strong enough to laugh and talk with her like he used to.
But neither of those days had been as terrible as today.
Amelia had taken her breakfast alone in the drawing
room, praying as she always did for Arthur’s recovery. She’d
been planning to make her way back to his bedchamber when
his steward rushed to her, telling her that the Earl had
su ered an episode and was in need of a physician. At that
moment was when the is tumultuous worry set in.
Amelia had done everything she needed to; instructed
someone to fetch the physician while she waited by her
THE EARL'S SINFUL QUEST 3
husband’s side for his arrival. Arthur had been terrifyingly

still, his breathing laboured, sweat dotting his pallid skin.
She’d held his limp hand in hers and prayed harder than she’d
ever done before. When Dr. Carter arrived, she let him treat
the patient in peace.
What seemed like an hour had now passed since the
doctor had begun his inspection. Or perhaps it had only been
a few minutes. Whatever it was, Amelia wasn’t sure she could
wait a second longer with the lack of news.
As she took one step towards the door, Dr. Carter exited
the room gently, trying not to make a noise. Amelia went
rigid. She took one look at his sullen face, and knew.
“My Lady…” He approached her, his head hung low. It
seemed as if he was having trouble looking her in the eye.
Amelia held her breath, praying the doctor’s obscure counte
nance only meant that he simply appeared to be more
dramatic instead of it being a sign of sad news. “It truly pains
my heart to say this.”
“What is it?” Her voice sounded distant, di erent. She
was hardly aware it was her speaking. “Will my husband be all
right?”
Dr. Carter finally lifted his eyes to meet hers prior to
shaking his head. Amelia felt a burden in her chest, the air in
her lungs abandoning her. “I am afraid there was nothing I
could do, My Lady. He has passed away.”
In an instant, the world tilted. A pair of steady arms
enwreathed her, most probably the steward’s, she reckoned.
Whoever it was, his strength managed to keep her in place
even as her legs gave way beneath her.
“Lady Wilton!”
Amelia was unaware of who had spoken and had hardly
heard a word of any of it. She felt as if she was no longer
present, as if her heart and mind were sinking into unimagin
4 LISA CAMPELL
able depths but…all this lasted only a moment, and then she
remembered who she was. The Countess of Wilton.
The Dowager Countess now…but a lady of grace all the
same.
“I see.” She righted herself, swallowing past the lump in
her throat. “Thank you, Dr. Carter. I am sure you did all that
that was humanly possible.”
Unbeknownst to him, the doctor awkwardly stood there,
evidently not knowing how to act or what to do with himself.
The man was significantly past his prime and had obviously
being a doctor for more years than she could count, and seen
his great fair share of deaths and grieving widows. And yet, he
looked at her as if all this heartbreak was a novelty to him.
It warmed her heart to witness such a kind response,
however, Amelia could not bring herself to muster half a
smile to her face. She nodded at him and barely bobbed a
curtsy out of respect before she took her leave and sti y
made her way down the hallway. She did not want to see
Arthur yet. Not right now, at the very least. She did not know
what she would do if she were to look upon his lifeless body.
So she did as the butler had suggested earlier; she made
her way to the drawing room. No one followed her. They
were all going to give her some time to grieve. Undoubtedly,
they all believed her distraught from losing her love and part
ner, the gentleman she’d been married to for less than a year.
Surely to them, Amelia had been deprived of the chance to
live her life which included her bearing him an heir and
raising their family.
But to Amelia, it was di erent.
She held her tears at bay until she was safely sheltered in
the drawing room. It wasn’t until she sat in the plush
armchair by the window overlooking the garden, that those
tears finally began streaming down her face. Amelia let out a
little sob which she held back with her hand. She didn’t want
to cry too much.
Arthur had been more to her than just her husband. In
times like these, where marriages were often bound by duty
rather than companionship, Amelia had been grateful that
she had married someone she could confide to, someone who
understood her, and comforted her whenever she needed so.
She’d never mistaken it for love and knew that Arthur did not
feel the same for her, but they had grown to be such close
friends that Amelia could hardly imagine her life without
him.
To think he took me in when I had nothing to offer him…was this
ending the bad luck he’d received for doing something like that?
She couldn’t help the thought. Amelia may have come
from a noble family but she hadn’t had much wealth or
considerable rank to bargain herself with. Her father was a
Baron yet a widower, and Amelia had neither the financial
agility to make her debut at the Season or to provide any
potential suitors with a respectable dowry. Even so, her father
had valiantly tried to see her married, and Arthur being so
kind, caring, and wonderful had accepted her without judg
ment. He’d given her a home, and a title, and had remained
by her side even after they’d gotten married.
Even though Amelia knew she would never have his love,
she was grateful to have him in her life.
But just like that, he was gone.
All these memories turned to sobbing tears she could no
longer suppress. Hoping nobody in the manor could hear her
sni es and soft wails, she tried to mu ed them with her
hand. All she wanted was to keep the appearance of the
proper lady she had become; a result of Arthur’s unwaivering
kindness, and only mourn in private, as she should.
Yet, the feeling of losing her bosom friend plagued her
6 LISA CAMPELL
deeply and, because of that, Amelia didn’t know whether she

could survive such a loss.
2 months later
A ceaseless smile rested on Malcolm’s face. And for the days

to come, he knew it would not disappear. After all, how could
it, since he would finally have the chance to embark on one of
the most rewarding ventures of his life? The very thing he’d
studied and worked so hardly for and for so long would be
coming to life, at last. He’d be damned before he would let
anything erase that happy smile o his face.
He raised a dram of whiskey to his lips, savouring the
tasteful burn on his tongue before it slid down his throat.
Scotch whiskey was quite strong and Malcolm found that he
could barely get past a couple of glasses before drunkenness
struck. He usually erred on the side of caution but with the
bit of good news he’d just received, he felt he deserved to
celebrate with one more glass.
After all, starting tomorrow, he would be commencing his
career as a medical professor at the University of Edinburgh,
Scotland’s most prestigious medical schools. He could hardly
believe he would finally taste the fruits of his labour, but
Malcolm knew it was only fitting. He had left England behind
to pursue his dreams and would allow nothing to taint their
realisation.
A knock on his door drew his attention. Turning his head
in anticipation, a wide smile formed in his face as he knew
the person who knocked would show himself in. And there
he was indeed, Mr George Anderson, in the room with him
and with a grin to match Malcolm’s.
“Would you look at yourself!” George said, folding his
arms. “You have only just acquired your position and it is as if

you are there already.”
“There is no use in delaying it,” Malcolm said as he placed
his unfinished glass on the desk. “A day’s di erence hardly
matters.”
Malcolm walked towards the corner of the room where he
kept his drinks and poured George a glass of whiskey. That
very room was Malcolm’s new study as a professor, a study
that, come tomorrow, would o cially be his.
“It hardly matters, indeed” George responded. “You seem
quite at home.”
“I have been waiting for this opportunity all my life. It
would be very unbecoming of me to not be prepared for
when that opportunity finally made its way to me.”
George chuckled heartily. He accepted the glass Malcolm
handed to him before he made his way over the cluster of
armchairs o to the left of the study. Malcolm joined him. “I
am quite content to hear it. So, if you will allow me, shall I be
the first to congratulate you on your much deserved success?”
George raised his glass. When he did, his sleeve hardly
clung to his scrawny arm. He was a very lanky man with an
unusually large head and a mass of stringy black hair. George
would have been considered handsome had he been blessed
with a more sturdy appearance, a fact, and lack thereof, that
he lamented over frequently.
“Thank you, George.” Malcolm responded. “Is that what
brought you by today? Did you wish to invite me to a congrat
ulatory gathering that should have been a surprise, one you
can no longer bear to hold in secret?’
He snorted, making Malcolm laugh. George was the son
of a wealthy English merchant who had been fortunate
enough to transfer to Scotland for his studies, much like
Malcolm had. He received his own medical practitioner
license the year before.
8 LISA CAMPELL
“Mind you, Malcolm, if you keep living o this wishful

thinking of yours” he said, reclining in his seat, “you shall
never feel satisfied. We, physicians, are far too insipid for
your liking.”
“It has been brought to my attention.” Malcolm said
slightly amused. “Admittedly, it is quite regrettable but I
suppose I will have to entertain myself tonight.”
“As I am sure you are quite accustomed to.” George said
as he reached into his pocket to withdraw a small slip of
paper. “However, the reason I am here is to deliver this letter
to you.”
When he saw his family’s seal on the front, his heart sank.
George spoke again, his voice laced with curiosity, “Have
you already informed your family of your success? My, my, you
certainly do not waste any time, do you?”
“I haven’t,” Malcolm said and frowned. “Actually, quite
some time has passed since our last communication, so I am
mystified as to why they would write to me now.”
George fell silent, his face murky. Malcolm knew exactly
what was going through his head, the very same thing that
was going through his own. Something bad has happened.
Steeling himself, he opened the letter:
My dear brother,
I pray that you are we . It has been a long time since we spoke last
and it pains my heart to do so again in light of such a terrible turn of
events. As it happens, our brother, Arthur, has passed away due to
i ness.
I know you have not been very close. However, I am certain you
are aware of what Arthur’s death means: your imminent return to
England.
As shocking as this may be for you, I am a aid there is little than
can be done.
Your presence at home is much needed and I sha be waiting for
you to discuss about the matter further.
Your sister,
Leonora.
Malcolm refolded the letter and placed it on the table
before him.
“Bad news?” George asked.
Malcolm nodded slowly. “My brother is dead.”
He was trying to comprehend the entirety of this situa
tion, what it meant. He had not, for a single moment,
believed such a thing could happen to Arthur. Not yet, at
least. His brother had still been young leastwise, young
enough and not so overwrought with worry regarding his
a airs that it would have driven him to such a state. How
could he have died so suddenly? How could he have failed to
do the one thing that would protect Malcolm from a life he
did not want?
Darkness covered his face. Anger, frustration, sadness
swirled within him. His dreams had only just come true. He’d
been so close to beginning the life he’d wanted for himself,
and now, the duties he’d turned his back to threatened to take
everything from him.
“What are you to do?” George asked him.
Malcolm took a moment to respond, not daring to admit
it. But he knew he had little choice he knew that the letter,
as kindly as it had been worded, had been somewhat of a
command.
“There is nothing else I can do but go; I must go,” he
responded heavily. “I must return to England.”
CHAPTER TWO
It felt as if a dark cloud had been lingering over Amelia for

some time now and she knew not when and if it would ever
dissipate. She reckoned it had a lot to do with the fact that
she had been wearing black since Arthur’s death. It felt like
sorrow had been woven and integrated into the fabric.
“Oh, dear me.” An elderly lady, the Dowager Countess of
Bradington, approached Amelia and rested a shivering hand
on her shoulder. Lady Bradington was bent with age, her hair
fully white and her face lined with wrinkles. She was the most
amiable old lady Amelia knew of, one whom she had made
her acquaintance with at her wedding as she had been a guest
of Arthur’s mother.
“Lady Bradington, thank you for being here,” Amelia said
softly, curving her lips into what she hoped was a smile.
“Oh, my, no need to smile, my dear,” Lady Bradington said
in a wobbly voice. Her chin shook, as if she too wanted to cry
and was battling herself against it. “No one would blame you
if you were to cry. Why, it was not so long ago you were
walking down this very same aisle on your wedding day.”
Amelia was aware of that. She’d been thinking about it
the moment she set foot inside the parish church. She’d
gotten married within these walls, and here, she had laid
Arthur to rest. It had taken her a few moments to compose
herself for the mere thought of it brought tears to her eyes.
She did not want Arthur’s mother and sister seeing her
a ected like this, despite it being utterly warranted and
justified.
“I know he is resting peacefully in heaven,” Amelia said in
a lowly, feeble tone. “I am certain that Lord Wilton is looking
down on us right now, pleased by this ceremony and your
attendance, my Lady.”
Lady Bradington a ectionately caressed Amelia’s arm,
staring at her worriedly. “A widow so unexpectedly, and here
you are being so caring. I can only hope and wish your days
ahead shall be brighter for you possess such a dear soul.”
“Your words are kind, Lady Bradington.”
Lady Bradington looked as if she wanted to embrace her
but hoped she wouldn’t for if she did, Amelia would most
certainly crumble and break and she would never wish to
show any sign of weakness in the presence of so many people.
It would appear Lady Bradington read her mind because
she nodded, took a step back and resumed her way into the
church. Amelia exhaled slowly. Each greeting was growing
harder and harder, and she didn’t know how much more of
this she could endure.
“Do you wish to rest a while, Amelia?” A whispered voice
sounded next to her.
Amelia’s mother in law, Lady Frederica Turner, the first
Dowager Countess of Wilton was standing next to her. Her
blue eyes seemed trained and weary. Her black hair were
artfully worn with much of it resting around her shoulders.
Amelia had been often feel impressed by how similarly
Arthur looked to his mother. “No, My Lady,” Amelia whis
pered back. “I am fine.”
12 LISA CAMPELL
“You do not look fine, my dear” Frederica insisted, still

not looking at Amelia. “And nobody would blame you if you
were to retire for a short while. Least of all, me”.
It was apparent that Lady Frederica had been crying.
Regardless of her being the very exemplar of poise, the lower
rims of her eyes had a slight red tint to them. Amelia knew
Frederica loved all her children dearly but had been especially
proud of Arthur who would always do what was expected of
him. As the eldest son, he had dutifully accepted the title of
Earl and even though his marriage to Amelia had been widely
dumbfounding, with her being lowborn, it had eventually
been helpful. The unbearable pain of the loss of a child would
be a feeling Lady Frederica would be carrying for years to
come.
“Thank you, Frederica,” Amelia said, o ering her a
fleeting smile, “but I believe I will manage. It is the least I
can do.”
Frederica finally looked at her, her brows dipping slightly.
“I have yet to ask you how you’ve been”.
Lady Frederica’s question disarmed her. Every single
person in attendance had posed that question to her,
however, none of those had been of Arthur’s family. Amelia,
not possessing the strength to pretend or lie, finally
responded, “I miss him dearly”.
Frederica remained silent for a few moments until she
released a low breath, “we all miss him”.
Amelia felt Frederica’s hand brush against hers, a fleeting
demonstration of comfort that meant more to Amelia than
Lady Frederica would ever know.
“What is it you two are whispering about?” Another voice
sounded next to Amelia. Leonora, Arthur’s sister, was staring
at both of them with a deep frown.
“Nothing of significance,” Amelia said, not wanting to
extend the burden to her as well. Leonora too looked crest
fallen but she carried herself in a much more virtuous and

upright manner. As if she wouldn’t dare let not even a frag
ment of a tear take space in her eyes. Not in front of anyone,
at least.
Much like Arthur, Leonora resembled Frederica greatly.
The resemblance was so acute that had there not been such a
stark age di erence, everybody would believe them sisters.
Frederica was two and sixty, and looked every bit of it,
though was still quite beautiful. Leonora, on the other hand,
was two and forty and unmarried. She’d been living with
Frederica in a smaller estate near Wilton Manor but they had
both transferred to the main house to keep Amelia company
during her mourning period.
Amelia didn’t know much about her. They’d never been
close though Leonora had always been kind to her whenever
they were in each other’s presence. However, during the
preparations for Arthur’s funeral, Amelia had learned that
Leonora was a lady who rarely failed to get what she wanted.
She was quite headstrong and her commanding presence
provided her with the uncanny ability to order people around
without making them aware of it. Amelia had fallen victim to
it a few times already.
“You do not look well, Amelia,” Leonora said, drawing
closer to her. There were no guests waiting to be greeted so
she gave Amelia her full attention. “You should sit down.”
“It is quite all right,” Amelia protested. “I am certain I
can stand a bit lon ”
“And what will you have us do if you were to faint?”
Leonora asked, tilting her head to the side. “Do you not think
she looks a little pale, Mother?”
Frederica was a very calm woman. She rarely spoke unless
she had to and was very comfortable dwelling in silence. She
merely gave her daughter a nod.
“Mother thinks so as well,” Leonora stated. She grasped
14 LISA CAMPELL
Amelia by her elbow and led her towards the door o the side
of the main church. “All I ask is for you to rest for a short
while and then you may join us again.”
The option had been taken out of Amelia’s hands. She
said nothing as Leonora ushered her into the room and sat
her down into one of the chaise lounges under the window. “A
bit of fresh air should be invigorating,” Leonora said. “I shall
come fetch you shortly.”
Amelia watched her go. Then, with a sigh, she looked out
the window but not really seeing anything.
Even though Amelia had no intention of admitting it,
Leonora was right. She did not feel well. And now that she
was here, she felt as if her body could no longer keep up with
her. Everything had happened so fast, from the moment she’d
met Arthur to him passing.
She could not forget how she felt over a year ago. At the
tender age of one and twenty, Amelia had thought she would
have to live her life as a spinster. Though her father still had
hope that she would be married, Amelia did not share the
sentiment. So, when she’d been informed of her betrothal to
the Earl of Wilton, she could hardly believe it.
It all unfolded so quickly for she’d been married to the
Earl a month later. Then, a few weeks later, her father had
died. Peacefully, so it seemed and happy he’d been blessed to
see his daughter married. Regardless her having no family left,
Amelia never felt lonely. She’d had Arthur by her side,
comforting her through the pain of losing her father and
making her smile in her darkest days. She’d grown close to
Frederica, and, to some extent, Leonora, and she felt as if she
had a new family to lean on.
But now, with Arthur gone, the life she’d lived as
Countess of Wilton was falling through the cracks. She’d
done well living up to that role, and being in her own way
what Arthur and the Earldom needed. What could she do

now that he was no longer here?
Amelia sighed, turning her face to the sky, where she
imagined Arthur was staring down at her. To think we managed
to keep your secret to the very end, Arthur.
It had been a marriage of convenience. Amelia knew that
from the very beginning. She’d never expected love and, in
truth, had never wanted to give love back. She’d been happy
to live her comfortable life alongside a man whom she could
call her friend. They’d shared secrets and passions, and she’d
known things about Arthur even his family did not.
For instance, the reason he had married her in the first
place was to mask the fact that his interest in marrying a lady
did not run as deeply as his parents would have fancied.
What wi I do now that you are gone, Arthur? What is to
become of my life?
That question was like a pendulum suspended in the air
unable to gravitate towards an answer for Amelia had been
deeply afeared of it..
CHAPTER THREE
It was a few days after the funeral when Amelia finally found
the strength to join Frederica and Leonora in the dining hall.
She didn’t believe her presence would make much of a di er
ence so when she entered the room and the conversation was
cut short, she paused. Frederica and Leonora both stared
at her.
“Forgive me,” Amelia said quickly, lowering her eyes out
of respect. “Am I interrupting?”
A moment passed before Frederica chuckled. “Are you
asking if you are disturbing us, Amelia?”
Amelia flushed and hurried to take her seat at the table.
She quickly glanced at the delicious soup before her, her
stomach growling in response, and then glanced back at the
women. “Perhaps I thought I had interrupted a private
conversation.”
“Do not fret yourself, my dear,” Frederica said waving
dismissively. “We had long since finished talking about you.”
Amelia smiled. She could always rely on Frederica to lift
her spirits. “The thought of joining you for dinner this
evening felt welcoming, I hope you don’t mind”, said Amelia

and tasted her soup.
“Most welcoming, indeed,” Frederica responded. “I was
afeared you prefered your bedchamber over us”, she added
with a smile.
“Yes,” Leonora said absentmindedly looking at her soup ,
twirling the spoon in it. “I mean, no, of course not”, she
quickly added realising what she’d just said.
The two women smiled warmly at her.
“And I must say, ‘tis a little odd,” Leonora added, “Consid
ering it is where Arthur took his last breath.”
Amelia sti ened. Frederica looked at her daughter.
“Leonora…”
“Did I express myself poorly?” Leonora widened her eyes,
but Amelia didn’t think she was unaware of the e ects of her
words. “Forgive me. You know I tend to speak my mind
without second thought.”
“Yes, which may be why you have failed to secure a
husband all these years,” Frederica stated.
“Oh, Mother, if it does not bother me then I cannot
fathom why it should bother you.”
Frederica chuckled. Amelia knew Frederica had long
gotten used to the fact that her only daughter had not
married, but she didn’t hesitate to tease Leonora about it
whenever she could. And, Leonora, obviously not caring
about her unmarried state, had always been ready to retaliate.
Amelia enjoyed their banter but Leonora’s words still
resounded in her mind.
It was certainly true that Amelia had been spending a lot
of time in her bedchamber, in the very same bed Arthur had
died in. Frederica had suggested that she slept elsewhere
should she came to feel too emotional but Amelia had
declined. The truth is that she did not feel so torn by
18 LISA CAMPELL
Arthur’s death that it would render it hard for her to be

where he’d been, touch what he had touched.
At least, not anymore.
A few months had already passed since his passing and
Amelia believed she was well enough now to think about her
future. She had to make sure that Arthur’s end would not be
tied to hers as well.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Leonora spoke up. “There is a
matter I must bring to your attention. It is regarding the
title.”
Amelia tensed. Anything that had to do with the title had
surely something to do with her because, as a dowager,
Amelia knew not if she had any power anymore.
Leonora, making sure she had their undivided attention,
added “I have contacted Malcolm.”
Amelia blinked in surprise. There was little she knew of
Frederica’s youngest son, the Viscount of Colberton, Lord
Malcolm Turner. Other than the fact he’d been pursuing his
dreams in Scotland, Amelia knew nothing more. In fact, one
would think he would return for Arthur’s funeral and since he
did not, Amelia, naturally, assumed he had no intention of
coming back to England.
“Malcolm” Frederica responded quietly.
“Yes,” Leonora said with a nod. “I explained the situation
and that the title is now his. I also expressed his expected
return. He responded in agreement.” Leonora sighed in frus
tration. “The letter was barely three lines long, Mother. You
would think that after all this time, he would have more to
communicate.”
“I considered him busy,” Frederica said. Amelia watched
the way she frowned at her soup, her mind clearly occupied
by myriad thoughts. “As he has not sent word in a while.”
“Perhaps he has been more preoccupied than we
believed,” Amelia said in an attempt to make her feel better.

Frederica smiled forcefully, bitterness spread across her face.
“Preoccupied, yes,” Leonora said. “I must say, though, one
cannot possibly be so busy that he would spare no time for a
matter like this. After all, it had always been clear the title
would be his if anything were to happen to Arthur. ‘Tis his
birthright.”
Frederica nodded. “What about his position in Scotland?
Has he said anything?”
“His position?” Amelia questioned curiously.
“Last we heard of him, he intended to pursue a position as
a medical professor at the university.” Frederica turned her
gaze to Leonora who happened to be the only one still eating.
Evidently unbothered by the fact that her younger brother
would be returning after so many years. “Leonora! Has he
shared anything?”
“No, Mother. No need to worry though for I am certain
he will tell you all about it when he returns.”
“I wonder and worry about him.” The concern in Frederi
ca’s voice was apparent as was the sprouting tiny bit of
curiosity the same sort of curiosity bumbling around
Amelia’s mind. “If he did not see it fit to return in time for
the funeral, then why would he do so now?”
“You know Malcolm,” Leonora said in an unfazed tone.
“He has always acted his mind. I wouldn’t be surprised if he
took a few months to settle his a airs in Scotland before
returning.”
“When is he expected to arrive?” Amelia asked her
sister in law.
Leonora looked at her and shrugged, “Perhaps in a week
or so.”
“A week!” Amelia exclaimed unable to restrain her shock.
She was already battling against the thought that she may
20 LISA CAMPELL
lose her position and now she only had but a mere week at
her disposal to consider her a airs. What if he banished her
to the countryside? What if he told her she was none of his
concern and left her without a home? Amelia’s heart clenched
at the very thought of it.
It certainly did not help that she couldn’t particularly like
the Viscount considering what Frederica had said. He hadn’t
cared enough to attend his own brother’s funeral but he
would certainly care enough to assume the title he had left
behind. Amelia wanted to see him, if only to give him a piece
of her mind.
If only, Amelia thought to herself. No matter her feelings, she
would be forced to behave as politely and kindly as possible consid
ering she was in dire need of his favour.
“Now now, enough about Malcolm,” Leonora said inter
rupting Amelia’s thoughts. She composed herself only to
realise she’d been holding the fork in a tight grip like she
would a dagger. Take a breath, Amelia, she thought to herself.
She glanced up at Frederica and Leonora, hoping her unin
tended show of discontent had gone unnoticed. Rising herself
to the rank and standard of a highborn lady had proven to be
quite a feat and she had no intention of destroying all she had
accomplished thus far.
“Oh heavens, is there more vexing news you wish to
further bestow on us, Leonora?” Frederica asked, her voice
tinged with humour and a delicate air of uneasiness. Amelia’s
lips twitched while Leonora glowered.
“It concerns Amelia,” she stated.
Amelia sat up, her eyes filled with worry. “It concerns…
me?”
“Yes, you. You should be aware now that since your
husband, the late Earl, has died you position has changed.
You are the new Dowager Countess.”
“Now, what does that make me?” Frederica asked.

Leonora glowered again, exhaling exasperatedly. Amelia
would have been amused if it weren’t for the fact that her
heart was pounding so rapidly. “Mother,” Leonora said
crankily. “Would you please allow me to express myself?”
“Certainly, certainly.” Frederica responded mirthfully,
amused by her daughter’s jesting remarks.
“There is no need to worry about me,” Amelia said reas
suringly. “Perhaps we should focus on the preparations for the
new Earl’s arrival.”
“All is taken care of, rest assured. As for you, Amelia, I
think you should consider remarring.”
“Remarry?” Amelia screeched in astonishment. “What
about Lord Wilton?”
“My brother’s opinion should hardly matter on this
matter,” Leonora retorted. “Once we are past the mourning
period, it would be in your best interests to find you a suit
able husband.”
Leonora’s suggestion filled Amelia with an array of feel
ings she was incapable of handing at this very moment.
Frankly, she did know this had been a viable option for her.
Remarrying would mean leaving this all behind, casting aside
the life she’d known and created by Arthur’s side all the while
she moulded herself into the perfect Countess. As a dowager,
who would have her? Who would she be sent o to marry?
“You do not seem very fond of the idea,” Leonora noted.
Amelia shook her head not really knowing what she felt
or how to express it. “My liking this has naught to do with
how I feel. I…simply do not know what to make of it.”
“You think about this too much, my dear, and it ba es
me. Do you intend to stay here as an unmarried widow for all
time?”
“I…” That she also did not know how to express.
22 LISA CAMPELL
Thankfully, Frederica came to the rescue. In a sense. “I

find this to be an excellent idea, Amelia,” she said. “Per
chance you are worried you will not find someone to love the
way you loved my son?”
“I don’t think ”
“Your happiness comes first, Amelia,” Frederica said
gently. “And I do believe that it might be in your best interest
to find a man who will be able to take care of you.”
“Yes, I believe so as well,” Leonora said, although her
seemingly nonchalant manner made Amelia wonder if she
spoke the truth.
Amelia nodded. There was, of course, little she could do
in protest. Liberty and power had both been taken out of her
hands the moment Arthur took his last breath. She swallowed
cautiously as if trying to suppress the rising feeling of intense
agitation brewing within her. “Perhaps you two are right,” she
murmured.
“Naturally,” Leonora said instantly. “I am hardly ever
wrong.”
“Is that so?” Frederica said raising her brow. “Have you
already forgotten about what you said during your first
Season?”
“Mother! Now is not the time!”
Frederica’s laughter had no e ect on the growing uneasi
ness in Amelia’s heart. She had a few more months of
mourning left before she had to remarry. She clung to that
thought, breathing in the faint sense of hope that sprouted in
light of it. The haziness of her future made her skin itch cata
pulting her back to the time when she’d faced the dreadful
possibility of a life of spinsterhood and probable destitution.
Arthur had saved her, provided for her and now that he was
gone, she felt anew all that long buried desperation.
She remained silent, listening to the usual banter between
Frederica and Leonora. Her mind gravitated towards the new
Earl. She wondered what he would be like, and if he was truly

the terrible person she’d already shaped him to be in her
head. Amelia dreaded the moment he would step foor into
the manor, she feared he would ask her to leave. What of her
then?
CHAPTER FOUR
Wilton Manor looked exactly the same. The white mammoth

sized brick building loomed over him like a hovering memory
he wished to leave behind. As Malcolm stood there, his gaze
sweeping across the many a sash window, the terraces, and
wide, inviting gallery ahead of him, he wished he were
anywhere but here.
He’d grown up with the company of his siblings and
parents who had respected each other, even though the love
in their marriage had eventually dwindled to nothing. Here
he had the pleasure of living an easy life where he could make
the most of the fact he had no immediate responsibilities
waiting for him, not with his older brother there to take the
lead. He’d been able to live his life as he wished, form friend
ships and enjoy experiences that would shape and transform
him into the man he is, the very man who ventured to Scot
land in pursuit of his dreams. Malcolm had honestly believed
he had been free.
Only for a few brief moments had he ever considered
anything like this might have happened. He’d never dared to
dwell on it, his mere concern was the future his future.
After all, Arthur had always been a robust fellow, responsible

enough to care for his health on top of all his countless
duties. What reason would Malcolm have to worry?
Now, there was nothing else he could think about.
The door opened and the butler stepped out, a frown of
worry on his face. Malcolm sighed silently. He did not know
how long he’d been standing out here but he was surprised
the butler hadn’t come to see him in sooner.
“My Lord!” he rushed down the steps and the mere utter
ance of these words brought forth a group of footmen that
had apparently been lying in wait.
“Good day to you,” Malcolm greeted. He supposed he
could smile but the men were bowing so profoundly none of
them would notice. “There is no need for that,” he told them,
almost sighing.
“Of course, My Lord,” the butler said readily. He gestured
with his hand and the footmen swiftly took the two portman
teaus Malcolm carried with him. He watched intently as they
carried them inside, resisting the urge to sigh once again.
I sense this is going to be more difficult than I predicted.
He advanced towards the main entrance of the manor.
The butler lurking by his shadow was a clear reminder that
things had changed. Naturally, a welcome like this was a
matter of etiquette yet it was the first their welcome had
been so formal. Such behaviour was solely dedicated to the
likes of the lord of the manor.
Malcolm tried to ignore him but such a thing would
certainly become an undertaking. The moment he reached
the entrance to the house, he stopped. He knew very well
what would await him on the other end of those doors and he
wasn’t certain he could face it just yet. For once he passed
that threshold, he would be instantly assuming his duties as
the new Earl. He would be taking his brother’s place,
subjecting himself to his sister’s nagging, and the remnants of
26 LISA CAMPELL
sorrow in his mother’s eyes caused by losing a child so

suddenly. In truth, Malcolm did not know whether or not he
was prepared to handle all this. So, he turned away and went
back down the steps distancing himself from the gallery.
“My Lord?” the butler yelped in confusion.
“Do not fret,” Malcolm said over his shoulder. “I do not
need you following me. I know my way around well enough.”
“But, My Lord, the Countesses of Wilton and Lady
Leonora ”
“I will see them soon enough. If they ask after me make
sure to communicate something appeasing.” He paused and
turned back to the butler. “You must disclose nothing
regarding my whereabouts unless they specifically ask.”
Malcolm knew very well where the butler’s loyalty lied so
he would never wish to impose on him the discomfort of
deceiving his mistresses. He did hope though the butler
would be wise enough to keep quiet about the fact that he
was leaving.
The man swallowed uneasily and then nodded. “Yes, My
Lord.”
“Very good.” Malcolm resumed his walking and headed
for the carriage but instead of getting on it, he veered to his
left, proceeding towards the gardens, knowing very well the
butler’s eyes followed him along.
The moment Malcolm reached the tall hedges, he knew
he was safe and hidden. His boots crunched over the gravel
path leading straight to the gazebos behind the rose bushes.
It had always been his favourite spot in the gardens as it was
tucked away from the entire estate, hidden and far enough
for anybody to find and venture over. Whenever Malcolm felt
the need to escape, he would find shelter in that very spot
and revel in the quiet, the fresh scent of roses and the swing
he would often sit on to clear his head. Right now, it was the
only part of the house he would be happy to see.
Settling his a airs in Scotland had proven to be time

consuming. It pained him deeply to walk away from all he had
achieved so far, all the accomplishments that eventually led to
that perfect moment. For a fleeting moment, he had every
thing he wanted within his grasp only for it to be ripped away
with the mere arrival of one damned letter.
A letter forcing him to face all he had been running away
from his entire life. Malcolm straddled between the thought
of laughing and his need to scream. He’d been anchored
between the two during the entire journey back to London.
It was comforting to know that even if he did decide to
scream, chances are nobody would listen. The gravel path
came to an end fleshing out a brighter, healthier grass. His
steps were mu ed, dew wetting the tips of his boots. He
bent underneath the trailing foliage of an arbour, and there it
was, the beautiful abandoned gazebo.
Only it wasn’t really abandoned.
Malcolm paused suddenly.
There was someone else here. Her gaze wandered to the
skies in a pensive manner. Strawberry blond curls engulfed
the side of her face,while the rest was hidden beneath a blue
bonnet. Her cheeks were rosy, her face round, and her eyes of
the most glorious green shade he’d ever witnessed. Analogous
with the grass under his feet, crushed under the weight of the
wonder he felt.
She hadn’t seen him yet. She let out the faintest sigh, her
shoulders sinking in the process. Hazily, she lowered her eyes
to the ground and extended her feet before her. Malcolm
followed her gaze, watching the way she twisted her foot
around as she studied it.
What is she doing?
Then, the beautiful lady frowned, and leaned forward to
more closely inspect her feet. Malcolm thought she was about
to brush something away, a habit quite unseemly for a lady.
28 LISA CAMPELL
But no, she did no such thing. In fact, it seemed like she
obtained something o the ground; a large, green caterpillar.
“Now, how did you get here, little one?” she asked aloud.
Her voice was melodious. Until now, Malcolm felt too
stunned to move but now, now the rapture of her voice had
rooted him to the ground. “You tickled me, do you know
that? If the gardener were to see you, you would get your
head chopped o .”
She peered closer at the caterpillar, who lifted half its
body o her hand. She giggled as if the creature had just
communicated words only they could comprehend. “You are
quite bold, aren’t you? I wish I could be more like you.”
Malcolm stepped back behind the arbour the moment she
rose to her feet. She walked around the gazebo and crouched
in a leafy bush. She didn’t seem to care about the fact that her
dress was brushing against the ground. She placed the cater
pillar on a leaf and grinned. “There you go. I implore you to
seek refuge now so that you may grow to become the most
beautiful butterfly.”
Suddenly, Malcolm realised he had been skulking behind a
garden arch, watching a lady who was totally oblivious to his
presence. He quickly stepped out of hiding, cleared his
throat, and attempted to shake the oddness of his behaviour.
“I wasn’t aware larvae could understand us humans,” he
said. The lady, startled as he was, picked herself up in a frenzy
and whirled to face the voice that frightened her so. She
gasped, her grass green eyes wide as two full moons.
Her slender hand covered her mouth in surprise. When
she did so, Malcolm noticed her lips, and couldn’t help but
observe how fine and voluptuous they were. “I…I wasn’t
aware I wasn’t the only one here”.
“I would hope not,” he murmured, decreasing the
distance between them. “Otherwise, I’d be shocked to see
what other little critters you converse with in the presence of

people.”
Malcolm expected his friendly teasing would cause her to
blush but all she did was entwine her hands behind her back.
She lifted her chin and, suddenly, she appeared to be every bit
of the lady she was. No… a queen. She carried herself like a queen.
“Considering you are prancing around the estate, I would
assume you are guest?” she asked in a meandering, subtle tone
that didn’t really resemble that of a question. “Did you
wander out here on your own?”
Malcolm tilted his head to the side. “Do I look like a
child? For it certainly sounds as if you are speaking to one.”
“I am not,” she said defensively. “However, if the grounds
are unknown to you, it is quite easy to get lost. It has
happened to me on several occasions. I believe it may be best
for you to return to the manor.”
“And will you be escorting me?”
She blinked. That would be the only reaction she would
grace him with, he was sure of it. “Does that mean you are
indeed lost?”
“If being lost means I shall have the honour of speaking
with the lady who converses with insects then, by all means, I
am irrevocably lost. Now, tell me, please. What did that
caterpillar confide in you?”
The sides of her lips gave way to a delicate pout and
Malcolm felt an onrush of humour within him. And when she
tilted her head to the side, he wondered just how she would
take back control of the conversation. “As you cannot, obvi
souly, see, the mere fact that I was here alone means I wished
to be alone. As for the caterpillar, it did not communicate
anything in particularl. Although, respectfully, it is hardly any
of your concern. Sir.”
“Ah, well now I couldn’t possibly walk away.”
30 LISA CAMPELL
“Is that so? Even when you realised that I am out here
unchaperoned?”
He blinked. He hadn’t even noticed. It had been so e ort
less; forgetting the intricacies of English etiquette when he’d
been away from the country for so long. It hadn’t even
occurred to him that she might be an unmarried lady.
“Are you close with Lady Leonora then?” he asked.
For some reason yet unknown to him, it caused him great
satisfaction seeing her sti en the way she did as a reaction to
his words . Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to ignore what
she’d just said. “Yes,” she said firmly. “We are close enough.”
“Ah. I understand now the reason you seem so comfort
able strolling around the gardens on your own.” He drew
closer, watching her as diligently as she watched him. “Or
perhaps you are the one who is lost and hesitates to admit so.
If that is the case, then I would gladly help you back to the
manor.”
“I need no help.”
“Is that so? Were you maybe hoping the caterpillar would
help direct you back?”
This time, her cheeks did turn rosy although Malcolm
knew the real reason was the anger she harboured against
him. He observed her, plainly amused, when she raised her
head and said, “I can find no reason standing here listening to
you tease me like this. If you wish to stay then so be it. I will
be taking my leave.”
Malcolm did not react or move. He watched her,
intrigued beyond words as she breezed past him. A pristine
floral scent encircled his entire being when she walked past
him, and he knew that such a divine aroma could not spring
from the rose bushes lying nearby. Without hesitation, he
followed her, mesmerised by her lovely smell and angered
steps.
When they reached the gravel path, she stopped and
turned to face him. “Do you intend to follow me now, sir?”

she asked demandingly.
“Follow you?” He feigned ignorance. “I believe it is quite
obvious this is the only path back to the house.”
“Are you telling me you no longer have a reason to be
here?” she asked, raising her perfectly arched brow.
“I saw what I needed to see,” Malcolm responded shaking
his head. She narrowed her eyes but managed to get nothing
more in response. She turned her back on him and left.
During their way back she remained silent and occasion
ally glanced at him briefly and coldly. Her glances were thinly
veiled and he could tell she was trying to mask them.
Malcolm was straddled between feeling amused and slightly
aroused, watching how her hips swayed, and her seemingly
arrogant demeanour as if she were the ruler of the land. It is
quite possible she did in fact belong to a royal family, as his own
family had o en entertained nobility.
He followed her until they reached the anterior part of
the manor, her steps light as she made her way up the steps.
He noticed she paused for the slightest moment before she
crossed the threshold. Malcolm, too, entered behind her.
She looked at him. Her face was flushed, and her eyes flar
ing. Malcolm raised his eyebrows in surprise. She was about
to utter something when another voice resounded in the
room, interrupting the moment.
“Malcolm?” his sister’s lovingly piercing voice echoed
through the house. “There you are!”
Malcolm watched, beaming with amusement, as the lady’s
eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She attempted to
compose herself before Leonora approached them. “Where
have you been?” his sister demanded. “Are you so overtaxed
by our presence already that you felt the need to venture o
on your own?”
“I had missed wandering around the gardens,” he said as
32 LISA CAMPELL
he attentively observed the lady who was now watching him

drenched in confusion and horror. “And I longed to revisit my
favourite spot, however, I was unsuccessful as I did not enjoy
it quite how I imagined I would.”
“Ah, I see.” Leonora clasped Malcolm’s arm, trying to
draw his attention to her. She frowned as she looked between
him and the lady. “Have you two met already then?”
“Not quite ” he said but the beautiful blonde lady inter
rupted him with a curtsy.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lord. I
am Lady Amelia Clarke, the Dowager Countess of Wilton.”
Malcolm stood there petrified. This is my brother’s widow?
He composed himself as quickly as possible and o er her
a rather obviously uncomfortable bow. “The pleasure is all
mine, My Lady. I am Malcolm Turner, Arthur’s younger
brother.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Amelia wished for the earth to swallow her whole. Only then
would she have a chance at escaping the utter horror and
embarrassment flooding her entire being. The glistening
satisfaction pictured on the eyes of this man, this frustrat
ingly handsome gentleman, was enough reason to make her
want to flee.
However, the chance of that happening was slim, the
provocative smirk adorning his face was a clear indication of
that. She stood there before him with an unnatural stillness,
struggling to assume a stance of torpor and disregard, both of
which she did not possess. She feared her talent at pretense
was quite poor when he twitched his lips, as if he knew
exactly all the workings in her head.
Leonora tugged on his arm shaking them both back to the
present. “Come,” she said sternly. “Mother has been impa
tiently anticipating your arrival. To keep her waiting is
improper.”
“I have only just arrived, Leonora, and your domineering
self is steering the wheel already.”
Leonora scowled in disbelief. “I am your older sister,
34 LISA CAMPELL
Malcolm. That is my duty. Now, come. We shall assemble in

the drawing room and discuss about our a airs.”
Usually, Amelia’s heart would be overcome with restless
ness every time the future was mentioned. And, uncertain as
she was about what she would do once her mourning period
was over, did not enjoy the feeling of an unclear path laying
ahead of her. Yes, Leonora had suggested that she remarry,
and the notion was indeed quite tempting when she thought
bouving being with someone that would care for her. But
now, as she followed the new Earl of Wilton, marriage was
the absolute last thing on her mind.
How could I not have suspected it was him? Frederica had been
thrumming with excitement ever since Leonora informed us of his
near arrival. The entire manor had been waiting for him. And yet
when I see him, the thought doesn’t even cross my mind?
All of a sudden, Amelia wished she were alone. She
wanted to look at herself in a mirror and scold her about her
being so stupid. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that she
would meet the Earl so abruptly. She’d imagined it would
have been an almost formal a air, with tea and cakes and
Frederica’s tears of happiness. Who would have thought their
first encounter would involve her speaking to a caterpillar she
lifted o her shoe.
Oh, goodness, I just want to bury my face in my pi ows for the
rest of the day.
Lord Wilton, to his merit, ignored her on the way to the
drawing room. She trailed behind him and his sister,
wondering if it would be possible for her to leave unnoticed.
Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Amelia entertained the
thought of simply deserting the lot, perhaps with a sad excuse
claiming she was ill. If only she were able to do that for the
rest of the time she was here so as to avoid ever facing this
sort of embarrassment again.
But no matter how tempting such a thought was, it was

futile.
When they entered the drawing room, the elder dowager
was occupied with her needlework. She was so shocked at the
sight of Lord Wilton, she accidentally pricked her finger.
“My Lady,” Amelia said, rushing to the door. She held
Frederica’s hand in her own, noting that there was blood on
the tip of her forefinger. She signalled to the butler who
hovered by the door and he immediately propelled out the
room.
“It is of no importance, Amelia,” Frederica said in a reas
suring manner. She was unable to take her eyes o Lord
Wilton. She came to a stand “It is but a mere pinch.
Malcolm…”, she paused, “it’s been so long.”
“Hello, Mother,” he greeted with a warm smile. Frederica
smiled happily in return, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Well,” she asked, her voice strong notwithstanding
emotional. “Do you plan to stand there for the rest of time or
will you give your mama a hug? It has been years!”
“Oh, God.” Lord Wilton sighed heavily. Amelia stepped
back, watching as he approached his mother and wrapped her
in his arms. It was a heart warming sight, one that normally
take delight in if it weren’t for the fact that she couldn’t stop
studying his face.
My goodness, he is handsome. He had a head of thick, black
hair with striking blue eyes that could disarm anyone
instantly if he wanted to. He was rather tall, but slim. Amelia
couldn’t help but gaze up and down the entirety of him. She
had an inkling that beneath all those fabrics his body would
be slightly muscular, but by observing more intently, she
thought he gravitated more towards lanky.
As a whole, he was one of the most handsome men she’d
ever seen. And she was perfectly content to simply regard and
36 LISA CAMPELL
stare at him. But once he pulled away from Frederica, she

forcefully calmed herself.
Frederica smiled once more, her glimmering eyes filled
with happiness. Then, out of the blue, she slapped Lord
Wilton’s arm. “How could you not write to your own mother
for so long? Have you any notion about how concerned I have
been for you?”
Lord Wilton rubbed his arm, o ering her a modest grin.
“Forgive me, Mother. I have been so preoccupied I was
hardly aware of the passing of time.”
“Ah, yes, enough with the excuses. You are quite fortunate
my spirits are high today.”
Lord Wilton smiled warmly knowing his mother was
teasing him.
It had become known to Amelia that Frederica was an
emotional woman regarding her sons and witnessing that
filled her heart with a sense of bittersweet longing. Once
upon a time, she’d entertained the thought of having children
but had forsaken the fantasy when she’d married Arthur.
Now, she wondered what her life would be if she had been
able to bear her own son. Would he gaze fondly at her the
way Lord Wilton gazed at Frederica? Would she be brought
to tears when they were to see each other again?
“Is this huddle of nostalgia done with?” Leonora
exclaimed sharply.
She proceeded to sit next to her mother, facing Lord
Wilton. Amelia sat on the other side of Frederica, trying not
to look at Lord Wilton even though she felt his eyes on her.
Leonora continued, “I have an announcement.”
“Oh heavens, Leonora,” Frederica sighed. “His chair is
hardly warm yet.”
“It shall warm itself as I speak.” A smile flickered over her
face. “I would like for you to throw a ball.”
“Do you now?” said Lord Wilton in a droll voice.
“You should be pleased, Malcolm,” she said pointedly. “It

shall be in your honour, after all. We must celebrate you
becoming the new Earl. It will be wonderful.”
“This is hardly in need of celebration.”
“You may believe so but I, and the rest of the ton, do not
share your opinion on the matter. Your return to London
requires a ball equivalent to your new status.”
Lord Wilton leaned forward. He tilted his head to the
side as he regarded his sister. “How kind of you, Leonora.
And yet, I harbour this distinct feeling that you may have
other reasons underlying your desire to celebrate my
return.”
“You are quite correct, dear brother,” she responded
easily. “How observant of you. I suppose that’s how you’ve
managed to do so well in Scotland, is it not?” Unable to help
herself, Amelia glanced at Lord Wilton, just in time to see the
look of displeasure on his face. To her ultimate surprise, he
made no e ort to hide it. “Yes, there is an underlying reason,
indeed. It would be a lovely opportunity for Amelia to find
herself a new husband.”
Amelia sti ened. She glared at Leonora. The conversation
had turned to her so abruptly. “Pardon?” she gasped.
Leonora looked at her. “Do you not recall our conversa
tion a few days ago, Amelia?”
“Yes, I… Only it is… it seems so soon.” She was painfully
aware that Lord Wilton was staring at her. She knew perfectly
well her entire demeanour was utterly di erent than the one
he’d witness by the rose bushes.
“A ball is an exceptional idea,” Frederica said. “I cannot
recall when we enjoyed ourselves last, we could all benefit
from it. You in particular Malcolm. A ball shall be the perfect
way for you to become acquainted again with the London
society.”
Amelia sighed in relief. Fortunately, the conversation was
38 LISA CAMPELL
no longer involving her and she wondered if Frederica did

that purposefully.
“I require no assistance on the matter,” Lord Wilton said.
“I am perfectly capable of reacquainting myself with the
world without your meddling.”
“Are you opposed to the ball then?” Leonora challenged.
Lord Wilton looked at her dryly. “Does it truly matter if
I am?”
His sister shrugged. “How observant of you, dear brother,
for it does not matter indeed. I believe you will truly
enjoy it.”
Lord Wilton sighed. He pressed his hands on the
armrests, bringing himself to a stand. “Well, how lovely. If you
are finished, I will now retire to my bedchamber for a brief
doze. The journey back has been quite exhausting.”
Frederica quickly got to her feet. “Running away already,
are you? I shall escort you.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mother.”
Amelia’s heart pounded frenziedly when he turned his
attention to her and bowed. “My Lady,” he said. She curtsied
as gracefully as she could, trying not to be overthrown by the
interest in his voice.
She watched the Lord and Frederica leave before sinking
back onto her seat with a long sigh.
“Save your sighs, Amelia,” Leonora said. “For there shall
be more to come now that my brother’s the new Earl.”
Amelia didn’t doubt it for a second.
CHAPTER SIX
The cooling sensation of the glass in his hand had a calming

e ect on Malcolm as he padded down the empty hallway. It
was well after dark, hours after dinner. A rather tense dinner
with a question he’d been hoping to avoid hanging in the air:
the one regarding his absence at the funeral.
Throughout the entire supper, Malcolm had wished no
one would ask him, simply because he had no response to
give. He’d never been particularly close with Arthur and
during the entire evening he could feel the burning gaze of
the young Dowager Countess, her quiet accusation drilling
into his head.
The thought of her brought a wry smile to his face. She
hadn’t scared him. She hadn’t even unnerved him. Instead,
he’d found himself wondering whether she would dare ask
him that blasted question. But he could see she was such a
gentle lady with kindness in her manners who would be sure
to speak if the conversation required her to. He let himself
think of her as the perfect wife, supporting her husband,
taking care of the household, standing by his side while they
entertained guests. He did not linger on her for too long
40 LISA CAMPELL
though. He couldn’t possibly. She appeared to be quite unlike

the lady he’d seen murmuring to that caterpillar, and who had
gotten very defensive about it afterward.
She’s quite intriguing, I must admit. Never would have I
expected to return to this.
A gentle breeze wafted past him as he walked out onto
the terrace. There he detected a female silhouette and
ventured closer, his heart hammering loudly at the thought of
who it might be. Sure enough, Lady Wilton stood there, still
dressed in a midnight black gown she’d worn to dinner.
Once again, she didn’t notice his presence and so he took
full advantage of it.
She was a vision. The moonlight reflected on her hair
with a silvery glow, accentuating the curves hidden beneath
her dress. She faced the sky, her eyes peered at the stars. Her
countenance was pensive, again.
Malcolm hadn’t really considered her existence on his
journey back. He knew, of course, his brother had been
married but since he’d already been in Scotland by the time
they were betrothed, their paths had never crossed. At the
very least, Malcolm had assumed he’d find a mourning lady in
black roaming the manor merely someone whom he would
have to take care of.
But looking at her now, she did not appear to be in need
of help. She looked neither sad, or wistful. She looked…trou
bled. Yet, it was as if, even in her solitude, she’d been strug
gling to hold her emotions back.
Suddenly, she turned her head to the side and said, “If you
thought you could frighten me, you are a few seconds too
late. Perhaps you should announce yourself instantly instead
of simply lurking in the shadows.”
Malcolm blinked in surprise. Had she noticed he had been
there all this time? Why hadn’t she spoken sooner?
He drew closer as she once again turned her face to the
sky. “I shall make a note of this, it could prove itself helpful

for another time,” he said, but she did not smile.
“Did you know I was here?” she asked.
Malcolm took a moment too long to answer, captured by
her beauty under the moonlight. “No, I did not.”
“Ah, I see. Then you are not here to apologise about
earlier.”
“I was not aware I owed you an apology,” Malcolm said in
surprise. Right at this moment, she had reverted back to the
way she was in the gardens. “Have I o ended you?”
“Not quite, though you did give me quite the scare. It
would be the gentlemanly thing to do. Nevertheless,” she
turned to him and curtsied deeply, “I will now extend my own
apologies for failing to state who I was and for treating you so
unkindly. I hope you will accept it.”
Malcolm frowned. She turned away, about to leave.
Malcolm called out to her. “How can you leave me since I
haven’t been given the chance to accept your apology?”
Lady Wilton faced him again, clasping her hands before
her. She gave him a simple look, one that expressed her disre
gard about whether he would accept or not. Malcolm smiled
discreetly at the sheer grace she carried herself with, how
easy it was to forget that she was only a Countess. And a
dowager at that.
“Will you keep me company a while longer?” he asked her,
softening his voice. “I promise you, I will not bite.”
“Had I thought you did, Lord Wilton, I wouldn’t be here.”
He winced. “It appears your first impression of me during
our encounter the other day has been unsuccessful. I would
like to remedy that.” He gestured at the decanter in his hand.
“Shall I pour you a glass?
She looked at it thoughtfully. After a moment, she shook
her head and stood next to him. “I would consider it best to
refrain from the whiskey.”
42 LISA CAMPELL
Malcolm celebrated this small feat in his head. He calmed

his features, mimicking her by turning to face the sky. “Has
whiskey caused you unpleasant memories?” he asked.
She lifted her eyebrow. “It would appear you have a knack
for blurting out every ungentlemanly that crosses your mind,
My Lord.”
“Ah, forgive me.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I am
still adjusting to my new role, you see. I have been away
from London for far too long, surrounded mainly by other
men. It seems I have forgotten how to speak to a beautiful
lady.”
The compliment slipped out of his mouth without warn
ing. He prayed she wouldn’t think too much of it. He didn’t
want her to think he might fancy her, even though he was
quite certain that he did. He couldn’t deny the attraction he
felt to her, how happy talking and standing next to her made
him. He silently hoped this night would never end.
“You flatter me, My Lord,” Lady Wilton said. He might
have been mistaken, but he had the impression he detected a
subtle hint of a blush on her cheeks. We , I suppose a time
would come when she couldn’t possibly maintain her tranquil compo
sure so we as she was used to.
“Well, this has been a simple observation, My Lady. I am a
man of science, after all.”
“According to the Dowager Countess, you have been
pursuing a position as a medical professor?”
“Yes, I am in fact a Professor. However, the day before I
was to assume the role, I received word of my sister.”
Malcolm was still feeling a little bitter about it.
“It must have been challenging for you. I suppose you
needed some time to sort through your a airs before you
returned to England, am I right?”
He looked at her. Her expression was still neutral, her
voice controlled. But he sensed a hint of accusation in her
tone. “Well, there were indeed matters that required my

attention.”
“I see. Is that why you failed to attend the late Earl’s
funeral?”
“Ah.” Now, he understood. “I see now.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “I am
merely curious, My Lord. I did find it odd that Arthur’s
younger brother did not attend.”
“Did Arthur not tell you about how we have never been
close? If it were not for the fact that my mother gave birth to
us both, I would never view him as my brother in the first
place.”
“How cruel of you to say so.”
Her voice was but a whisper but coloured with emotion.
It almost felt as if he had angered her, even though she never
expressed it. Malcolm took a sip of his whiskey before he
answered. “You must forgive me, My Lady. As his widow, I
suppose it would hurt you more than anyone to hear such a
thing.”
“Yes, well…”
He blinked. He almost expected her to deny it. “Though,
I must say, My Lady, you are quite di erent than I imagined.”
She looked up at him. Any hint of anger she might have
felt was now gone. Malcolm noticed the shift for her eyes
deepened, exuding a kind of curious disposition. “Why do
you say so?”
“I am not certain,” Malcolm replied honestly. “In truth, I
did not expect to witness such beauty and sternness.”
He couldn’t tell if the compliment a ected her for surely
him calling her stern masked it well. Though her cheeks
blushed, she loured assuming an inquisitive expression. “You
believe me stern?”
“No, my Lady, I know you are so. It is quite apparent from
the manner you speak to me.”
44 LISA CAMPELL
“I…” Those words overthrew her. Lady Wilton’s eyes flut

tered as she lowered her glance to the ground. Observing the
movements of her mouth as she grappled with what to say
was more endearing than it should have been. It would
appear she had entrapped him in a trance, the kind it would
be unbelievably hard to free oneself from.
“I must say, you have been quite kind to me since our
misunderstanding. Although I cannot help but wonder if it is
simply because of my newly acquired Earldom.”
“I assure you, it is not,” she said without hesitation.
Malcolm smiled, satisfied with himself. “I’m glad for I
only said that in jest. My intention was to make you feel more
comfortable with me, is all. You seem tense.”
“I am not,” she protested weakly.
Malcolm leaned closer to her. Lady Wilton looked at him
confused but did not falter. Perhaps the whiskey coursing
through him bolstered a sort of courage in his ways and
thoughts. And these thoughts urged him to places he
shouldn’t venture, places that whispered to him he should
have her as his own. There was no reason to this this intense
feeling brewing inside. As they gazed at each other, dwelling in
silence, he almost felt that feeling grow and evolve into what
would normally be considered impossible. A feeling so seem
ingly foolish considering they had only just gotten acquainted.
Without him realising, his eyes travelled to her lips. They
were parted, his face so close to hers he could feel her breath.
His thoughts and intentions were clear so he wondered why
she did not react. If she were not to stop him, oh, the things
he could do to her. Under the starry nightsky, with the
whiskey rushing through him, her ecstatic scent and ethereal
beauty, Malcolm found himself incapable of stopping.
He leaned in, his eyes looking deeply into her. She was so
near, only a breath away, and his heart pounded with anticipa
tion. This was wrong, he knew so. She was his brother’s
widow, a lady still in mourning, and here he was about to kiss
her. He should fight against this feeling. This impulse. She
should ignore her beauty, his arousal, his attraction, and move
on with his life. He should focus on the Earldom and let her
focus on her own life.
But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t.
Yet, before he had the chance to kiss her, she pulled away.
At the very last moment, she stepped back, shaking her head.
Malcolm mirrored her movements, regret spreading through
him.
“Forgive me ” he said but she gestured him to silence.
The once tranquil lady perfectly able to compose herself
and mask her emotions had disappeared. She seemed flus
tered and refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she gripped the
railing next to him so tightly her knuckles went white.
“No, forgive me,” she said. “I…I believe I should take my
leave.”
“Ah, yes, I ”
She gave him no chance to speak. She curtsied sloppily
before she turned her back to him and slipped out the door,
leaving him alone in the company of an ocean of thoughts.
God, I am a fool. Why on earth did I behave this way?
Agitated as he was, he poured himself another glass and
drank it all. And then he proceeded to pour yet another.
So foolish of me. She is my brother’s widow! How could I behave
in such an ungentlemanlike manner on the very same day of my
return?
He stood there for a while, scolding himself. Malcolm
wondered how he would face her come morning, knowing
what he’d almost done. She was far too graceful, far too digni
fied to accept such an abhorrent behaviour. Yes, he might
have flustered her today, but what about tomorrow? What
46 LISA CAMPELL
would she say when she would see him and relive tonight’s
events?
The mere idea that she might opt to stay away from him
was too aversive a thought. Malcolm had already formed an
attachment to her, one that was born the very moment he’d
laid eyes on her.
“You seem to be deep in thought.”
Malcolm whirled, mortified. It was Leonora, emerging
from the darkness casted by the walls behind him. She tilted
her head at him.
“You mustn’t frighten me this way,” he told her. He darted
at the door. Did she… see them?
“I was only concerned,” she said lightly. “Something on
your mind, Malcolm?”
“Other than the fact that I must now assume a role I am
wholly unprepared for?” he asked sarcastically.
She didn’t smile, merely pouted. It was obvious she knew
more than the cared to let on; a sensation he found utterly
uncomfortable. She rested her hand on his shoulder, looking
at the whiskey. “I believe you should rest. A long day lies
ahead.”
Malcolm said nothing but she did not wait for a response
either. Before leaving she graced him with one last knowing
look of disapproval making him wonder if she might have
seen the moment he shared with Lady Wilton.
Yet… the moment they shared was hardly a moment.. She had
stopped herself. And he knew they would peacefu y coexist only if he
ensured this moment would not happen again.
Or so he told himself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amelia’s e orts to quiet her mind had been in vain. She’d

tossed and turned all night, the memory of the Earl’s face so
close to hers vivid in her memory. The memories had invaded
her dreams, and she had woken with her body warm and her
head flooded with thoughts about deeds she had never expe
rienced. Thoughts she had instantly discarded the moment
she’d learned the truth about Arthur. And now, these
thoughts and images filled her with such fervour her body
had been trembling with an unfamiliar, peculiar need.
She’d pricked her finger twice since she believed it wise to
distract herself with needlework.
Lord Wilton had opted out of taking his breakfast in the
dining hall, much to Frederica’s disappointment. But it was
well into the afternoon when Frederica was unwell and had
Amelia fetch the physician. According to him, she had caught
a cold.
Amelia was content for she didn’t know if she would be
able to handle seeing Wilton, not after last night. How on
earth would she find the strength to behave casually under
Leonora’s watchful eye?
48 LISA CAMPELL
It would be an impossible feat and so, when he’d failed to

arrive for breakfast, she’d whispered a prayer of relief despite
the twinge of disappointment nestled inside of her. There
was no sense to her wishing to see him again. The situation
between them had been troubled from the start, they had
barely managed to overcome their initial misunderstanding
and, now, they were forced into yet another one. It must have
been so, she thought, he had had too much to drink.
Yes, I am glad our paths did not cross this morning. If they did,
Frederica and Leonora would be able to see right through them.
Amelia had never been secretive towards them so she
doubted today would make any di ference. She hissed when
her fingers slipped and pricked herself once again. She’d been
arduously trying to concentrate on her needlework but her
mind would ceaselessly drift to Lord Wilton.
Her body ignited at the mere memory, her fingers would
tense at the possibility of what could have happened had she
not stepped back. She quivered and reminded herself of who
she was. The Dowager Countess of Wilton should carry
herself with poise and dignity.
“I pity your hands.”
Amelia gasped at the sound of Leonora’s voice. Somehow,
she’d managed to enter the room without Amelia noticing.
Sometimes, she wondered if Leonora had chosen to walk so
lightly so as to purposefully watch people.
Leonora approached her, looking at the blood on her
finger. She tried to hide it but, alas, it had been too late.
Leonora pulled the butler bell before sitting opposite
Amelia. “Is something on your mind?”
“No,” Amelia replied hastily. She swallowed uneasily. “I
was deep in thought.”
“In regards to…?”
“The new Earl.” Deep down, Amelia knew this was the
precise response Leonora had expected of her. “I wonder
about the kind of Earl he will become. About how he had

deliberately distanced himself from this life, and if he would
exceed your expectations. The ones set by Arthur.”
“I am well aware but he is still a member of this family,”
Leonora said. “You should have a little more faith in him.”
Amelia nodded. “Ah, yes, forgive me.”
“Is that all?” Leonora asked skeptically.
Amelia looked at her. “Is there anything you wish to share
with me?” she asked back.
Leonora remained silent when, after a few moments,
eventually shook her head. Once the butler arrived, Leonora
had him fetch a clean cloth for Amelia’s finger. She smiled in
gratitude but Leonora seemed fairly distracted.
Few moments passed when the door opened and Amelia
looked up expecting to see the maid and there she was
except… she was not alone. She was accompanied by Lord
Wilton.
Amelia gasped silently and extended her hand to the
maid, feigning interest in her mending. She watched Lord
Wilton out of the corner of her eye as he came to a halt the
moment he noticed her and then proceeded to sit by Leono
ra’s side.
“Good day, ladies,” he greeted. His tone was casual, as if
nothing were amiss. She looked at him but he seemed to be
avoiding her gaze.
How odd. Does he not remember?
“I’m glad you are here, Malcolm,” Leonora said.
“Are you really?” Malcolm said instantly sighing in despair.
He took a slice of cake as he asked, “What is it now, dear
sister?”
“What can you mean?” she asked defensively. “You sound
terrified, brother, when there is no need.”
“I am not terrified, sister, yet I am aware of your talent at
imposing your thoughts on me whenever you see fit.”
50 LISA CAMPELL
“I only wished to inform you two of our guests this

evening. The Duke of Derby and his sister, Lady Beatrice, will
be joining us for dinner.”
“There you go,” he said, biting into the cake. Amelia
couldn’t resist the smile that formed on her face. It was quite
unusual, seeing someone speak to Leonora in such a manner.
A talent that runs in the family, she supposed.
In response, Leonora stared at Malcolm rigidly. “Are you
opposed to entertaining, My Lord?” she asked in a serious yet
ironic tone.
“Will my response make any di erence, sister?”
“No, it is far too late for that.”
Malcolm breezed his eyes over to Amelia as he said, “And
there it is, again.”
Amelia’s lips twitched. His eyes on her awakened her
heart, his attention finally shifter to her presence. A concoc
tion of amusement and nervousness brewed within her, and
bravely struggled to mask it when she asked, “Have you
been busy, My Lord? We missed you this morning at
breakfast.”
“I have, indeed. My dear sister had arranged an array of
meetings for me, how kind of her.”
Amelia sensed a hint of irritation in his voice.
“I had no choice,” Leonora said sti y. “If it were up to
you… well, we know you would greatly delay your duties. And
time is of the essence.”
“Yes, yes, nothing I have not heard before. I merely
needed to take a short break, I am hardly well suited for
noble tasks, unfortunately.” He replied in a bitter tone yet
devoid of complain. He bestirred himself and clapped his
hand. “All right, I suppose I should return to my study.”
Amelia perked herself up, keeping her eyes away from
him. The maid rose as well, curtsied, and left the room. “I
shall take my leave as well,” she announced. She could feel
Lord Wilton’s eyes fixed on her as she struggled to tame her

racing heart. “I should check on Frederica.”
“O we go then,” Lord Wilton said and exited the room
swiftly. Amelia followed suit, feeling Leonora’s eyes peering at
her as she did so.
Amelia’s departure had been an act of spontaneity. She
should be keeping her distance instead of walking next him.
Despite the fact they were heading to separate directions,
they found themselves in the hallway. Alone. This is bad,
Amelia thought to herself.
“I am sure Mother is very appreciative of you checking on
her,” Lord Wilton said, facing her.
Amelia nodded ignoring that little voice within her
warning her of their current precarious state. “I believe she
would appreciate your presence even more. She must feel
quite unhappy about falling ill so quickly after your return to
London. She hoped to spend time with you. You are her
youngest child, after all, and considering how long you have
been living in Scotland ”
“Lady Wilton?” Lord Wilton said interrupting her
rambling. Amelia stopped. His blue eyes glimmered, smiled
even. “You are quite right. I shall pay her a visit as soon as my
meeting is over.”
“Yes, you should.” she said. “I will see you at dinner, My
Lord,” and then walked away.
Amelia was outraged with herself. How could she have
acted so foolishly? Ever since the new Earl arrived, her
behaviour had changed, her ladylike manners compromised.
What is the meaning of a this?
Perhaps the uncertainty of her future had meddled with
her spirits. Amelia clang to that thought and used it as her
guiding torch, the goal she wanted to reach the woman she
wished to become. Now that Arthur had passed, she was
most probably cleaving to what was best for her.
52 LISA CAMPELL
The more she thought about it though, the more she

knew her logic was faulty. Lord Wilton was a man of his own
league, a man who had the power to bring her to nothing, had
he wished to do so. That very man had been haunting her
thoughts and was now staring at her with dark, stormy eyes.
She tensed at the sight of him, realising she was still there,
and then surprised by her reaction, stepped back.
“Alright, then…” she muttered, “Now I will take my
leave.”
“Ah, yes.” He replied in shared confusion and gestured her
way o as if forming the path she had to take. Amelia obeyed.
She needed to leave. And as she walked past him, her hand
tingled at the close proximity with his.
Oh heavens, why am I being such a fool?
Amelia composed herself before she entered Frederica’s
bedchamber. She’d been lying in bed with her eyes closed, a
maid pressing a cloth to her forehead. The woman curtsied
when she saw Amelia..
“My Lady,” she greeted, bowing her head.
“It is quite alright”, she reassured her, “Is she asleep?”
Amelia asked, but at that moment, Frederica opened her
eyes. They seemed hazy and tired, as if moving them pained
her..
“Amelia,” she croaked. “You came to see me. How
wonderful.”
Amelia smiled and sat by the bed. She took her hand in
hers, patting it gently. “How could I not? I have been deep in
worry.”
“In truth, my dear, I have been unwell since this morning
but I thought I could handle it. How foolish of me. It appears
I am not as strong as I used to be.”
“Nonsense. You are the strongest woman I know. You
shall recover in no time.”
Frederica squeezed Amelia’s hand gratefully. “The physician

advised me to remain in bed for a fortnight until he visits again.
An entire fortnight in bed, can you imagine? It is maddening.”
“Your age requires rest, Frederica.”
The woman struggled to give her a bothered look,
resulting in making Amelia chuckle. “You used to be so kind,
Amelia. And here you are now, calling me old.”
“My reminding you is an act of kindness, Frederica,”
Amelia pressed warmly. “You shouldn’t strain yourself.”
“Well, you shall worry no longer. Now that Malcolm has
returned, my heart shall rest peacefully.”
Amelia frowned tenderly. “You have been concerned
about him.”
Frederica slowly shook her head in disagreement. “I was
not very concerned. You see, he has always been bright ever
since he was a child so no accomplishment of his comes as a
surprise to me. He is a man now yet still my child. I shall
never cease wondering whether he takes care of himself.
Especially now, with Arthur gone.”
Amelia’s frown only deepened. She squeezed Frederica’s
hand, engulfing it with her own. “Why did you not share your
worries with me? I couldn’t possibly have known…”
Frederica looked at her in surprise. Then she spouted a
laugh, one that escalated into a fit of wheezing coughs.
Amelia, alarmed, was about to stand when Frederica held
onto her tightly to prevent her from going anywhere. “Good
ness, Amelia,” she said the moment she calmed. “You are as
easy to tease as Leonora.”
Amelia flushed. Her mind instantly travelled back to that
time in the gardens when Lord Wilton had first arrived. “It
would seem you are not the only one who believes so,” she
murmured.
“Pardon?”
54 LISA CAMPELL
“Oh, it is nothing.” she said whisking the memory away.

“Would you like for me to read some poetry to you?”
“Oh, that would lovely. Thank you, Amelia.”
Amelia smiled warmly. When she’d returned from the
library with a poetry book in hand, Frederica had already
been half asleep. So, Amelia read to her softly, urging her
further into sleep’s embrace.
And yet again, even as she’d been reading those words,
Amelia’s mind wandered incessantly. Wandering and
wondering about him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Malcolm had been anxiously awaiting the end of this last

meeting. His mind was numb and it came as no surprise that
undertaking his brother’s title and land was no easy feat, it
didn’t feel natural to him, not the way medical sciences did.
He shrugged the thought away, determined to enjoy the
remainder of the evening.
Right now, he had to see Lady Wilton.
The urge had become insurmountable the moment he saw
her in the drawing room. He’d wished to escape from the
solicitude of his duties, he’d wished to breathe in peace. But
peace he did not find when he saw her.
She had appeared as surprised to see him as he was to see
her. At first, she seemed to ignore him so he had tried his
best to do the same. Unsuccessfully, most likely.
Easy now, he told himself. She is your brother’s widow. She
sha soon marry another man and you shan’t see her again..
The ramblings of his head stood no chance against the
wanting of his heart and body; they just wouldn’t listen.
He arrived at the dining hall a little later than expected
yet was consumed with eagerness.
56 LISA CAMPELL
Malcolm’s eyes rested on Lady Wilton instantly. She wore

black, as usual, her hair adorned by an intricate hairstyle,
curls winding up the back of her head, showering down her
face. It softened the darkness of her gown, demonstrating
every ounce of beauty that she possessed. When she noticed
him looking, her eyes lowered as if caught by surprise, but
then she turned her gaze towards him once more, a gaze
determined to not stray away. Malcolm lost himself in her
eyes, and felt his groin tighten.
Surprised as well, he forced himself to shift his attention
to their guests. Leonora was the first to speak, as expected,
“Lord Wilton, allow me to introduce His Grace, the Duke of
Derby, and his sister, Miss Beatrice Knight.”
The Duke of Derby was rather tall, with broad shoulders
and a chiselled face. His slit shaped eyes were sharp and
brown but his smile was wide and all encompassing. “My
Lord, it is an honour.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace,” Malcolm replied.
His eyes were fixated on Lady Beatrice, who held his gaze
unwaveringly. She smiled confidently, tilting her head to the
side. Her brown eyes drinking him in.
Malcolm stopped before her and bowed. “Lady Beatrice.”
She curtsied. She was rather curvy, wearing a dark green
dress that accentuated her features. “Lord Wilton. It is lovely
to finally make your acquaintance. Lady Leonora has told me
much about you.”
“Really?” Malcolm replied, glancing at Leonora while
sitting at the head of the table. He then looked at Amelia but
she did not look back.
“You sound almost sceptical,” Lady Beatrice said, her lips
forming a discreet smile. “Is it so inconceivable to you that
your sister would praise you?”
“Inconceivable is one way to phrase it,” he murmured,
earning a hearty giggle from Lady Beatrice.
He glanced at Amelia again. She was quiet but then again

she usually kept to herself when around others. It seemed she
was not the type to speak much unless she was spoken to.
Malcolm was about to speak when the Duke of Derby
asked, “I believe this is not the first time we meet, Lady
Wilton?”
Lady Wilton looked at him and said, “No, My Lord. We
happened to meet at my wedding breakfast.”
“Ah, yes, quite right! I must say, you look as dashing in
black as you did in white.”
Lady Wilton looked at the Duke with a frown, clearly
surprised by his remark. Malcolm was equally as shocked. It
was as blatant a compliment as ever and it was obvious Lady
Wilton struggled to form a proper response.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said finally.
Malcolm watched her. She returned to her silence.
Then she breezed her eyes to him but when she realised
he’d been looking at her, she glanced away swiftly.
“I often wondered if you had made your debut that
Season, my Lady,” the Duke went on. “It would have been
such a shame to miss such a lovely lady as yourself.”
Malcolm was in disbelief. The Duke’s intentions were
unknown to him and judging by the manner Lady Wilton
gripped at her spoon, he knew she felt deeply uncomfortable.
And he felt the same.
“Were you in London during the last Season, Your
Grace?” Malcolm asked, hoping he would change the course
of this conversation.
The Duke of Derby nodded. “Indeed I was. You see, my
Sister had made her debut so I could never miss the occasion.
Her success was undeniable, flocks of suitors came rushing
after her. To no surprise, of course.”
“All of them considered me a vision,” Lady Beatrice said
bombastically. “But, alas, not one of them I deemed suitable!”
58 LISA CAMPELL
“Is that so?” Leonora intervened. “Tell me, Lady Beatrice,

are you in search of your love match?”
“Oh Lady Leonora, I shall aim at meeting someone who
can engage in intelligent conversation, to the very least. Most
of them are so dull.”
“Ah, the pressures of being a lady of the Ton,” Malcolm
said dryly. “You are faced with so many suitors, the allure of
courting has been completely lost.”
Lady Beatrice giggled. “Quite right, My Lord. I suppose
you have never encountered any trouble in courting a lady.”
“I wouldn’t know as I have never courted one.”
Lady Beatrice opened her mouth in utter shocked.
“Is that so?” she gasped.
To Malcolm’s surprise, Lady Wilton was the one who
spoke next.
Her voice was levelled, her eyes chilled and directed
towards Lady Beatrice. “Lord Wilton, until recently, has been
in Scotland pursuing a medical profession. I suppose he
simply did not have the time.”
“Scotland, you say?” the Duke interrupted. “How marvel
lous. Have you ever been, Lady Wilton?”
She blinked at him. “No, I have not.”
“My, then, I must take you there one day. You will be
enamoured by Scotland’s natural beauty.”
Leonora giggled in an unnatural and forceful manner. “My
my, Your Grace, you know well that Lady Wilton could never
accompany you unless she was your wife!”
The Duke’s face beamed. Malcolm’s, on the other hand,
darkened to the core. The mere sight of the Duke’s aggra
vating face filled him with inexplicable anger.
“Oh, Lady Leonora, what a wonderful thought,” the Duke
said teasingly.
Lady Wilton’s eyes flared. “Your Grace, your jest is quite
flattering, however, there is no need for me to marry should I

wish to visit Scotland. Lord Wilton has ”
“Lord Wilton might have other plans,” Lady Beatrice
interrupted her unremorsefully. She turned her body towards
Malcolm, batting her eyelashes. “Do you wish to marry, My
Lord?”
“As the Earl of Wilton,” Leonora intervened, “I should
hope so.”
Malcolm ignored his sister but fixated his eyes on Lady
Beatrice, vexed that she would so rudely interrupt Lady
Wilton speaking. “I have entertained the idea,” he said slowly
struggling to compose himself, “However, I consider the
ladies of the Ton rather dull.”
Lady Beatrice leaned closer, her brows lifted in an expec
tant and exuberant manner. “What is it you dislike, my Lord?”
“An overly flirtatious attitude. Rude manners. To name a
few”, he said in a static tone.
Malcolm considered it best to refrain from elaborating
more on the subject.
“I wish to learn more about Lady Wilton,” the Duke said,
drawing Malcolm’s attention away from Lady Beatrice. He
narrowed his eyes at the Duke but he didn’t seem to notice as
his eyes were peered at Lady Wilton and Lady Wilton, in
return, looked visibly uncomfortable.
“What is it that you wish to know?” she asked.
“Do you intend to remarry, my Lady? I very well know you
are in mourning but I cannot help but wonder. I would loathe
to think of a charming, beautiful lady like you drowning in
solitude; without a man to take care of her.”
I can take care of her. Malcolm almost shouted out loud.
Thankfully, he restrained himself to silence. He looked at his
sister grimly, expecting her to halt this madness but she
looked almost…pleased. Had she planned this?
60 LISA CAMPELL
“I have… not given it much thought,” Lady Wilton said

after a long pause.
“Ah, forgive my insensitivity.” The Duke said while
flashing her a smile that should have been sympathetic,
considering the topic, yet seemed far too flirtatious. “You
should take your time. But I would hate to witness such a
flower as yourself wither away devoid of any company.”
“I appreciate your concern, Your Grace,” Lady Wilton
said strongly. “But there is no need for you to worry.”
The Duke of Derby shrugged. Malcolm tried to ignore
him but his intentions were clear as day and, judging by
Leonora’s silence, he had a feeling she had been the one to
harbour it. After all, she’d made it clear that she wished to see
Lady Wilton remarry. And should Leonora throw that ball,
Malcolm was certain the Duke of Derby would waste no time
asking Lady Wilton to dance.
Jealousy had been brewing wildly within Malcolm’s soul;
wild as a fire, overpowering like a volcano. During the entire
course of the evening, the Duke had been forcing suggestive
remarks on Lady Wilton which made her all the more uncom
fortable and uneasy. And whenever Malcolm attempted to
come to her aid, Lady Beatrice would sprout like an unwanted
weed. Her arrogance was stifling, never missing a chance to
boast about being the object of many gentlemen’s desires and
that, said desire, she was gracefully bestowing onto him.
Insu erable.
The dinner lasted for what seemed like a century. Leonora
barely spoke, except to blandish the Duke and Lady Beatrice
into boasting their confidence even further. As the dinner
drew to an end, Lady Wilton’s countenance appeared rather
drained and exhausted for every time she spoke, she quivered;
a sight that filled Malcolm with sympathy towards her and
anger towards everybody else.
“It has been truly an honour, My Lord,” Lady Beatrice
said once the evening was over. They all rose, heading
towards the door. Malcolm struggled not to look back at
Lady Wilton who had chosen to keep her distance.
“Shall we end this fine evening with a glass of whiskey, my
Lord?” the Duke suggested.
“What a fine idea, Your Grace, but you must excuse me. I
have urgent matters to attend to tomorrow, an Earl never
rests.” He said dryly, “I bid you goodnight, Your Grace. Lady
Beatrice.”
Lady Beatrice curtsied. “Perhaps we shall see you again
soon?”’
“Perhaps.” He said indi erently as he gestured to the
butler. “Now, if you would allow the butler to escort you.”
The Duke slowly gazed at Lady Wilton one last time. His
glance was ostentatious, pompous. Malcolm’s hand formed
into a fist, suddenly feeling the urge to use that fist against
the Duke. But, soon enough, he looked away. “Very well, then.
Goodbye. Beatrice, come.”
When the insu erable pair finally left, the dining hall was
plunged into silence. Then, Lady Wilton sighed heavily. “I too
will take my leave”, she said.
“The Duke and his sister seemed quite happy,” Leonora
said, ignoring Lady Wilton. “I shall invite them again should,
what say you, Malcolm?”
“I would rather eat my shoe,” Malcolm replied in a pesky
tone as he stared at Lady Wilton.
She was unaware of him, her gaze lowered to the floor.
She seemed pale.
“Oh, so dramatic,” Leonora said in such a calming, indif
ferent manner that most certainly proved she had orches
trated the entire night.
Lady Wilton curtsied. “If you would excuse me”, she
mumbled and left.
Malcolm followed her keenly.
CHAPTER NINE
Amelia could sense she was being followed but chose not to
look back. She headed straight to the drawing roo,, onto the
bar and swiftly poured herself a glass of sherry.
Leonora was most likely tailing her, eager to discuss with
her about this evening’s events. Then again, how could she
have possibly not notice the profound uneasiness that so
obviously troubled her?
However, her instincts knew the person following her
wasn’t Leonora.
“Would you fancy a glass?” she asked him, holding up her
sherry.
He slowly looked at her hand, then her. Eventually, he
shook his head.
She shrugged and faced the window. The night was dark
but she needn’t see much for her mind was worlds away.
Amelia paid heed to his movements. She heard the
clinking sound of the decanter pouring whiskey into the glass.
Then, silence. A few moments later, she heard his footsteps
approaching her, finally reaching her. Malcolm was now next
to her.
Exhausted as she seemed, he still managed to get a reac

tion out of her as she tightly gripped the glass in her hand.
“Lady Wilton, if I may, you do not seem well.”
Amelia kept her gazed fixed on the darkness ahead. She
knew his words had been an indirect question. A question she
expected but did not know the answer to. After a while, she
couldn’t help but be honest. “No, I am not well, my Lord.
Tonight has been a nightmare I wholeheartedly loathed, a
nightmare I was so openly told it will not cease to exist for
the nights to come.”
“It doesn’t need to be this way.”
Amelia impulsively sco ed in disbelief. The sound she
made was quite unladylike and truly not a proud moment but
she couldn’t mask it any longer.
Still gazing at the dark expanse before her, Amelia ignored
Lord Wilton’s lingering eyes. “It cannot be any other way, I
fear,” she said. “I am a widow. And much like beggars, I am
not at liberty to be a choser.”
“Then… you do entertain the prospect of remarrying?”
Amelia was lost. Conflicted and ridden with worry. The
plan was to remarry, yes. But was it a good plan? What
good could ever come of such a plan if she were to marry
the Duke? His reputation preceded him, he was a complete
rake; she’d heard the rumours even before marrying
Arthur.
“If I may, lady, but your silence proves you might not be
ready to remarry still,” Lord Wilton said gently. “I saw you
tonight. You did not like that man, not in the slightest.”
“He is quite handsome,” it was all she managed to say.
“Then do you believe me handsome as well?”
And as he posed that question, Lord Wilton faced her
causing her heart to flutter, her breath uneasy. She shrugged
and said, “Yes, I do. However, we aren’t talking about you,
are we?”
64 LISA CAMPELL
He chuckled. “Fair enough. My only hope was to see you

smile.”
“You are quite terrible at it,” she murmured, and the Earl
laughed again.
Amelia’s lips formed into a shy smile which she quickly
masked. She needed to empty her chest o all the worry
welling up within her. “Wilfully wishing to remarry is a
matter,” she said, “which is completely di erent to being
forced to remarry.”
“We both know of Leonora’s stubbornness. I am afraid it
shall take more than a heartfelt chat to change her mind.”
“This does not involve Leonora alone,” Amelia said
recalling how Leonora’s behaviour at dinner irked and
saddened her. “Your mother also shares her views. She
believes remarrying would be in my best interest.”
“What do you believe?”
“I… know not.”
Amelia could not longer hide her discontent. She could
only hope it wasn’t much obvious. She finished her sherry
hoping it would mask her expression from the Earl’s attentive
eyes. She was feeling vulnerable and was determined not to
expose herself further.
She then turned around and approached the bar when his
hand touched hers. She could hear the beating of her heart.
She slowly looked at the Earl, eyes wide. He was touching her
arm lightly and then gently pulled her before him.
Amelia held her breath. Memories from the previous
night awakened, and much like the previous night, she was
unable to move. This was wrong, if someone were to find
them there, all alone, the scandal would be tremendous and
devastating for them both. Especially her.
But all Amelia could do was stare into his sapphire eyes.
“If only I could console you,” he murmured, his breath
brushing against her lip. Amelia wondered if he could feel her
trembling before him. “I wish I knew the right thing to say to

make you feel better.”
“No one ever knows the right thing to say,” she murmured
back. She knew she should pull away and yet her limbs were
numb. “Your presence… is more than enough.”
Should I…should I have said that? Amelia couldn’t tell. Her
brain had been in a chaotic state and as his lips slowly
lowered towards hers, her body tensed in anticipation. She
was eager to feel that which she chose to walk away from the
previous night. The same thing she’d been fantasising about
all day.
Then, just when their lips were about to touch, she
stepped back once more. Her sudden reaction nearly had her
stumbling, her head was hazy, and her heartbeat echoed
through the manor. Or so she thought.
Malcolm said nothing. His eyes were full of regret. And a
hint of apology maybe. Amelia was certain hers were the
same.
She said nothing, she couldn’t. All she did was turn her
back to him and walk away. Her abidance in that room could
prove disastrous to her future. A disaster she could not a ord.
CHAPTER TEN
Seconds turned to minutes and then eternity itself. Malcolm

was standing still, staring at the door she had just walked out
of, his mind afire with thoughts.
I did it again. God, when wi I learn?
He sighed heavily. He feared his behaviour would chase
her away before he had the chance to know her better. The
single thing he feared most though was making his feelings
known.
Feelings. What a blasted word. He couldn’t possibly do
such a thing. Not while she was so confused about her future
and her desires. Not while he was still unable to fathom the
workings of his heart. He’d only met her yesterday and yet,
every time he saw her, his a ection seemed to grow deeper
and deeper, morphing into a feeling reserved for lovers. But
they were not lovers. They were almost strangers.
Yet he was aware of the special closeness that existed
between them. He could feel it every time they were in the
same room, every time she’d invaded his thoughts. Flustered,
he rushed out of the room intent on finding her nestled
somewhere in the shadows.
And there she was, standing on the same terrace he had

nearly kissed Lady Wilton on only yesterday. Leonora was
playing with her hair, looking out the view. A discreet smile
was on her face.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked, folding his arms.
She looked at him and frowned. “What can you mean?”
Malcolm could feel the agitation accumulated within him
rise. “Your intentions were abundantly clear,” he said. “Did
you or did you not cunningly invite the Duke and his sister
because you see them as respective matches for Lady Wilton
and I?”
“Oh, Malcolm, would I be so conniving?”
Without hesitation he said, “Yes, you would.”
Leonora shook her head. “I considered the matches
adequate and decent. And, Malcolm, I don’t appreciate your
rudeness.”
He sighed exasperatedly. After all these years, she hadn’t
changed. Her controlling, stubborn nature was unshakable.
“An I do not appreciate you interfering with my life,
Leonora,” he warned. “And you shouldn’t interfere with Lady
Wilton’s either.”
“Oh, heavens, Malcolm! What is it, you consider Lady
Wilton and the Duke a bad match?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
Leonora scowled. “Your opinion hardly matters. Both of
you need to marry. You are the Earl of Wilton, for heaven’s
sake. Whether you wish to accept it or not, this is one of your
duties a rather important one. You are in need of a suitable
wife and an heir. Heirs, might I say.
Malcolm instantly thought of Lady Wilton as his wife. In
his bed. Bearing his child. He gritted his teeth, desperately
trying to mask his expression. “What about Lady Wilton? Do
you wish for her to leave the manor?”
“Yes,” Leonora stated. “She is a widow, Malcolm. She
68 LISA CAMPELL
should remarry, start her life anew. Her abidance here would
prevent this from happening.”
Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “For a moment there, it
almost sounded as if you had her true best interests at heart.”
“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand dismissively. “And she
should stay here no more. An unwanted guest is a burden.”
Malcolm’s battle to suppress the anger surging from
within him was straining. He chose his own words carefully.
“Believe what you wish, Leonora, but I warn you; you should
leave me and Lady Wilton alone. Should she wish to marry, I
am certain she would be perfectly able to find a husband
without your meddling.”
Leonora pouted. “Miss Beatrice is amiable, Malcolm. And
quite taken with you.”
“Beauty means nothing before such arrogance. I will not
be shackled to a woman like her.”
“What is it you wish to do then? Not marry at all?”
“Whatever it is I wish, you shall respect it.”
Leonora stood there in disbelief yet strangely amused, as
if challenged to a wager. “Is that all you wish to say to me?”
she asked.
“For now.” He said decidedly wishing to assert his domi
nance, ensuring his sister would not misbehave once again.
“Very well, I shall heed you”, she said in a rather uncon
vincing tone.
“Now, if you will excuse me,” he said. “I shall take my
leave.”
“Goodnight, then.” Leonora turned her back to him.
Malcolm left, feeling a little uneasy. He’d stated clearly he
would not marry Lady Beatrice. Yet he felt Leonora’s plans
had hardly been exposed.
Morning dawned slowly after a sleepless night. Lady Wilton

with her tender eyes and soft lips had mercilessly invaded his
dreams. She’d tortured him, driving him mad with her fiery
touches and sultry smiles. Malcolm awoke and his body
followed suit.
He rubbed his eyes trying to chafe the exhaustion away.
He was walking to the drawing room, hoping a cup of tea and
scones would induce life back to him. A long, tedious day lied
ahead of him full of duties he despised and meetings he
detested.
The fatigue he so deeply felt disappeared into nothing
ness the moment he saw Lady Wilton sitting on the couch.
Once again her back facing him as she lifted a small teacup to
her lips and hummed. “Ah, that is wonderful.”
Malcolm blinked. He didn’t move, a slow smile creeped
over her face as she twiddled her fingers before the array of
cakes. “Which should I choose?” she asked herself softly. “Ah,
this one looks very tasty.”
“Did it tell you that?”
She jumped, letting out an audible gasp. Malcolm grinned
as he sat opposite her.
Her cheeks flushed. “Have you formed the habit of eaves
dropping on me?”
“Forgive me but I couldn’t help it when I saw you talk to
yourself ”, He gestured to the cakes before her. “Or rather,
saw you talking to beings that cannot talk back”, he added
with a smile.
Her flushed cheeks turned red and she was mesmerising.
He wished to join her, sit next to her, diminish the distance
between them. Yet, he resisted. This was a line he shouldn’t
cross.
She picked up a piece of plum cake, taking a small bite.
Her eyes stayed peered at her hand, as if trying to avoid him.
Perhaps she wished him gone so that she may be left in peace
70 LISA CAMPELL
with her cakes and scones. It did not matter though because
he couldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t.
Malcolm then cleared his throat mustering as much
courage as he possibly could when he said, “About last
night…”
“Last night?” Lady Wilton looked at him curiously. “Some
thing happened?”
He blinked. “I…well, yes.”
“Oh?” She said and blinked in a bemusing manner.
Or rather, she was merely pretending. He could tell her
discomfort by the manner she carried herself, should couldn’t
fool him. No doubt she wanted to leave it all behind her.
Malcolm needed to discuss this with her. The sudden real
isation, the way she stole her breath. He needed to communi
cate his desire to kiss her and that should another
opportunity arise, he would not let it slip away. He had to
know whether she too felt this ecstatic tension between
them, the way they were drawn to one another. Malcolm
wanted to know whether she shared the feelings he did.
Her reluctance to acknowledge their almost kiss was probably a
response on its own, he thought to himself.
“Ah,” she then said, “well, if your indirect question was in
reference to our discussion, you should know I am very
grateful to Leonora for caring even though her methods are
rather questionable.”
“Questionable? You’re very kind.”
A fleeting smile formed across her face. Malcolm’s chest
warmed at the mere sight. “Probably. In truth, I do need to
marry. And you should as well. And then I shall move on to
another gentleman who will take care of me.”
Her words lacked the conviction needed for him to
believe her. He watched the way she brushed the crumbs o
her finger, how gently she sipped o her teacup. She was
beautiful in all of her movement, from the way she reclined
her head and looked out the window, to the way her eyes
beamed as she looked at her food.
In addition to all these striking details, something entirely
di erent called to him. Whatever laid underneath her lady
like exterior was the very bane of his existence. He noticed
when she had taken the caterpillar in the garden or how
ardently she disregarded whether the grass would smear her
dress. And when she’d drunk the sherry last night, with her
eyes growing distant.
It had been this intoxicating potion of beauty and
mystery that had enraptured him so and rendered it so di
cult for him to accept the possibility of her leaving. So he
said, “Lady Wilton, would you like to take a turn with me in
the gardens?”
She seemed surprised. “Oh. That would be lovely, My
Lord. Is there something you wish to speak to me about?”
Malcolm shook his head. “Perhaps I only wish to enjoy
your company before I am forced to resume my tedious
duties.”
She smiled again and gestured him to lead the way.
Walking next to her flooded his head with words he wish to
say and deeds he desired to act on. He wished to take her
hand in his, speak to her of her beauty, unfold his heart
before her, confessing the love within.
They walked along a shaded path. She wore no bonnet
hence the occasional rays of sunlight entangled in her hair
would cast an entrancing shade of gold on her luscious
mane.
“It has been made clear to me you worry about your
future”, he said, “long prior to my arrival”.
“Indeed, my Lord.”
“I gather your position is delicate, however, I wouldn’t
wish for you to feel compelled to leave. You are Arthur’s
widow and this is your house too.”
72 LISA CAMPELL
His words took her by surprise. He lowered his eyes and

saw her clench her hands. “Are you certain…?”
“Of course. You are family, Lady Wilton.”
Family, indeed. But not rea y.
“This is very kind of you, My Lord. I thank you deeply.”
“It is what Arthur would have wanted.”
“How would you know?” she asked, her tone idle. Should
he be worried? “You said it yourself, you weren’t close. How
could you know of his desires?”
“’Tis true but this much I know: Arthur was a good man
and I am sure he loved you.”
Malcolm realised the place where he first saw her was not
far from where they stood. His heartbeat escalated and he
couldn’t take his eyes o her. He should control himself.
“You cannot know whether he loved me,” she said.
Malcolm frowned. She looked up at him, her eyes drenched
in devilish mischief. “It is quite possible, my Lord, I might
have orchestrated our entire marriage so that I could reap its
benefits.”
“Ah, I gather you only care for your self interest then.”
“It is rather likely.”
Malcolm nodded mirthfully. “You seem to have forgotten
an important detail, My Lady.”
“Oh?”
“I still possess the power to rescind my decision. Not one
word has been set in stone. Perhaps next time you should be a
little more cautious when revealing compromising details
regarding your evil schemes.”
She fell silent for a moment. And then, she reacted in a
way he could never expect. She laughed. Not an artful, digni
fied kind of laugh but one that was real and hearty and filled
the air surrounding him with beauty and magic. They stopped
by the gazebo as he watched her wonderful laugh fade away.
“Very well, then,” she said. “I shall keep that in mind”, she
added as her eyes beamed.
“Ah, the art of learning, My Lady”. He was amazed at his
capability to maintain his verbal coherence considering her
e ect on him.
He watched her beautiful green eyes slide away. “My, I… I
cannot remember when I laughed last.”
“Did Arthur make you laugh?” he heard himself ask.
Perhaps their marriage had been loveless. The mere thought
pleased him.
She nodded. “He did, yes. But… unlike that.”
Then, she looked at him a feature lying behind her
glance he was unable to decipher. He tried not to. Suddenly,
he had been made aware of their proximity.
“Lady Wilton, I feel I must apologise for ”
He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before she
kissed him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Was this but a mere dream? She could feel her arms engulfing
his neck, her lips on his lips. No, this wasn’t a dream.
Malcolm was taken aback by her unexpected valour but his
body surrendered to her inviting touch.
His hands journeyed down her waist as he leaned into the
kiss, the tension in his limbs easing. Malcolm wondered if she
could feel the pounding of his heart because he surely felt
hers as they beat as one.
His lips were soft, as hers were gentle upon his. And like
an awakening long overdue, she realised what she’d wanted
since that night on the terrace.
Him.
Malcolm growled as he drew her closer to his body, deep
ening their kiss. The sound of him maddened her. His sturdy
chest pressing against her breasts set her lust afire. She was
eager she needed more but she wanted to breathe him in so
she slowed her passionate attack as she touched his tongue
with hers.
She curled her fingers in his hair, her tongue meeting his,
lost in a fervour of ever growing heat. They stood by the
gazebo’s entrance, surrounded by roses and swirling magic.

When Malcolm slowly pushed her back against one of the
pillars, Amelia did not protest. And when his hand caressed
her waist down to her thigh, all around her back, she allowed
herself to feel it all. Even when his lips descended towards her
neck, she gasped in pleasure.
The kiss was intoxicating, everything she’d ever imagined
and more. She feared he could sense the inexperience in her
kiss but decided to brush that thought of and revel in the
moment. His kisses had transformed into gentle love bites
planting need and lust on every ounce of her body. She clung
to him, raising her leg, engulfing him with it. Nothing else
mattered anymore but them.
Malcolm was leaving a trail of kisses down her body, now
slowly moving onto her chest. He gently cupped her breast as
he did so, devouring her tenderly, watching her taking it all in.
Amelia knew this was improper of them but she wanted him
no she needed him.
But when his lips brushed against her breasts, Amelia
pulled away.
Lord Wilton stepped back, panting. He ran his hands
through his hair, eyes widened. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t
have ”
“No!” She rushed to him, taking his hands in hers. “No,
don’t apologise. It was I who kissed you.”, she said “I have no
regret. I merely believe there is no need to hurry.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Lord Wilton’s
demeanour looked strange. His face was red, and he was
breathing heavily as if he’d just exerted himself to exhaustion.
But when he realised there had been no remorse on her part,
he exhaled in relief.. “I feared I had overstepped. Again.” he
admitted with a shy smile.
“It is I who overstepped”, she said “a force came over me,
took control of me”, she added.
76 LISA CAMPELL
“The same force that came over me that night on the

terrace and in the parlour,” he told her. He took her hands
in his, holding her firmly, leaning closer. “Only this time, we
both had the courage to surrender.”
“Courage? Or lunacy?”
“Perhaps both?” he suggested with a grin. “Greatness
comes with a bit of madness.”
“Then I am happy we are mad, Lord Wilton”, she said
with a smile.
“Please, call me, Malcolm.” He said planting a delicate kiss
on her forehead. “I must return to my study. Leonora could
be looking for me. I wouldn’t wish for us to compromise
ourselves to her insipid curiosity.”
“Is that so?” she mused softly.
His beautiful face responded with a beaming smile,
warming Amelia’s heart. “That is so, indeed, Amelia”, he said
looking at her lovingly.
That was so, indeed. Amelia’s heart thumped with pleasure
and fear. He kissed her again as he stepped away, unable to let go
of her hand until the very last moment. As he walked back to the
manor, he glanced at her over his shoulder, and then he was gone.
Amelia’s limbs felt weak so she sat on the bench in the
gazebo. She sighed longingly. She’d stopped his advances out
of fear for losing control. Fear he would discover her secret;
that she’d been in a loveless marriage. A secret that would
lead to more questions questions that would reveal another
secret she’d vowed to never tell.
She looked at where he’d been few moments ago, her
heart still beating frenziedly. She’d felt so safe in his presence.
In his kiss she found a promise, a care, a feeling of tenderness
and comfort. Had she kissed him out of fear for the uncer
tainty of her future? Or out of a place profoundly within her
soul whispering to her this is real…
Amelia failed to respond.
Amelia had casually inquired of Leonora’s whereabouts in

hopes of avoiding her.
On her way to the library, Leonora sprouted out of
nowhere and accosted her. Knowing her chances to escape
were non existent, she faced her and smiled politely.
“My dear, I couldn’t help but wonder about you”, Leonora
said.
“Is there something you wish to share?” Amelia asked
kindly.
Leonora nodded as Amelia felt her heart plummet. She
knew Leonora would be entirely indiscreet regarding the
previous night’s dinner, she knew she’d ask questions. And
Amelia was a bad liar.
I shouldn’t lie, Amelia thought to herself. I shan’t pretend.
The Duke is highly insufferable and that sha be the end of this.
Besides, Lord Wilton Malcolm reassured me I could extend my
stay as long as I’d liked.
The mere thought of disclosing all this to Leonora
agitated her.
“Indeed. I should also require your assistance. Prepara
tions for the ball must be immaculate and you shall help me
decorate.”
“Oh, well, I was about to sit by the fire and ”
“Nonsense.” To Amelia’s surprise, Leonora took her arm
in hers and urged Amelia into the library. She’d never been
this friendly. “I require your help and there are matters we
should discuss about.”
“There are?” Amelia tensed.
“Yes, indeed. Heavens, Amelia, how many times must I
78 LISA CAMPELL
iterate this? Goodness, poor Arthur, having to endure your

absent mindedness. Now, sit.”
Amelia flinched at Leonora’s impertinence. She most
certainly did not sit. And as a token of rebelliousness, she
walked over to the fireplace, instead searching for a book to
read. She heard Leonora sigh behind her.
“Forgive me,” she said after a while. “Planning this ball
causes me nervousness. Malcolm is hardly interested and he’s
supposed to be the evening’s guest of honour.”
Amelia faced her, pressing the book to her chest as if
using it as armour to protect her from Leonora’s scathing
words. She’d always been a rather strong person, not particu
larly bothered by what others had to say. She’d endured a lot
prior to marrying into this family, but Leonora harboured this
unwanted talent of agitating her. For the most part, she was
polite. Friendly, even. Able to develop discussions with her,
feel included and accepted.
Other times though, she sensed a disliking from Leonora’s
side, as if she wished her gone. Perhaps this had been the
reason she played matchmaker with the Duke; Leonora
wanted her out of the house, away from their lives.
“It is likely he wishes to avoid attending the ball,” Amelia
suggested. Leonora’s eyes widened and gestured dismissively
as she sank into a chair.
“I hope you are mistaken. You must be. It is imperative he
attends as it would honour Arthur’s legacy. Additionally, it
shall be an excellent opportunity for you both to scout your
prospects in marriage.”
Amelia nearly sighed. “Certainly, the funeral was a su
cient honour? There is no need for you to worry about our
marriage ”
“Are you opposed to the ball, as well?” Leonora asked
calmly.
Amelia answered honestly, “I am. But I can see it be a

cause of trouble and "
“There is but one trouble, Amelia Malcolm’s stubborn
ness. But no matter, I shall not vex myself further. He
confirmed his attendance regardless of his desires. That is
enough. “ she said confidently. “Now, on to more pressing
matters. The ball is nigh, there is no time to waste.”
Amelia sighed silently. “Very well. How can I help?”
Leonora’s monologue felt endless. She spared no details.
The adornments should math the theme of the ball; spring
time garden. A theme urging guests to wear bright, floral
colours and which was based entirely on Leonora’s newly
tailored gown that was, naturally, floral. Every question she’d
asked Amelia was hardly important carved candles and
additional centrepieces barely ensured the success of a ball.
Amelia answered distractedly. Something about roses instead
of lilies.
The entire ordeal lasted a few tormenting minutes.
Leonora ignored and overlooked Amelia’s opinions. Appar
ently, this ball had merely been an excuse to speak with her.
“Did you enjoy dinner? Last night.” Leonora asked.
Amelia was familiar with her stance. “It was a fine dinner,
indeed.”
“Fine? Well, I considered our guests rather entertaining.
No?”
Amelia straddled between being honest or kind. “I did
not care for the Duke,” she replied truthfully.
Leonora frowned in surprise. “Oh? Well, he did seem
quite taken with you.”
“Does being taken excuse impolite behaviour, Leonora?
His improper remarks were overbearing.”
“Well, my dear. A man who knows what he wants, that is
all I noticed.”
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“Does certainty of his desires excuse his disregard towards

mine?”
“How foolish of you!”
Amelia blinked at Leonora’s harshness. Her sister in law
leaned closer and said in a low voice,
“He is handsome and charming, and a duke. He is
perfectly able to take care of you, and you shall bear him an
heir, and live a happy and comfortable life. Is that not what
you want?”
What I want is to mourn no longer. Amelia was deeply vexed.
“I need not concern myself about marriage yet. I am still in
mourning.” She said calmly. “Besides, Lord Wilton has
assured me I may extend my stay according to my liking”.
Leonora leaned back. She seemed slightly shocked. “Mal
colm told you this?”
“Indeed. He was very kind.”
“Yes.” Leonora pursed her lips. “Naturally. He is a kind
man, my brother.” She paused a while as if deep in thought.
“Amelia,” she said looking at her, “I am well acquainted with
the Duke and I must say he was probably taken aback by his
a ections. Courting a lady can be taxing. You should give him
another chance.”
Leonora looked at her observantly. The thought had never
occurred to Amelia. Almost feeling guilty about it she said,
“Well, I suppose…”
“Wonderful.” Leonora snapped as if needing to hear
nothing else. “I shall check on mama. I appreciate your help,
Amelia” she added and left.
“Certainly.” Amelia said knowing well Leonora was gone
already. A sense of disquiet filled her chest. Something was a
miss with her sister in law. Amelia suspected she had been
pretending the entire time.
.
As soon as she ensured her privacy, Amelia reached for
the note nestled inside her stocking. The butler had handed
it to her moments prior to Leonora’s arrival. It had been from
Malcolm and her skin had been burning to read it ever since
she touched it. Only a few hours had passed since their kiss.
She opened the letter impatiently.
Lovely Amelia,
Everywhere I look, I see your face reminding me of our kiss
your intoxicating lips. You occupy my mind and dominate my
thoughts.
I burn for the moment I sha lay my eyes on you again.
Perhaps, this time, we could share that glass of whiskey.
Lovingly,
Malcolm.
Amelia’s face was a beacon of light. She rushed to the
desk and wrote her response.
Malcolm,
I sha happily share a glass of whiskey with you, albeit sherry is
my drink of preference.
Your letter awakens an anticipation in me the likes of which I
have never felt.
Forgive my saying so but I revel in the fact you think of me for I
think of you too. Incessantly,
I wish you we . I wish you were here.
Amelia.
She swiftly folded the letter and handed it to the butler.
Her face was beaming with joi. Time would pass slowly and
excruciatingly until the moment she’d see him again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Malcolm had read Amelia’s not a few moments before dinner.

She looked as heart stopping as ever, her porcelain skin a
perfect contrast to the darkness of her gown. The glow of
candlelight adorning the dinner table reflected on her face,
transcending her humanity, elevating her to an ethereal
beauty. Even during Leonora’s constant bickering about the
ball, Malcolm was fixated on her.
The poetry in her beauty shined so vividly. He felt so
happy, sharing this space with her. If only he could express his
emotions, act on his thoughts, right there.
“Malcolm? May I speak with you?”
He was about to follow Amelia as they exited the dining
hall when Leonora interrupted. Before leaving the room, she
had graced him with a fleeting glance in her way suggesting
he should follow her.
“Yes?” he replied to Leonora in a rather exasperated
tone.
“How was your day?” she asked. She was still seated at the
table showing no intention to move. “You barely said two
words at dinner, is everything alright?”
“Challenging. Earldom is certainly demanding.” he

answered honestly. “But all is well.”
“I’m glad to know.” Her eyes were piercing. There was
more to this. “I spoke to Amelia this afternoon.” She said and
paused as if waiting for a comment on his part. “She informed
me you were kind enough to let her know she could stay as
long she wished.”
“She is my brother’s widow, Leonora. She deserves the
kindness.”
“Yes.” Leonora nodded, finally bestirring herself. She
approached him slowly and looked at him deeply. “Yes,
indeed, she is your brother’s widow. You shouldn’t forget
about that.”
Malcolm stood still. He didn’t take his eyes o her as she
walked away, leaving him alone with those words hanging in
the air. But even long after she was gone, they reverberated
through him. She is your brother’s widow..
No, he did not care. Not after the kiss they shared.
Amelia was waiting for him on the terrace, guilt was the last
emotion he should feel. He shook his worries away and
rushed to meet her.
She was standing at the very same spot. The evening
breeze played with her hair, causing her dress to dance. Her
face turned towards the sky, illuminated by the moon. She did
not notice him admiring after her, fantasising about their
heated kiss. He breathed and marched towards her holding
the decanter and two glasses of whiskey.
Amelia looked at him in surprise, “My lord, have you been
here all this time?” she said shyly.
He bridged the distance between them, discarding the
glasses on the railing. Her presence was su cient enough to
intoxicate him.
“A few moments only,” he said, his voice deep.
The moon shined gloriously behind her, darkening the
84 LISA CAMPELL
emerald of her eyes. But even so, he could see through them.
The surprise, the pleasure, the shyness. Her ivory skin
glowed under the starlight and he reached out, wanting to
touch her.
“We are not safe here,” she said, her voice a hushed
whisper as their fingers curled around each other’s.
“I know.” He whispered, looking at her in drunken plea
sure. Leonora’s words had impacted him. Amelia was the
apple he wasn’t allowed to taste. “A few moments longer”, he
murmured hazily.
“Pleasing you is an easy task, I see,” she teased.
He smiled fleetingly. Then, knowing she was right, he let
her go. “How was your day?” he asked.
“Uneventful,” she answered honestly. He moved next to
her, facing the manor. She turned and looked at him. “And
your tedious meetings?”
“Mind numbing,” he said, and she giggled. Music to his
hears. “All I hoped for was to see you again.”
“I can see you take no pleasure in the Earldom,” she
pointed out.
He looked at her and nodded.“There are a million things
on this earth I would rather do than this,” he sighed bitterly.
“Like the position you were forced to abandon?” she
asked.
Malcolm nodded. The wound was sore still. He cursed at
the cruelty of fate for taking Arthur away, for forcing him to
return.
However, he knew that had he stayed in Scotland, he
never would have met her.
“Talk to me,” she urged, her voice barely a whisper.
“My interest in medicine was born when, as a child, as I
read the works of Edward Jenner. I used to hide in the library
with this book on my lap and my poor governess would
search for me across the manor.”
“Reading about medicine at such a tender age. What an

intelligent boy.” She said and smiled.
“My father used to boast about my genius when in the
company of friends”, he chuckled. “I never cared though,
nothing else mattered as long as I were free to study, and
research and pursue my dreams.”
“Is this the reason you and Arthur were not close?” she
said reluctantly.
The mention of Arthur’s name stung his chest. His death
was followed by regret Malcolm regretted not spending
enough time with his brother. But hearing Amelia say his
name, he wondered whether she had loved him.
“Partly,” he admitted. “Our interests di ered vastly yet we
are so alike. We both devoted ourselves to our passions. But
Arthur always found time for the family. My being the
youngest relieved me of so much worry. I was free to make
my own choices unlike Arthur.”
Whether his words a ected her, he couldn’t tell. “Ah, I
see.”
Malcolm noticed the distance in her tone. “Have I bored
you? Medicine turns me into a tiresome talker.”
“Oh, no, no.” she said quickly. “I was…”
“Yes?” He said. She hesitated. Then, he reached for the
whiskey. “Would, by any chance, a glass of whiskey provide
you with much needed encouragement?” he smiled and lifted
the glasses in a playful manner.
“Well, Malcolm.” The sound of her calling out his name
paralysed him.. “You did call me brave earlier.”
“Indeed, I did. And mad enough to accept this,” he added
handing her the glass. She smiled and accepted.
“Very well, then.”
Malcolm poured himself a glass, observing the way she
held her how her lips touched the tip, the way she swal
lowed. She was deep in thought.
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“What is on your mind, Amelia?” he asked.

“Listening to you talk about your passions awakened the
past.” she said.
“So you as well desired to become a doctor once you
read Edward Jenner’s book?” He teased and was happy to
see her smile chasing away the shadows forming in her
eyes.
“Oh, I wish! My life would have been easier.” She took
another sip. Malcolm wondered whether she truly did need
the courage to speak, after all. “Nobody knows.” She
whispered.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I know,” she murmured. “This frightens me a little.” She
took yet another sip. “I exaggerated. My life was not hard. I
was the daughter of a baron, and he laboured endlessly to
ensure the security of my future.”
“He was successfull, then,” Malcolm said.
Amelia nodded, a soft smile spreading across her lips. She
was lost in her bittersweet memories, “I was his light in the
darkness, his only hope. I was still a child when my mother
passed. We were nearly destitute with no power or influence.
I failed to make my debut that my first Season, we had no
means. Yet, my father never ceased to fight for me. He
wanted to ensure I lived a better life than he.”
The sadness in her words did not erase the smile on her
face. “Seeing me married to a wealthy, honourable gentleman
would save us from utter ruin. So I catered to my education, I
abided by all the rules. I needed to learn how to be a proper
lady for him. My prospects were low but I never complain
I carried that burdened within me in silence. All the while
moulding myself into perfection.”
“And then, I met Arthur.” Her words breathed joy into
her essence. Malcolm felt jealous. “He was my saviour. He
accepted my father’s suggestion and I secured Arthur’s
proposal. He treated me with such kindness, provided for me

so tenderly. I shall always be grateful.”
It was Malcolm’s turn to sip his whiskey, hoping it would
chase away the foolish jealousy flooding his thoughts. “What
of your father?”
“A few weeks after my wedding, he passed.”
“Oh…I am so sorry, Amelia.”
She waved her hand and smile. “Don’t be. He died a happy
man he is at peace.” She gazed up at the stars above them.
“Oftentimes, I wonder if Arthur met my father in heaven.”
Malcolm took her hand tenderly. She lightly squeezed it.
“He has.”
She looked at him, smiling, even as tears shimmered in
her eyes. She seemed as taken aback by them as he was. She
blinked, lowering her head. Malcolm saw a tear running down
her cheek. “Forgive me,” she said, “I never expected to cry.”
“Shall I give you some privacy?”
“No,” she assured him. “These are happy tears.”
“It wrenches my heart, seeing you cry,” Malcolm said
honestly.
Amelia looked surprised. “My, for a man of science, you
are certainly romantic.” She said softly.
“I am a man of many talents, Amelia.” He smiled lightly,
“You’ll see.”
“I never doubted you,” she said with a giggle. In truth, he
didn’t mean to sound romantic yet he was pleased she felt
this way.
“I should take my leave now,” she said suddenly, sighing
lightly.
“I too. Although I would hate to see you leave.”
“You needn’t worry. It won’t be hard to see me again.”
Their laughter merged with one another’s; the sounds of
happiness. As the laughter faded away, he thought she was
right. She should go to bed. And she would lay there, nothing
88 LISA CAMPELL
but a nightgown covering her body. And she would be all

alone. Unless… he brushed that fantasy away.
Picturing her almost naked on her bed was excruciating.
Amelia was sad to leave him. But she knew it would only
grow harder for them to part if they shared yet another kiss.
“Goodnight, Malcolm,” she murmured.
“Sweetest of dreams, Amelia.”
He didn’t move. He only watched her as she walked away
from him, burning to call to her. The moment she was gone,
he sighed heavily achingly. He, then, looked at the stars and
thought of his brother.
He wondered if Amelia would be as happy with him as
she was with Arthur.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Amelia’s suggestions regarding the ball had been pointless.

The candles had been carved into lilies and the centrepieces
adorned both ends of the table. She shook her head, angered
at herself that it bothered her. She knew all this had been an
excuse for Leonora, however, seeing how she ignored and
disregarded her pained her.
She turned her back at the table and approached the
doors leading out to the gardens. A light breeze caressed the
nape of her neck and Amelia hoped it would calm her nerves.
The Duke would arrive momentarily.
Amelia stood by herself, holding a glass of champagne.
She observed the large ballroom flood with guests. Soon, she
would not be able to see past the crowded room. She was
searching for the Duke only to ensure she’d successfully avoid
him. Then, she looked for Malcolm.
She saw Leonora instead. She welcomed the guests,
gracing them with a smile reserved only for strangers and
acquaintances. Amelia spotted a few other familiar faces,
ones who had attended both her wedding and Arthur’s
90 LISA CAMPELL
funeral, faces that now looked at her with renewed interest. It

was likely Leonora had exposed her to their invested glances.
Amelia searched for Malcolm still.
Perhaps he has not yet arrived.
She hoped champagne would ease her agitation. Ever
since that night on the terrace, they had exchanged notes,
letters, and poems of love. They would meet in secret by the
gazebo. He came to her whenever he was free to do so. Every
morning they had breakfast together, and every evening, they
had dinner. Even though they couldn’t enjoy the latter
without additional company, he would not take his eyes
o her.
Amelia was falling in love.
It was a feeling so all encompassing, it would engulf her
breathe her in. Her happiness was unbiddable, her yearning
growing and ungovernable. She hadn’t dared kiss him again
for fear of repercussions.
A fear she no longer felt when alone with him. She trusted
him.
And then, he appeared.
His coat was long, gloriously shaping his broad shoulders.
The whiteness of his shirt outshined the remainder of colours
filling the room. From a distance, she could see his eyes
browsing the room; searching for her. Her heart fluttered and
she swiftly coursed through the room to meet him.
She faltered when Leonora approached him. She took
Malcolm firmly by the arm, fanning her way through the
crowd. He was reluctant to go with her, his eyes still
searching for Amelia. But to no avail, he knew he couldn’t
escape his sister’s torment.
Amelia wouldn’t let go that easily. She kept her eyes fixed
on his broad back, slightly lifting the gown with her hands,
easing her way through the crowd. She reached them before
Leonora could thrust Malcolm away.
“My Lord,” she said. He turned to face her, his face

shining with joy at the sound of her voice.
“Lady Wilton,” he greeted, sounding a little breathy. “I
wondered about you.”
“Here I am,” she told him with a smile. Leonora stood
sti y next to him, she ignored her.
“I had hoped to share a dance with you.”
“Malcolm,” Leonora interrupted. “We should personally
welcome the Duke of Derby and Miss Beatrice.” She looked
over at Amelia. “I would be happy if you were to come, as
well.”
Amelia resisted the urge to vehemently shake her head.
She’d loathe to meet the man she’d so ardently tried to avoid.
“As a matter of fact,” she said shifting her eyes to Malcolm. “A
dance would be lovely. Thank you.”
Malcolm’s face radiated joy. He extended his arm and she
placed hers on top. A warm sensation travelled through her
the moment their fingers intertwined.
As they wandered o , the first musical notes erupted into
the room. Pairs kept sprouting from all sides, flooding the
dancefloor. The moment Malcolm placed his arms around
her, the world dissipated to nothingness. Nobody but them
existed, their souls dancing alone in a vacant ballroom. As the
swayed to the music, their hearts melted into each other
becoming one.
“Amelia,” he whispered to her ear, “You are beautiful”.
His breath sent shivers down her spine. “Thank you,
Malcolm.” She said with a smile. “Albeit my gown doesn’t
match the theme.”
“And, yet, you radiate more light and beauty than all the
colours in the world.”
Amelia giggled as she fixed her eyes on him. “You are a
handsome man, Malcolm. The air surrounding you is…
di erent.”
92 LISA CAMPELL
“How fortunate am I to be dancing with such a lady.” He

said and then leaned to her ear, “I can assure you every
gentleman in this room is envious of me.”
She shivered. “And I can assure you every lady in this
room is envious of me, too.”
Malcolm smiled, raising his eyebrow. “You mean to say
you are fortunate too?”
“I mean to say there is not another soul in this room I
would rather share this evening with.”
Amelia lowered her face, realising the sincerity of her
words the exposure of her emotions. In that very magical
moment, she knew the truth. She knew her heart belonged
to him.
Love. She didn’t know what it meant to love. Or be loved.
To her, love was a beautiful story she’d read in one of her
books or the verse of a lovelorn poet. With Malcolm in her
life, she now had the chance to experience it. To experience
life itself.
Amelia wanted to rest her head on his chest, to heed the
soothing beating of his heart. They exchanged no more words
for they failed to describe the emotions nestling inside of
them. All that mattered now was this dance.
As the dance drew to an end, Amelia knew she needed to
step away. For the sake of appearances, they couldn’t share
more than two dances. It would be scandalous to cross that
line.
“Let us meet,” she whispered to him as they made their
way back from the dancefloor. “In the gardens.”
Malcolm looked at her with mischief glowing in his eyes.
“What a wonderful ”
“Malcolm.”
Amelia sti ened at Leonora’s voice. When she faced her,
she noticed she wasn’t alone. Miss Beatrice stood next to her,
smiling at Malcolm flirtatiously. Naturally, she thought.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you were Miss Beatrice’s first

dance?” Leonora asked not caring for a response. She looked
rather pleased with herself, looking at Malcolm and Beatrice.
Amelia almost felt like an outcast.
“It would be my honour, My Lord,” Beatrice said instantly,
curtsying with one hand as she held out the other.
Malcolm looked uncomfortable, but Amelia knew he had
to accept. She watched them walk to the dancefloor and was
angered at the vexing look of triumph spread across Leono
ra’s face.
Leonora’s behaviour bothered her. But could she expect?
Malcolm needed to marry and Amelia , apparently, wasn’t an
advantageous match in the eyes of her sister in law. Then
again, she wanted to believe her actions reflected her good
intentions.
Amelia thought of speaking to her when The Duke of
Derby approached her, pushing her heart over the edge.
He was a handsome man, indeed. Such a shame his char
acter wasn’t a match to this looks.
His brazen smile irked her.. “My Lady,” he greeted and
bowed. “You look marvellous. Much like the stars above us.”
He gestured around him, probably pointing at the marvel
lous stars above them.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a polite curtsy.
“You look very elegant this evening.”
“Oho!” He pulled on the lapels of his waistcoat, inflating
like a peacock. “I am well aware,” he replied. How arrogant,
she thought. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with
me, my Lady?” he added.
Amelia, to her discontent, accepted.
Standing in such close proximity to the Duke was nothing
alike to how she felt in Malcolm’s arms. Amelia was deeply
uncomfortable. Her eyes travelled across the room in search
of him, hoping to see a similar look on his face.
94 LISA CAMPELL
“My Lady.” The Duke whispered to her surprise.

“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Ever since I saw you last, you have haunted my thoughts.
You’ve invaded my mind I dare not live a day without
thinking about you.”
“You flatter me, Your Grace.”
“Oftentimes, I think of you wandering the halls of my
manor”, he mused.
Amelia was shocked, pausing momentarily. He stared
down at her with a rather lazy smile, his eyes looking heavy.
“Pardon me?” She gasped.
“Would you be inclined to accept an invitation to my
manor, My Lady? I shall love to give you a tour of the
grounds” he whispered. “Maybe show you their secrets”, he
added with striking confidence.
“Are you planning on throwing a ball, Your Grace?” she
said in a seemingly casual manner, struggling to evade the
conversation.
“Do you not entertain the idea?”
“Surely you are aware of the nature of your request. It is
rather… odd. Improper.”
He hu ed a laugh and as he did Amelia smelled alcohol in
his breath her stomach turned. No wonder he’d been so
straightforward, and his eyes so lidded. He was inebriated.
“I am,” he said with a nod. “I surely am. Then, my Lady,
you leave me no choice but to ask your hand in marriage.”
Amelia’s heart thudded. No, she thought..
“I must convince you to marry me. Can you not under
stand? A beauty such as you, my love, should be by my side.
So that I may enjoy you the way a man enjoys his wife.”
My love? I beg your pardon? His rudeness and audacity
disarmed her.
He squinted down at her. “My Lady? Have I rendered you
speechless?”
“Yes,” she said honestly. “I can think of no response.”

Other than a very firm no.
“In that case then...” he said calmly.
Amelia looked up at him, wondering. Their dance lulled,
the rhythm of their bodies winded down. A moment later, she
realised his face grew closer to hers. He wanted to kiss her.
Amelia pulled away. The Duke was taken aback by her
unexpected reaction, slightly stumbling before composing
himself. “My Lady?”
“I feel rather unwell,” she claimed battling against the
urge to leave. “Shall we rest, Your Grace?”
He looked at her, bemused. Disappointed. Amelia knew
they needed to move for the stillness of their bodies in the
middle of the dancefloor would raise questions she was not
willing to answer.
“Certainly.” he said finally, he too realising they were being
watched. “Come, let’s treat ourselves to a refreshment.”
He was standing much closer to her than she liked, his
arms lightly stroking her back. Amelia’s discomfort was su o
cating her but she knew she needed to suppress the senti
ment. She was waiting for the right moment to escape.
A short while later, they reached the refreshments table.
He flashed her a bright smile and a wink, as he said, “Please,
My Lady. Wait here.”
Amelia didn’t smile back. She couldn’t. When he left, she
grasped her chance to escape.
Unfortunately, as she was walking away, horror descended
upon her for he heard the Duke call to her. She turned to face
him he’d been holding two glasses of champagne and, to her
displeasure, moving at an alarmingly fast pace to reach her.
Once more, she suppressed her discomfort.
To no avail though as the Duke, inebriated as he was,
clumsily poured champagne all over her gown..
Amelia let out a strangled cry as the drink seeped through
96 LISA CAMPELL
her dress. Her bosom was wet, her embarrassment burning.

Heads turned; silence spread across the room. When she
looked up, the Duke’s face was oozing with bemusement.
How dare he! “Have you gone mad?” she gasped, furious.
“My Lady, I ”
Amelia raised her hand up in the air, gesturing him to
silence. “Not another word.” She snapped. “I can bear your
impertinence and the foulness of your breath no longer. I
would rather die a widow than marry you.”
The Duke was shocked to his core. Nobody, let alone a
woman, had ever spoken to him the way Amelia did. He
lowered his eyes and proceeded to tuck his cu s when he said
“Please, allow me ”
Amelia stepped back, nearly stumbling upon someone.
Her face had been burning with fury and knew all eyes were
on her. But she did not care.
In an attempt to end this ordeal, she turn her back on him
and walked away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Malcolm had witnessed everything and all he wished was to

rush to her side. Even as he was dancing with Miss Beatrice,
his eyes never left Amelia.
“My Lord.” Beatrice’s voice was sharp, shaking him back
to the present. Still, he ignored her. He steered them closer
to the scene, listening to Amelia’s voice angrily and bravely
telling the Duke she would never marry him. He shuddered.
A scandal had just been caused.
“My Lord, are you listening to me?” Beatrice asked. But
her voice felt distant. When Malcolm glanced at her, he saw
that she too was taken by the scene between Amelia and her
brother. And she was not pleased.
“I have,” he said. Malcolm knew he had to avert her atten
tion from the scene. It wasn’t until they had distanced them
selves that she did look away.
“Then, what are your thoughts?” She was quick to slip
back into the conversation, her brows furrowed this time. She
looked vexed. At him, hopefully.
He struggled to recall their conversation her mono
logue, more like. He recalled her talking about her her gown
98 LISA CAMPELL
maybe. S he looked down at her green French dress and

remembered. “Perfectly matching the theme”, he said. “My
sister would be pleased.”
“I do not care if she would be pleased. I care if you
would.”
He prayed this dance would end. In the meantime, he had
to lie. “I do fancy the colour green,” he said noncommittally.
Whether his response satisfied her or not, Malcolm didn’t
know. All he knew was Amelia was frantically walking
towards the gardens. He hoped she’d find shelter in their
gazebo. He also hoped this dance would end.
“I am pleased to hear that,” Beatrice said. She sounded
happy enough. “You should know, My Lord, when I tailored
this gown I had you in mind. Whether you’d appreciate
it.”
“Your interest flatters me.” he responded distractedly.
“Interest is too weak a word, My Lord.” She looked up at
him. “My Lord?”
Malcolm wrenched his gaze away o the doors and down
at Beatrice. She looked displeased by his absent mindedness.
“Oh, my.”
She grew a little limp in his arms. Instinctively, Malcolm
tighten his hold of her, watching her eyes flutter. “Miss Beat
rice? Are you unwell?”
“I believe…it might be a little too hot in here,” she said,
her voice barely a whisper. “A little fresh air should help.”
“There is a balcony nearby.” said Malcolm knowing this
was his way to Amelia. He would escort Beatrice to that
balcony and then rush to Amelia’s side.
“Yes, My Lord.”
Ensuring she was able to walk, Malcolm led Miss Beatrice
onto the balcony. It was a cold evening.
He uttered no words when he turned to leave. It was quite
rude of him but he needed to find Amelia. Before he had the
chance to escpae she said, “Will you stay a little longer, My

Lord?”
Malcolm sighed. He faced her again.
She pouted. “A medical professor, are you, My Lord? I am
certain no harm would come to me with you by my side.”
“I doubt you’d ever be in harm’s way.”
“I couldn’t know,” she said. “I feel lightheaded still.” She
added theatrically.
He sighed again, silently this time. Masking his unwilling
ness, he walked towards her bent on ignoring the triumphant
grin on her face.
“I am troubled, My Lord.” she said. “It would appear my
brother has caused a scene.”
Malcolm looked at her, surprised. “This wasn’t the first
time, was it?”
“He is quite taken with the whiskey,” she sighed. “Prior to
our arrival, he assured me of his well being. Unfortunately, I
believed him. Nevertheless, it was very rude of Lady Wilton
to humiliate him before all these people.”
“I believe Lady Wilton’s patience was tested significantly.”
“My brother is a kind man. He does have his vices but ”
She paused, her eyes darting back and forth as if she was
searching for the right words. She faced him, gazing up into
his eyes, begging him to believe her words. “You believe he
deserved such behaviour?”
Amelia is not irrational. If she behaved this way, it means he
deserved it. “I couldn’t tell you as I wasn’t present,” he said.
She smiled, her eyes growing tender. “Oh, so sweet of you,
My Lord. I am so pleased to be here with you.”
Malcolm grew restless. He shouldn’t be here. He should
be by Amelia’s side. Remembering that, he straightened. “You
should be resting, Miss Beatrice” he said. “I shall have a
servant escort you to a room you need to lie down. Now, if
you would excuse me.”
100 LISA CAMPELL
She moved quickly. The moment he turned, she was right

there before him again. Except this time, she was standing on
her toes slightly leaning over towards him, in hopes of
touching his lips with hers. She cradled the back of his neck
with her hand, gently pulling him forcing him to kiss her.
Malcolm barely had the chance to overcome the shock
when the balcony doors opened, and Leonora appeared.
Her astonished face startled Malcolm back to himself. He
resisted the urge to push Beatrice away so he merely stepped
back. It dawned on him they had just been caught in a
compromising moment. His chest tightened.
“Leonora, there has been a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Leonora snapped as she abruptly closed the
doors behind her. She ventured closer, her eyes shifting from
Beatrice to Malcolm then back. “A mistake?” she repeated
coldly.
“Miss Leonora ”
Leonora cut Beatrice o . “Miss Beatrice, I believe you
should take your leave now. The Duke is distressed and he
requires your assistance.”
“Ah, yes.” Beatrice said and hurried to the doors. Her
absence filled the space with deafening silence.
“I know you believe me,” Malcolm said. “You know very
well I have no hankering for Miss Beatrice.”
“Do you have a hankering for some other lady then?”
Leonora asked.
Malcolm was confused by the question. “Does that
matter? I simply want you to know I feel nothing for Miss
Beatrice.”
“You are a man,” she said dismissively. Her voice was
alarmingly calm. She wandered over to the railing. “And Miss
Beatrice is a beauty. You two were alone, under the stars. A
rather romantic setting. Surely, you understand why I couldn’t
possibly believe you.”
Malcolm flinched in apparent distress “Believe what you

will, Leonora. I did not kiss her. She kissed me.”
“Hm.”
The dullness in her response irritated him even further
and marched toward the balcony doors. “I know you, Leono
ra,” he said prior to leaving. “I hope to God you’ll choose to
stay away from your usual fiendish ideas. You have no right
meddling with my and Lady Wilton’s life. And that includes
forcing us to dance with that despicably aggravating family. I
will not repeat myself.”
Leonora looked at him, her expression serene. Her tran
quillity unnerved him. “All I do, Malcolm,” she said, her voice
steady. “I do for you.”
“You do this for me then; stay away.”
Having said that, he left hoping to find Amelia.
Amelia has been taking turns of the garden, trying to calm

herself before she decided to walk back into the ball room.
The air was cold, her gown wet. She was shivering, her teeth
chattering.
On her way back to the ballroom, she stopped by the
gazebo. She’d express her desire to meet him. He wondered if
he were still preoccupied with Miss Beatrice. A wave of jeal
ousy coursed through her.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
Amelia, startled, turned around. Leonora stood by the
gazebo, her face hidden in the shadows. Amelia’s heart
thumped.
“I merely taking in some fresh air,” Amelia lied. “And
delaying my return to the ball.”
“Yes, that was quite a scene.” Leonora stepped forward
revealing the slight smirk on her face. “I could never imagine
102 LISA CAMPELL
you harbouring such rage inside of you. In truth, I could

never imagine you being so… vocal.”
Amelia observed Leonora slowly pacing towards the
bench sensing she wished to speak, and not listen. “My
marriage to Arthur never caused me any kind of distress”,
Amelia replied.
“It would appear you are much happier now he is dead.”
Amelia’s heart was about to explode. She refused to look
at her. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Leonora?”
“Oh, no.” Leonora waved dismissively assuming her
usual tone of disregard. “I am but slightly frazzled. I am still
quite shaken by an incident involving my brother.”
“Your brother?” Amelia said facing her.
Leonora sighed, shaking her head. Amelia frowned,
concerned. “There I was heading towards the balcony when I
stumbled upon my brother kissing Miss Beatrice.”
The world darkened. Amelia stared at Leonora, unmoved.
She was in disbelief. “Surely, you jest,” she laughed dryly. “Or
perhaps it was but a mere trick of the eye.”
“I think not,” Leonora said simply. “They were lost in
such a passionate embrace I fear to wonder what would
have happened had I not interrupted their special moment. I
am quite surprised by my brother’s show of emotion.”
Amelia could scarcely breathe. She lowered her eyes to
the ground tears welling up.
“Well,” Leonora sighed as she bestirred herself. “I am
hardly surprised he has been enraptured by Miss Beatrice’s
charms and beauty. Ah, their flourishing love fills me with
joy.” she said clearly pleased with herself. “I shall be heading
back to the ball now”, she added and left.
Amelia’s world crumbled to darkness. Her mind was
flooded by thoughts of Malcolm kissing Miss Beatrice,
kissing her he’d kiss her only a few nights ago. Her limbs were
numb paralysed.
“Amelia!”
She recognised his voice immediately but didn’t look up.
“I have been searching all over for you,” Malcolm said breath
lessly his voice beautiful, worried. “I feared you’d returned
to the ball.”
She couldn’t speak.
His scent invaded her lungs as he leaned to the side his
hands rested on her shoulders. “Are you all right?” he looked
deeply into her eyes.
Amelia mustered the strength to look at him. He was
surprised to see her cry. What a beautiful, striking man, she
thought. Her heart ached.
“Amelia?”
All of a sudden, she stood up her legs still numb. “Is it
true?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Is what true?” His confusion was palpable. He eached out
to her but she pulled away.
“Did you kiss her?” Amelia stared into his eyes trying to
find the truth in them, trying to find a beacon out of the
darkness.
The moment he lowered his gaze, she knew. He looked
back at her, shaking his head. “It is not ”
But Amelia had no intention to stand before him and
watch him lie to her. Instead, she dashed to the manor, and
run to the safety of her bed. A lump formed in her throat, the
sadness was overwhelming.
Yet she knew, her broken heart would not be mended by
tears.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Amelia sunk into her bed wishing she could dissolve into it.
She looked out the window and onto the clouds envying their
freedom. The maid had been moving about the room silently
lighting a fire for her, folding her morning dress. Amelia
would never be able to leave this room.
She could tell the maid she was ill, that she would prefer
to be alone until she recovered. Or, maybe she shouldn’t have
to excuse herself, she should be free to act as she pleased.
Amelia was aware she wouldn’t be able to hide from him
forever. She would have to face him.
A war brewed inside of her. She desired to see him
desperately. But she also wanted nothing more than to
distance herself from him.
“My Lady?”
Amelia looked at the maid poor girl, she seemed
nervous. Amelia smiled hoping it would appease her. “Have I
taken up too much of your time?” She asked. “Forgive me”.
The maid smiled hesitantly while Amelia walked to the
dressing table and looked herself in the mirror. She sat down
and let the girl comb through her hair.
For the next hour, Amelia and the maid sat in silence,
while she helped her prepare herself for the day, Amelia
listened to the crackle of the fire, the maid’s soft breathing
and tried to compose herself. Three days had passed since
that horrible evening and Amelia dreaded seeing Malcolm
again.
All Amelia could do was keep herself from crying. And
even now, she felt incapable of forgetting the pain and the
hurt. The shame.
She wasn’t ready to face Malcolm yet, however, she
refused to cower in the family’s presence. So she requested
her breakfast be brought up to Frederica’s bedchamber.
As Amelia entered her room, Frederica was awake. Her
face beamed, “Amelia! Finally!” she said relieved.
“Were you expecting me?”
“You are but three days late, my dear.”
“Had I known you wished to see me, I would have come,”
Amelia said as she sat by a chair next to her bed.
“I didn’t want to bother you, my dear.”
Amelia’s heart warmed. Seeing Frederica’s face had chased
some of her darkness away. She had come to feel as a mother
to her and all she desired at the moment was to seek a moth
er’s comfort.
Frederica glanced at her as if reading her mind.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, swinging the tray of
food resting on her lap as she leaned towards Amelia. “You
seem distressed. And…have you been crying?”
Amelia couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. She couldn’t
admit she’d come to love her son, and that maybe he loved
her too. She couldn’t tell her he’d kissed another woman, and
how that shattered her dreams and heart.
She felt a lump form in her throat, tears welling up in her
eyes. She could barely keep herself composed. “I have,” she
admitted, she could disclose that much.
106 LISA CAMPELL
“Oh, dear.” Frederica took Amelia’s hand in hers, stroking

it with a ection. “Can I help?”
“I don’t believe so.” She replied. In truth, she couldn’t
possibly help her. Who could?
“Does it involve the incident at the ball?” Frederica
asked.
Amelia went still. “You know?”
“Leonora told me. She seemed rather distressed about it
herself.”
Distressed? She’d expect her to be happy. “Why? Did she,
perchance, say?” Amelia asked.
“Well, I didn’t ask. It was certainly quite scandalous of
you to yell at the Duke. However, I know in my heart he
probably deserved it.”
Ah, this concerns the Duke then. Amelia nodded. “He did.
And I have no regrets he’s a rude, impertinent man. I fear
the whispering voices, though. The gossip.”
“No need to stress yourself,” Frederica said smilingly,
patting Amelia’s hand. “If the Duke truly is as bad as you
believe him to be, then all these rumours will turn out to be
in your benefit.”
Amelia certainly hoped so.
“Have you heard about Malcolm’s own little scandal?”
Frederica asked suddenly. “I could hardly believe it to be
true.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. A maid
walked in bearing Amelia’s breakfast. She used the distraction
as a way to think of something to say.
“What happened?” she asked., feigning ignorance.
“It would appear he kissed someone at the ball, out on the
balcony.” Amelia kept her eyes peered at the food for fear of
Frederica noticing the glimmer in her eyes. No, she shouldn’t
cry. She should be angry.
“It sounds very unlike him. He has never been interested
in courting or marriage. I am quite surprised at his romantic

tryst.”
Frederica fell quiet for a moment. Amelia refused to look
at her for fear she’d noticed that she’d been on the verge of
tears.
“I recall the time whenMalcolm’s father was courting me.
He’d been quite romantic towards me, though a rather sti
and astute man towards others. I reckon my son has taken
after him in more ways than one.”
“Perhaps so.” When wi I learn? Amelia’s voice trembled as
she spoke.
Thankfully, she was saved by a knock on the door. As
Frederica bade them to enter, Amelia could sense her eyes on
her studying her.
“Amelia,” a voice sounded from behind. Leonora. “Good. I
have been looking for you.”
“Good morrow, my lovely daughter,” Frederica called. Her
voice sounded happy and mirthful in contrast to Leonora’s
cold eyes.
Leonora barely looked at Frederica. “Yes, Mother,” she
said indi erently as her eyes coursed to Amelia. “Amelia,
would you accompany me to the library? I need to speak with
you.”
Amelia knew she couldn’t avoid her forever. Suppressing
her sigh, she nodded.
“If you would excuse me,” she said to Frederica, sounding
calmer than she felt.
Frederica smiled softly at her with a knowing look in her
eye. Amelia knew she’d become aware of her discontent
alas, she probably saw through her all the way to her heart.
“Amelia. I haven’t seen you since the ball,” Leonora said.
“Indeed, you have not.” Amelia replied flatly.
Leonora glared at her. Amelia’s cryptic response drew her
by surprise. “Are you ill?”
108 LISA CAMPELL
“No, Leonora.”
“Bee in your bonnet?”
“No”, she said plainly. Amelia was forced to lie for
Leonora knew more than she let on. She had to remain strong
before her eyes. She couldn’t reveal she consisted of an ocean
of cracked pieces fragments of her soul.
“Very well, then. I wished to tell you Malcolm should
propose to Miss Beatrice. I’m planning on it.”
The floor nearly gave way beneath her. Amelia vanished
into the ache su ocating her heart fighting against her own
self, keeping her pieces together. Leonora must not see her
fall. She could picture the pleasure in Leonora’s eyes how
she’d revel in her demise. Amelia needed to remain calm for
fear she’d run to the one person she should be avoiding:
Malcolm.
So many questions formed in her head. Why are you te ing
me this? Why are you doing this to him? Does he wish to be married?
Did he choose Beatrice?
But she only asked one. “Why do you tell me this?”
“Because once they’re married, you’d have to leave here. It
should happen within a matter of few months.” Amelia was
silent. No words could ever express her feelings. She was
barely aware of her own body walking down the stairs and
towards the library.
“Amelia, remind me, dear I have told you all about the
ball, haven’t I?” Leonora kept twisting her knife in Amelia’s
heart. “Ah, what a passionate kiss that was. I doubt Malcolm
would be opposed to proposing. Yet, he does tend to feel
easily bored and once his interest is lost he hops onto the
next best thing.”
She could almost feel the knife in her chest.
What a cruel, horrible woman, Amelia thought. She
certainly needed no reminding yet she chose to torment her
yet again. She had the same cunning look in her eyes as that
night at the ball. Why did she hate Amelia so much?
And then Malcolm. He never denied the kiss. He never
sought after her either.
“Much luck to you, Leonora,” Amelia said when she felt
calm enough. “Lord Wilton certainly is a stubborn man.”
“I’m sure you are well aware.”
“But,” Amelia went on ignoring her remark. She needed
to think about her future now. “Must I truly return to my
family home?”
“Well, there is one other option.” They were nearing the
library now but Leonora ceased her walking, Amelia
following suit. “You could o er your sincerest apologies to
the Duke and accept his proposal.”
“I will do no such thing,” Amelia said vehemently. Perhaps
she could entertain the possibility of apologising to him but
never accepting his hand in marriage.
Leonora shrugged. “Very well, then. Either way, you can
stay here no longer.”
And with these words, she walked away and into the
library. Amelia’s fingers curled into a fist. No doubt Leonora
would now be planning to bring her evil scheme to life.
Amelia bit her lip, unable to move.
When she finally turned, she saw Malcolm.
He was standing at the other end of the hallway, his
expression tortured. He too had his hands in fists and, even
from the distance, she could see his lips tense. Amelia’s heart
thudded.
He was so close. He was merely but a few steps away
close enough to reach out and touch him, for his scent to
engulf her, to hear his voice. It was in that moment, the
image of him kissing her sprouted in her head. She used that
as fuel for her departure.
110 LISA CAMPELL
Thank goodness he didn’t try to stop her for she wouldn’t

be able to resist his arms.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Watching her walk away from him killed him. His breathing
was haggard, words stuck in his throat. She was angry, sad,
disappointed. The part that pained him so was that she chose
to believe his sister. He chose to lose faith in him.
He tossed the sherry to the back of his throat. He didn’t
quite like it but it reminded him of Amelia. Sweet like a life
time of happiness by her side. And bitter as the fact his life
had been hanging by memories.
A gentle knock on the door. “My Lord.” Malcolm sat up as
his heart pounded. The butler appeared through the door.
“Yes?”
“Miss Leonora would like to know if you’d have dinner
with her.”
Hearing her name brought back that volcanic anger that
dwelled in him the past few days. “I will do no such thing.”
He replied.
“Very well, My Lord.” Said the butler and left.
He’d been avoiding her with a passion. To think, his own
sister would paint him as a rake an unworthy man with no
honour by twisting the truth and shaping it as she wished.
112 LISA CAMPELL
She had solidly placed herself as a wedge between him and

Amelia he hardly believed his own sister would be so evil.
Overthrown by distress, Malcolm started pacing around
the room. He couldn’t bare Amelia avoiding him. Whenever
she saw him, she would walk away. Whenever he raced after
her, she would lock herself in a room.
Her avoidance was a reflection of her pain.
He had to make amends. He needed to show Amelia how
he felt. And last but not least, he needed to handle Leonora.
Perhaps he should speak to her again, he thought, as he
left his study. He could issue another warning. But to no avail,
his sister wouldn’t respect him enough to listen. Every time
he thought of her, he got a bad taste in his mouth not
knowing whether the end of her game was nearing or if she
wished to torture him further.
No, she wants to see me married. She wants me to marry Miss
Beatrice.
Every detail was coming together. If he decided to speak
with her, she’d yet again twist everything in her favour. Her
stubbornness and cold heart would abide by her version of
the story. And she would use it to enforce this union.
Malcolm hated how believable that notion was. He hated
it was very likely to happen. He hated he could no longer
trust his sister.
Malcolm entered the dining room only to find it empty.
The butler informed him she’d chosen to eat her supper with
his mother. O he walked.
He headed towards his mother’s bedchamber who was
now recovered from her illness. Malcolm suspected she’d
taken advantage of the doctor’s orders and stayed in bed a
while longer. She was the kind of human that would take
pleasure in the smallest things. A rare trait, in truth.
The door was ajar when he arrived. He was about to push
it when a scathing voice sounded from inside.
“I will do no such thing!” said Leonora.

“You must,” replied his mother calmly. “You must, my
dear, or else you will push him away. Don’t push him away.
You cannot possibly want that.”
“You are clearly fully oblivious to my wants if you believe
I care whether I push him away or not.” Leonora’s voice
resounded furious, bitter. Malcolm drew closer, not caring if
he were caught.
“I raised him,” Frederica said. “I know him. And I know
you mean well but ”
“You know nothing!” she shrieked.
Anger surged within him. The way she talked to their
mother was preposterous.They kept talking, completely
unaware he was standing on the other side, listening.
Malcolm was confused, shocked. He had invaded their
privacy yet he did not regret it. He chose to cling to the
details that would probably prove useful in the near future.
He held those details close to him like hope.
Once he calmed himself, it was time for him to leave. He
didn’t want to get caught.
I wi hold on to that bit of knowledge for now. It wi certainly
come in handy when the time is right.
. He knew where he was headed. He didn’t stop himself.
Marching against the blasted rules, he chose to ignore all that
he shouldn’t do.
Malcolm kept walking and did not stop until he had
reached Amelia’s bedchamber.
He knew she was in there. He had been shamelessly
inquiring the maids of her whereabouts since she’d declined
to speak with him. He knew that she would spend her night
the way she had spent the last few eating by her window.
Malcolm held his breath. He knocked. “Enter”, he heard
her say.
He didn’t hesitate to.
114 LISA CAMPELL
She was taking her supper by the window. He used her

distraction as a means to come further into the room and
close the door behind him.
When she noticed him, she gasped, bestirring herself
frantically. “Malcolm! What are you how did you why have
you ”
Malcolm stepped forward as she drowned in silence. “I
had to see you.”
“You must leave.”
“No.” He shook his head steadily but the word sounded
like a desperate plea. When she approached him, he did not
move. “I cannot leave. I overheard Leonora and Mother
speaking about an important matter and you must know
that ”
“No!” She shook her head. She was so beautiful, so free.
He realised this had been the first time he’d seen her hair
down cascading gracefully onto her shoulders. Her eyes
glinted in the candlelight, glowing darkened hints of green
shooting through her angry gaze.
“I will hear none of this,” she insisted. “I want you to
leave. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Amelia, can you, please, hear what I have to say?” He
knew how sad he sounded, how desperate. He didn’t care.
“You cannot possibly believe anything Leonora has said!”
“Why not?” she demanded. When she realised how close
they were, she took a step back folding her arms. “Why
shouldn’t I? After all, I have only known you less than a
month. Leonora she’s been here ever since I married
Arthur. Apart from Lady Wilton, she is the only family
member I can trust.”
“You cannot mean that.” He said to her and himself. She
couldn’t possibly mean that. “You know you can trust me,
Amelia.”
“Do I? How? You are naught but a rake, cavorting with
more than one lady at a time. You saw through my vulnerabil

ity, and you took advantage of it. But then, you saw through
Miss Beatrice’s flirtatious behaviour and you took advantage
of it, as well.”
“I took advantage of no one!” he exclaim, his voiced trem
bled, tinted with anger and despair. “The moments I shared
with you have been the most magical, most beautiful
moments I have ever had in my life. Miss Beatrice means
absolutely nothing. She is no one to me. No one. You,
Amelia. You are the one I love, Amelia. You. Ever since I laid
my eyes on you and your caterpillar. You are the one I dream
about marrying one day and to think that you ”
“You love me?” Amelia’s voiced sounded sharp yet her
eyes softened. She fell silent for a while. “If you truly love me,
why would you do such a thing?”
“I didn’t!” he pressed. “I was a fool. A fool for believing
she was unwell, a fool for escorting her to the balcony, a fool
for not abandoning her and running to you.”
“And then?” she asked, lifting her chin. She seemed to be
bracing herself. “You kissed her?”
“She kissed me! And when she did, Leonora walked in. My
sister knows she was the one to kiss me..”
“Why would she lie?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” he threw his hands in the air, clearly
tired of all this, “She wants to see us both married. This way,
she could urge me to marry her while she’d steer you towards
the Duke. She is quite crafty.”
Amelia remained still, her arms crossed, her eyes
narrowed. Her rigidity destroyed him he wanted to shake
her to her senses. “You must believe me, Amelia. I would
never hurt you. How could I? I love you. Please, you must
know that.”
She didn’t respond. And because he was afraid of what she
might say when she did, he kissed her.
116 LISA CAMPELL
This kiss was unlike any other. This was one filled with
desolation, with the need to bring her back to him. He pulled
her to his body, needing to have her there, needing to at least
feel her against his body in case she pulled away.
But she didn’t. She relaxed. Her lips softened. And to his
relief, she kissed him back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Something exploded inside of her, something she had longed

kept tethered. She couldn’t understand the magnitude of it
until now, until she was alone in her bedchamber, while the
man she loved kissed her as if he would die without her. If
nothing else had swayed her feelings until now, this kiss
surely had.
She was powerless against it, giving into it nearly instantly.
She wrapped her arm around his neck as her other hand held
his face while her tongue invaded his lips. Their tongues
entangled, lustful heat sparking between them, the sort of
heat Amelia no longer desired to ignore.
She pulled away, breathless. For a moment, his clouded
eyes filled with worry, but she shook her head. “I believe
you,” she breathed. “I believe every word you’ve said.”
“Thank you.” His voice was just a rasp as he buried his
face into the crook of her neck, crushing her to him. A soft
giggle squeaked out of her.
It dissipated when she remembered what she wanted to
say. “Malcolm, look at me.”
He did look at her, but didn’t let go. He wouldn’t dare to.
118 LISA CAMPELL
She caressed both his cheeks, gazing into his eyes. Surpris
ingly, she didn’t need much courage to say, “I want you to
make love to me.”
Watching his face go numb with surprise had been a plea
sure like no other. “You want…”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I want you to make love to me. And I
want you to be very gentle with me. And when we are done, I
will tell you why.”
His brows creased. She could almost see the workings in
his mind, trying to fathom her words the meaning behind
them. But she wouldn’t disclose her secret until they were
finished. If he were to accept, that is.
“Will you?” she asked.
“Of course.” Air rushed out of him as he kissed her on her
on her cheek. Again, and again. All over her face until he
reached her lips. “I will do anything you ask of me.”
She smiled their lips touching. She clung to him, trying
to persuade herself the quiet longing she’d carried all this
time would be fulfilled. Once upon a time, she would never
admit to herself that she yearned for such emotions, she’d
been so grateful for everything Arthur had given her. For her
to yearn for more, would feel like a betrayal to his trust.
But with Malcolm… everything was possible. Love, she
found, could elevate you to the heavens.
Much like the way his lips on her neck elevated her at that
very moment. He nipped gently on her delicate skin she felt
paralysed in his embrace. He took her in his arms, running his
tongue along the base of her throat all the way up to her ear.
She shuddered and could feel his smile.
Suddenly, Malcolm scooped her into his arms. Amelia
gasped. Gazing into her eyes, he brought her over to the bed
and gently laid her down. Then, he kissed her cheeks, her
forehead, her nose, her lips and then he rose.
Amelia had a feeling about what would come next.
She would see him naked. His eyes were pierced on her
face, she felt the space between her legs melt.
Slowly, he started undressing himself. Hi waistcoat, hist
shirt, his cravat cascaded on the ground revealing the strong
chest underneath. She wanted to touch it, run her fingers
through the curls of black hair nestled on his torso. She
stopped breathing when he proceeded to remove his trousers.
His length, free from its chains, appeared before her. Amelia
panted. And gasped.
She could feel a change happening to her body. It felt
almost like a shiver urging her to open her body to the sensa
tion rather than curling to herself. Could this be longing? Of
course it was. Desire so erotic unlike anything she’d ever
dreamed of. His length was impressive enough to fill her with
both eagerness and trepidation.
“Don’t worry.” He took her hand, bringing her to stand on
her unsteady legs. “I will be gentle.” He said softly.
She nodded. Her mind was utterly blank. She knew not
how to react, what it is she should do. Malcolm, as if reading
her mind, took charge. He started undressing her tenderly
until her dress pooled at her feet.
Amelia felt exposed. Hungry. She was wearing but her
petticoat and his heated gaze travelling down her body drove
her mad with desire.
Malcolm bent and grabbed the hem of her petticoat,
pulling it over her head. The hairs on her skin prickled, her
nipples hardened at the cold air. His eyes devoured the full
ness of her breasts and when he touched them gently, as if
they were delicate she shivered.
All of a sudden, his mouth met his in a frenzy in
hungry despair. He could hold back no longer. There was
naught but blazing heat between their naked bodies. Tender
ness had been replaced with voraciousness, with fire, with
raw yearning. He was about to do to her all that he ever
120 LISA CAMPELL
wished, he would sin for her. Still kissing her, he pushed her
on the bed.
Amelia laid on her back, not breaking the kiss. She held
to him for dear life, and he held on to her as if he would die
without her. When stopped kissing her, a smile spread across
her face, waiting for the comforting feel of his lips on her
neck.
But Malcolm’s intentions had changed. They captured her
nipple instead.
Amelia writhed in pleasure. He didn’t stop. He had placed
one hand on her stomach as she quaked beneath him,
ungovernable pleasure coursing through her body. His other
hand travelled down her stomach, towards the centre of her
being. A place nobody had ever touched. Amelia’s heart was
beating to the way he made her feel.
A finger brushed against her sensitive core and she almost
screamed. It was slick enough for him to slide his fingers
across it, ready enough for him to gently press against its
opening. Amelia was drowning in tempestuous desire, in
emotions still unknown to her emotions and sensations she
could hardly fathom her willingly surrendered herself to. She
was frenziedly gripping the sheets and covering her mouth so
as to mu e the explosive pants working their way up her
throat.
He never ceased twirling his finger, never ceased sucking
on her breasts, he merely tortured her in grandest of ways
until tears were squeezing past her eyelids. She stared at him,
at the ceiling, at the heavens hardly believing such a bliss
existed.
And as she was flying with lust, he stopped. She squeaked
in protest. He grinned in response. She only watched as he
hovered above her, his impressive erection resting on her
thigh. Her eyes were fixated on it.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said tenderly, his voice thick.
She nodded. She knew that. She’d already promised

herself she would never doubt him again.
He rested before her core, hovered in anticipation. And
then he entered her. Amelia’s body arched o the bed. Her
mouth flew open, her eyelids agape. She’d expected pain,
she’d expected… she couldn’t know.
Yet all she felt was his magnificent, majestic fullness
inside of her. Malcolm watched her closely and she captured
his face in her hands, smiling drunkenly at him intoxicated
by the feel of him. Seeing her satisfaction urged him into a
rhythm which would only grow faster and faster.
Magic was real, this beauty was beyond words. beyond
comprehension. The merging of their bodies signalled the
merging of their souls their hearts. The hunger she felt
that thirst it grew, and grew, until she could resist no longer.
She held him close, her body thrusting as waves of
euphoria rushed exploding through her. The room disap
peared, the manor disintegrated, the entire world had
vanished to nothingness they were alone. Yet never lonely.
Never again. He held her passionately as he grunted into the
crook of her neck his sounds darkly elated, wonderfully
hers.
For a few moments there was nothing but silence.
Malcolm was still lying atop her. She could feel his chest
move his heart, his breathing. After a while, he rolled to the
side with a sigh. Amelia instantly snuggled into his side.
“I…” She was at a loss for words. “I never believe it would
be so… mesmerising.”
Malcolm remained silent gently stroking her arm. He
was waiting for her to speak.
“I am a was a virgin,” she said. There was no shame
in her voice. Malcolm had ensured she would never feel as
such, ever again. “Even though I was married to Arthur for
nearly a year, we never made love.”
122 LISA CAMPELL
“Why?” he asked, his question devoid of prejudice or

disbelief.
“Well…Arthur… he never yearned for it. Never with a
woman.”
Malcolm remained silent for a few moments and then
sighed. “I see.”
“He shared his secret with me on our wedding night. It
never bothered or saddened me. I happy.”
“You were?”
“Our union was a convenient match for both. I was saved
by financial ruin and he needed to marry. I have always
admired him for his strength. It must have been so
tormenting not being able to live the life you want. Instead,
he cared for me. We became friends. And we cherished each
other as such.” She turned to face him, “But that day, in the
gardens, when I kissed you. I was bound by fear, fear you’d
find the truth.”
“You shouldn’t feel ashamed, Amelia,” he said, caressing
her nose with his finger. “You were happy. There is naught
more important than happiness. Although, I must say, I
envied him.”
“You did?”
“I feared that you’d loved him so much, you’d never let go
of that love. You spoke so fondly of him, with a shining
sparkle in your eyes. I was afeared I would lost your a ect to
man no longer alive.”
Amelia smiled. “He saved my life. And I will always be
grateful. But love… romantic love… I never harboured such
a ections for him.”
She enjoyed the way his chest rumbled when he chuckled.
“You marriage was a terrible love story, indeed.”
“I needn’t worry about love any more.”
“No, you need not.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “I
will ensure we both acquire the happiness we deserve.” He
said and smiled, bringing her closer to him.“Now, sleep.

Tomorrow is a new day.”
She truly felt so.
Until tomorrow comes… she would enjoy this calming
peace with him, she would sleep into the arms of her love.
Frederica and Leonora were about to speak when Malcolm’s

sudden words resounded in the room.
“I must speak to you.”
He looked at Amelia. She was looking back at him; her
heart beating rapidly. He revelled in her wide eyed anticipa
tion, the way her figure was accentuated in her black dress
and her strawberry blond hair.
“I know of no better way to tell you this,” he said, looking
deeply into her eyes. “And no other woman I would ever wish
to say this to. The mere happiness of looking at you stuns me,
the sound of your voice brings me to tears. The love I
harbour for you greater and grander than any poem in exis
tence. Lady Wilton…” he paused as he smiled at her with love
and mischief, “Will you marry me?”
Amelia beamed with pure happiness. Frederica gasped.
Leonora was silent.
“Malcolm…” Her eyes filled with tears. She nodded her
head slowly at first, then more vigorously. “Yes, yes, nothing
would make me happier!” Malcolm smiled widely.
“You cannot be serious.”
He knew this would happen. He was prepared to fight for
his love, against anybody who would stand in their way.
He looked at his sister, detected the quiet rage burning in
her eyes. “It would have been a rather cruel joke if I weren’t,
wouldn’t it?”
“You cannot marry her. She is your brother’s widow. She
124 LISA CAMPELL
must marry someone else she must leave! This is not the
way.”
“This is not your way.” He snapped at her.
“My Lord…” Amelia wished to speak but Malcolm shook
his head at her. Only he would face his sister.
“I truly hope you can find it in you to be happy for us,
Leonora.” Malcolm eased his voice in hopes she would soften
too. “It would make me most happy if you were at our
wedding.”
Leonora stared at him and then stared at their mother.
“Surely you cannot agree with such an abhorrent decision?”
Again, Malcolm spoke before anyone else could have a say.
“Her disagreement would never alter my decision.”
“I cannot have this, I cannot watch you destroy your life,”
Leonora said fiercely. “You are the Earl of Wilton. This is your
future and, as your sister, I shall prevent this from
happening.”
“Are you?”
She jerked, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Pardon?”
“Are you truly? My sister?”
Malcolm watched her grow pale, her eyes shifting to Fred
erica. It was time for him to reveal what he’d overheard the
other night outside Frederica’s room. “I overheard you and
Mother talking. About me, about my future. And you,
Leonora, were so adamant about my union to Miss Beatrice
because it would secure both our futures.”
“I cannot see the meaning in any of this.” She said in a
rather unconvincing tone.
“Mother told you she was the one who raised me and
knew I would not react well to such behaviours. To which
you responded, by boldly declaring, that even though she was
the one who raised me, you were the one who gave birth
to me.”
Amelia was shocked. Malcolm kept his eyes peered at

Leonora. She was sitting there, aghast, lost for words.
Frederica’s tone of calmness eased through the tension.
“Your mother was merely eighteen when she came with child.
The father had been the son of a baron. A scandal in the
making. It was I who suggested I should raise you as my own,
protecting your mother from unthinkable ruin. Forgive me.”
Frederica sighed. Her tranquil demeanour was admirable.
Leonora was glaring at the table. “I believed we could move
on. After all, since I raised you as my own, with Leonora’s
reputation secured, I believed she would marry still. Create a
life of her own but…”
“She loved him still,” Amelia whispered. She looked at
Leonora and something akin to pity crossed her eyes.
“She did,” Frederica said sadly. “Years passed and Leono
ra’s hopes were kept alive by a fire within her urging her to
believe he would be back. Later, it became known he’d
married another woman. By that time, she was well past her
youthful age.”
“Mother, enough!” Leonora hissed.
Malcolm looked at her in understanding, under the light
of forgiveness. She’d given him a life a grand life and he
would always be grateful.
He wished she would speak. Instead, she stared at the
table stubbornly. Unable to overcome the fact her secret had
been exposed. He was awaiting an apology, words of regret.
Silence.
“Leonora?” he said softly. “Is there something you wish to
say?”
“Do not attempt to treat me like a child, Malcolm.” Her
words were sharp, blazing with a fury he could see in her eyes.
She bestirred herself, planting one palm on the table as she
waved the other one with frenzy, pointing an accusing finger
126 LISA CAMPELL
at Amelia. “Everything would have been fine had it not been

for her.”
“Amelia is innocent.”
“She thrusted herself into this family to prey on our men.
Arthur is hardly cold in his grave and she’s already enraptured
you.”
Anger flared in him. He tried to be understanding to
comprehend her pain. He glanced at Amelia she looked
furious but as she was about to speak, Malcolm said
“Leonora, I can see there is no remorse on your part. No
chance of reconsideration. You choose to cling to cruelty and
bitterness. You can remain here no longer. You will retire to
one of our country estates where you can live in peace for the
remainder of your days.”
Leonora’s head snapped towards him, her eyes wide, her
gaze tortured.
“If disobey me,” Malcolm continued. “I shall reveal your
secret. To everyone. And the reputation you nurtured for so
long will be shattered.”
His words were scathing, brutal in a way, and it pained
him. But there was no other way. Leonora flinched as if
struck by thunder. Moments later, she was banging her hands
on the table. “I won’t allow this! I bled, I fought, and I perse
vered. Nobody can deprive me of the life I deserve you
cannot deprive me of the life I deserve. The life you deserve.
How could I let your chance at happiness slip through my
fingers? How could I not fight for you to marry the woman
who is perfect for you?”
“There is but one woman perfect for me and she is sitting
by your side,” he said firmly. “My decision is final.”
Leonora bared her teeth for a second and then remem
bered who she was. And in true ladylike fashion, she gathered
her gown and stormed out of the dining room.
Malcolm looked at Amelia. Her anger had melted into
profound concern, and he knew she was concerned for him.

She knew this decision he was compelled to make pained him
but he was happy. Happy knowing their life lied ahead of
them knowing they would be free to live it.
She smiled at him, easing at the warmth on his face.
Malcolm smiled back, knowing that he had brought to life
the promise he’d made her.
EPILOGUE
Two Months Later
Amelia believed her first wedding day would be her happiest

day. She was wrong.
Her second wedding day was a divine intervention.
Malcolm had acquired a special license, allowing them to
marry at the manor surrounded by their close friends and
family. Amelia hadn’t many of those, but Frederica had
ensured to invite all those who wished her well on her first
marriage.
Everyone smiled and applauded as Malcolm kissed his
bride for the first time as her husband. The merriment lived
onto the wedding breakfast. Amelia hadn’t realised how
important all this was to her until she no longer had to worry
about it.
Malcolm’s hands would touch her at every given opportu
nity, not caring if everybody daw. Her cheeks were constantly
flushed as she attempted to engage in many a conversation
while his hands wandered on her skin.
“If you won’t stop that,” she whispered to him teasingly,
“then I might do something I shouldn’t.”
“Is that a promise?” His wicked grin made her heart jump.
She forced herself to look away, and focus on the people

around her. She could hardly believe that, only two months
after he had proposed, she was here again. Married. Happy.
And about to embark on a new journey in her life.
Frederica stood on the other end of the dining room,
conversing with a few of her old friends. She had been so
helpful with the wedding. And Amelia knew her heart was
bitter due to Leonora’s absence. She hope she’d be able to
revel in the festivities cast the sadness aside for a short
while.
Not a day went by when Amelia couldn’t think about
Leonora. In the end, she’d left the manor that same day, and
headed to a family estate in Kent. She bade no goodbyes,
leaving Frederica hurt and torn. No matter her actions,
Leonora was Frederica’s daughter still. Naught would ever
change that. And Frederica’s soul was so kind, she had
accepted everything with grace and stillness. One day she
would forgive Leonora’s abrupt departure.
“What is it?” Malcolm whispered to her ear.
“Leonora has been on my mind,” she answered honestly. If
only she were here, with us.”
Malcolm’s face flinched slightly. Amelia would never be
able to completely comprehend how he felt. Nobody could.
She’d only one that, one day, the hollow in his heart would
mend.
“I only wish she could have been here,” Amelia said. “To
see you marry.”
“Bad decisions bear bad consequences. I am not to
blame.”
“I never said you were ”
“Shall we leave now?” he asked suddenly. He smiled reluc
tantly. “We have stayed here long enough. Our carriage to
Scotland is waiting for us.”
Malcolm had employed a steward who’d assist Frederica
130 LISA CAMPELL
while Malcolm and Amelia began their life in Scotland. He

would finally be able to teach, and she would finally have a
new, happy life.”
She nodded with a smile. “Yes.”
Leaving the manor was easy because of Frederica. She
came to bid them goodbye as the were about to get on their
carriage. Amelia felt such an onrush of love swell in her chest.
Frederica had been so kind to her. And she secretly promised
herself she would write her often.
She spoke no words until they were safely on the carriage.
“Are you all right, Malcolm?” she asked.
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
She held his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. “It
is quite alright to not know.”
“But I had two months to find out.”
“These two months have been pressing. The moment you
shall step on Scottish soil, all will be better. There will be
time to know.”
He hu ed a laugh. “I can only hope I shall have enough
time.”
“In that case, you will find a way. You always do.” She
kissed him on the cheek. “It is one of the things I love most
about you.”
“One of?”
“Surely you cannot wish for me to give you a list?”
“The journey to Scotland is long, Amelia,” he said and
squeezed her hand. “There is time.”
Amelia giggled. She felt like she would never tire of this
immense happiness, of the tranquil relief this joy would
accompany them for the rest of their lives.”
“All right” she said, nestling closer to him. “Should you fall
asleep, I will not forgive you.”
His laugh was music to her ears. And thus she started
naming her list when, not longer after, Malcolm sealed it with
a kiss.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Three Years Later
Crying. The sound of crying had awoken her. Her eyes agape,
she sat at the foot of the bed. She was yet to decipher the
meaning of those tears but she certainly knew the source.
That knowledge bestirred her out of the bed and made her
walk out of the room.
Amelia couldn’t see much on her way. She could barely
move. She placed a hand on her back, feeling that familiar
pain slice its way up her spine. She gritted her teeth and
coursed through the darkness, each step bringing her close to
the crying.
A maid was in the room. She was cooing the child in
hopes of calming her but Amelia knew all this was in vain.
Nothing would calm baby Nerissa when she was distressed,
other than the comfort from her mother or father. Amelia
laid a hand on the maid’s shoulder and she sighed, taking a
step back.
“You certainly possess a special talent, Nerissa,” Amelia
whispered as she scooped the child into her arms. She nestled
Nerissa’s body onto her hip as she moved over to the chair by
134 EXTENDED EPILOGUE
the window. That corner was always bathed in gentle moon

light. Amelia gestured to the maid, urging her to leave.
Nerissa, even though she’d acquired what she wished for
her mother’s embrace and undivided attention wouldn’t
stop crying. Moments later, she finally did and pouted
adorably as she rested her head Amelia’s arm, nestling well
inside the curve created by her elbow.
“A talent, indeed.” Amelia brushed away the black hair
curling over Nerissa’s forehead. “Only you possess the talent
to get me out of bed so quickly and so easily.”
“I should have her teach me her ways.”
Amelia’s heart beat rapidly at Malcolm’s voice, and melted
into pleasure a second later. After three years of marriage,
this feeling would not fade away.
He was standing under the threshold, a silhouette in the
darkness. She smiled at him. “Did I wake you?.”
“No, you did not wake me,” he said, coming closer. She
loved the way he looked when he’d just gotten out of bed. His
hair was dishevelled, sleep lingering like a ghost on his face.
He was undeniably handsome. He leaned over and poked
Nerissa in her cheek, who stared up at him with her wide
green eyes. “It was this little bairn over here.”
“I believe she holds the power to awaken Scotland itself,”
Amelia said, gazing down at her. Malcolm caressed her and,
for a few moments, they were both staring at this beautiful
creation of theirs, one holding the best parts of them both.
“Here’s to hoping she sleeps soon. I must awaken early
tomorrow.”
“You can go back to bed,” she told him. “You do not have
to stay with me.”
“I will stay with you, my love. Or else you shall fall asleep
on the chair and wake up with a bad neck, again.” He laughed
and then he rested his hand on her belly. The moment he
touched it, the baby moved. He grinned.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE 135
“Mrs Valerie says any day now.” Most of their attention

now was directed towards their newer creation. “Here’s to
hoping soon means no more than a week my body is
exhausted.”
“Here, allow me.” He extended his hands and took
Nerissa into his arms. She nestled herself into Malcolm’s
chest, he then planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “You
should rest, my love. I will take care of this one.”
“I could never,” Amelia said as she stifled a yawn.
“You could and you will.” He kissed her again “Forgive
me, I had to.”
Amelia grinned at him lazily. “Watching hold Nerissa is an
unparalleled beauty. I am so happy. Let us hope Frederica will
be able to visit us soon.”
“She left hardly a month ago, Amelia,” he said to her.
“Perhaps you can describe Nerissa to her in your next letter.
You have always been talented with words.”
Amelia bestirred herself. She placed her hand tenderly on
Malcolm’s shoulder, shaking her head. “I adore the unique
nature of your compliments.”
He grinned at her, but before he had the chance to speak,
she tightened her grip as pain lanced through her. She felt
liquid rush down her leg and then came that familiar sinking
feeling.
“Amelia?”
“I believe the baby is nigh, Malcolm ” Her sentence
ended abruptly as another round of pain plummeted her to
her knees.
Malcolm, usually calm and high spirited, grew frantic,
much like during Amelia’s first birth. He quickly placed
Nerissa back in the cot when the little girl started her crying
again. Malcolm swiftly called for the maid as he grabbed
Amelia by the elbow and waist, and let her out of the
chamber.
136 EXTENDED EPILOGUE
“All is alright, Amelia. All will be fine.” He said to her in a

comforting tone. He then twisted his head and almost yelled,
“Fetch the midwife!”
Amelia, while in pain, she laughed at her husband. “I
know all will be alright, Malcolm. You are here with me.”
He nodded lovingly, still bound by fear. He walked her
back to their chamber and slowly laid her on her back. He
then sat by the side and held her hand, his face contorting
with hurt every time Amelia was gripped by yet another
shooting pain.
She was laughing. She wondered if the pain turned her
silly.
“Malcolm, you worry too much,” she panted, her face
covered in sweat.
“Am I making it worse for you?” He asked desperately.
“No. Merely a bit di cult to concentrate.”
“How can I help?”
Pain pierced through her yet again. She squeezed his hand
and when she pried her wet lashes apart, she saw his face; pale
in the moonlight. Her chest warmed. “You are perfect.”
The pain kept growing, allowing Amelia little time to rest.
Amelia feared the midwife wouldn’t arrive on time, the baby
was coming fast.
Moments later, the midwife rushed through the door
rendering Amelia at ease.
“Yer right ‘here, me love,” Mrs Valerie stated. She would
deliver the baby instantly. She knelt on the bed, coaxing the
baby out.
“Push!” she shouted.
Amelia could hardly hear her. Pain was all that existed. In
those moments all she could hear was her thoughts, her
prayers beseeching for safe delivery. Beseeching her baby
would be as healthy as Nerissa.
The moment the baby rushed out of her, Amelia was
EXTENDED EPILOGUE 137
dragged out of the darkness. She languished against the bed

as she heard Malcolm’s frantic shouting while his hands
touched her face.
“Don’t ye worry,” came Mrs Valerie’s voice. “She’s just
tired.”
Amelia ignored them. She was waiting for her baby’s voice
and when she finally heard it, she pried her weary eyelids
open. “Let me see her,” she said, holding her arms out.
“It’s a boy,” said Mrs. Valerie. She’d wrapped the baby boy
in a blanket, and cleaned his tiny face. She nestled the crying
baby in Amelia’s arms. No sound were sweeter than this, she
thought.
“A boy,” she murmured. She felt Malcolm by her side,
gazing at his son. “A beautiful baby boy.”
“Does he have a name yet?” Mrs Valerie asked.
Amelia looked at Malcolm and they shared a smile. Then,
together, they looked at the beautiful child who had now
fallen silent at the sound of Amelia’s voice.
“Arthur,” Malcolm said. “His name shall be Arthur
Turner.”
A perfect name for a perfect child. Baby Arthur would
join their loving family, surrounded by unconditional a ec
tion. He would be accepted no matter who he was, no matter
what he wished to become. This was her vow to him as she
stared at his face.
Somehow, she sensed all their loved ones in heaven were
smiling down at them.
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society’s rules to please her family, and Colin, the tormented
Marquess who is su ering by memories of his past. Brought together
through the marriage of their parents, Colin and Lavinia must help
each other navigate the dangerous waters of the ton, while hiding a
bigger scandal. Their forbidden desire for each other.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Campell is an American author specialising in Steamy

Regency romance tales. She decided to realise her lifelong
dream of becoming a writer at a relatively mature age, after
an inciting event taught her that it’s better late than never.
Transferring the intricate storylines of her boundless imagina
tion to ink and paper has been her passion ever since.
Her historical fiction novels have been distinguished for their

intriguing plots, their well situated characters and the atten
tion to detail level they display.
Lisa lives in Santa Clara, California, together with her dear

husband. They are the parents of two children. Before
devoting herself to Regency romance, Lisa split her time
between being a mother and working as a travel clerk. She
now finds her youthful spirit to be revitalised every time she
brings one of her stories to life.
Note om Lisa
If you want to know when my next book will come out,

please subscribe to my newsletter and get my first book for
free, and you will always be the first to know about my
newest novel.
Thank you, your friend Lisa
If you want to keep in touch…
Tap to Follow me on BookBub
Also, you can follow me on Social Media:

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THE EARL'S SINFUL QUEST

Succumbing to passion was never so scandalous...

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Brother's Wife...

Lady Amelia Turner became the Dowager Countess of

Malcolm Turner, the handsome new Earl, is the last man

When Malcolm meets his brother's widow, he is beguiled.

What begins as a cat and mouse game turns into something

Succumbing to passion was never so scandalous...

She was growing frazzled, which was a bit unbecoming for a

husband’s side for his arrival. Arthur had been terrifyingly

deeply and, because of that, Amelia didn’t know whether she

A ceaseless smile rested on Malcolm’s face. And for the days

arms. “You have only just acquired your position and it is as if

“Mind you, Malcolm, if you keep living o this wishful

It felt as if a dark cloud had been lingering over Amelia for

“You do not look ﬁne, my dear” Frederica insisted, still

fallen but she carried herself in a much more virtuous and

what Arthur and the Earldom needed. What could she do

evening felt welcoming, I hope you don’t mind”, said Amelia

Arthur’s death that it would render it hard for her to be

believed,” Amelia said in an attempt to make her feel better.

“Now, what does that make me?” Frederica asked.

Thankfully, Frederica came to the rescue. In a sense. “I

Earl. She wondered what he would be like, and if he was truly

Wilton Manor looked exactly the same. The white mammoth

After all, Arthur had always been a robust fellow, responsible

sorrow in his mother’s eyes caused by losing a child so

Settling his a airs in Scotland had proven to be time

what other little critters you converse with in the presence of

turned to face him. “Do you intend to follow me now, sir?”

he attentively observed the lady who was now watching him

Malcolm. That is my duty. Now, come. We shall assemble in

But no matter how tempting such a thought was, it was

stare at him. But once he pulled away from Frederica, she

“You should be pleased, Malcolm,” she said pointedly. “It

no longer involving her and she wondered if Frederica did

The cooling sensation of the glass in his hand had a calming

though. He couldn’t possibly. She appeared to be quite unlike

sky. “I shall make a note of this, it could prove itself helpful

Malcolm celebrated this small feat in his head. He calmed

tone. “Well, there were indeed matters that required my

“I…” Those words overthrew her. Lady Wilton’s eyes ﬂut

Amelia’s e orts to quiet her mind had been in vain. She’d

It would be an impossible feat and so, when he’d failed to

about the kind of Earl he will become. About how he had

“I only wished to inform you two of our guests this

Lord Wilton’s eyes ﬁxed on her as she struggled to tame her

The more she thought about it though, the more she

Frederica squeezed Amelia’s hand gratefully. “The physician

“Oh, it is nothing.” she said whisking the memory away.

Malcolm had been anxiously awaiting the end of this last

Malcolm’s eyes rested on Lady Wilton instantly. She wore

He glanced at Amelia again. She was quiet but then again

“Is that so?” Leonora intervened. “Tell me, Lady Beatrice,

ﬂattering, however, there is no need for me to marry should I

“I have… not given it much thought,” Lady Wilton said

Exhausted as she seemed, he still managed to get a reac

He chuckled. “Fair enough. My only hope was to see you

trembling before him. “I wish I knew the right thing to say to

Seconds turned to minutes and then eternity itself. Malcolm

And there she was, standing on the same terrace he had

Morning dawned slowly after a sleepless night. Lady Wilton

His words took her by surprise. He lowered his eyes and

gazebo’s entrance, surrounded by roses and swirling magic.