Wicked Passions: Book 1 in the Wicked Love Series

May 1871 Lady Amelia Southerton sat on the edge of her cousin’s four post bed swinging her legs wildly as her cousin, Christine Winthrope danced about the room reliving the previous night’s events. Amelia was only sixteen while Christine was eighteen. Last night the ladies attended a ball at Almacks. While the dance was exciting, Amelia did not enjoy herself nearly as much as Christine. “I’m so glad your father allowed you to come out early, Amelia.” Christine breathed. “Last year was such a bore without you.” Amelia did not share her cousin’s exuberance with the London Social Season. She found all the rules to be overwhelming and stifling. Her Aunt, Lady Beatrice Winthrope, spent most of the evening loudly correcting the sixteen-year-old. The young girl picked up the pink blanket from her cousin’s bed. Everything in the room was a shade of pink, Christine’s favorite color since childhood. Amelia wrapped the blanket around her and got up from the bed, swaying to the imaginary music Christine was dancing to. She glanced in Christine’s full-length mirror and wrinkled her nose. The pink did not go well with Amelia’s flame-colored hair and green eyes. The blanket trailed on the floor and Amelia tried harder to wrap the blanket around her; all the extra fabric made Amelia look chubby instead of accentuating her curvy body. “You danced divinely.” Amelia smiled as Christine continued to whirl around the pink room. Amelia secretly long to be tall and slender like her cousin. Christine’s light brown locks hung straight down her back, flowing ever so slightly as Christine spun. Her eyes were closed as she turned herself right into one of the bedposts. Amelia giggled. “I’m clumsy,” Christine grunted. “No, not badly.” Amelia protested. “It’s true. Mother always says it.” She frowned. Instantly the girl’s smile brightened. “Did I tell you about Lord Fredrick Denton?” She asked her cousin. “Yes, on the ride home. And you went on and on about him before you fell asleep.” Amelia smiled. “He’s so tall and handsome, a little taller than me. It’s so nice to meet a man taller than me.” Christine grinned. “He loves books and horticulture, and I think I’m in love.” The older girl breathed. “He comes from a very respectable family and his mother wants him to marry quickly and give her many grandbabies.” “Isn’t he older than you?” Amelia asked. “By a few years.” Christine smiled A soft knock was heard at the door. The girls admitted the maid. The servant’s head was cast down and from what they could see, she was wearing a solemn expression on her face. “Miss Amelia, your presence is required in your Uncle’s office.” “Whatever for? Uncle Charles has never allowed me in his office before.” Amelia asked. “I was informed to bring you down immediately.” The maid said standing aside so Amelia could follow her out the door. Amelia dressed quickly and followed the solemnly faced maid to her Uncle’s downstairs office walking down the hall on the worn carpets. The maid knocked on the door, opened it and stood aside to allow Amelia to enter. Her uncle sat behind his large mahogany desk. The room was sparsely furnished, containing the desk, two old wooden mismatched chairs and a fire place. The drapes were blue with gold piping and full of moth holes. They had been opened to allow light, but it only allowed a person to see how badly the room and furnishings needed repairs. Charles’ light brown hair was receding, and his face was thin. His grey eyes were surrounded by puffy sallow skin showing signs of excess drink and little sleep. In his hands was a letter with her father’s solicitor’s seal. Her Aunt Beatrice stood beside him. Her green eyes were red, rimmed and slightly puffy as well. The woman must not have had a chance to dress either, Beatrice’s auburn hair was still hanging loosely instead of wrapped in one of her intricate designs. Normally, Lady Winthrope would never leave her chambers without being dressed in her finery. The faint lines of age showed heavily around her eyes and mouth. Amelia glanced around the room and her eyes landed on her uncle’s cold features “Oh Amelia,” Beatrice said as she flew across the room and hugged her niece. Beatrice sobbed on Amelia’s shoulder. “It’s your father.” She continued. Amelia stood rigid and confused. Her Aunt rarely showed affection of any kind and Beatrice was openly sobbing. “I don’t understand.” Amelia said. “What’s wrong with my father?” “He’s dead.” Sniffed Beatrice. “There was an accident in his warehouse. He was in his office when there was a fire. He was trying to get employees out to safety, but he didn’t make it out of the building himself.” Amelia felt her knees buckle and her head started spinning. This isn’t possible she thought. Her father was a strong man. “Of course, we will notify your brother George in America,” Her Uncle said coldly “but who knows how long it will take for him to get the message.” Her brother was in the United States. He had an investment with a steel company and decided to travel there personally to oversee operations. “No,” Amelia said. “My father is not dead.” “I assure you,” her uncle continued callously. “Your father died in an accident. Here is the letter from his solicitor.” Her uncle Charles handed her the letter. Amelia clutched the letter and tried to read it. Her eyes drifted over the words on the paper over and over not understanding what she read. She looked up at her aunt and uncle’s faces. Her head continued to spin and the room joined along. Her aunt and the solemn faced maid were on either side of her, holding onto her arms. The letter was on the floor. The maid and Beatrice helped Amelia into one of the worn chairs. Her body was shaking uncontrollably as tears rolled down her face. “But he was so strong and healthy. Father could do anything. No, it’s just not possible.” She said shaking her head no. “It is all in the letter. You read it yourself.” Charles said pointing to the letter on the floor. He sniffed indifferently never looking at Amelia. Amelia trembled. She could not understand how her uncle could speak so callously to her. Her father was always there to take care of Charles’ problems. How could her uncle be so cruel? “Mistakes are made, Uncle Charles. Perhaps it was someone else that died, not my father.” Amelia sniveled, her hands still shaking. “No, there was not a mistake. Your father is dead and that is that.” Her uncle spoke to her like she was a misbehaving child. “Georgie, I need Georgie.” Amelia cried. She placed both hands over her face, tears shedding uncontrollably. Her brother had been the one to comfort her after their mother had died and she felt like she needed him to lean on again. George and her father were her rocks to lean on. With her father dead and her brother miles away, Amelia felt as if the ground beneath her was crumbling. “We already sent a letter to George,” Charles continued, “but it could take months for correspondence to reach him. And with your father’s finances and estate to handle in George’s absence….” Amelia cut him off. “Estate and finances?” She hissed. Amelia jumped out of her seat and ran up to his desk, clutching the edge with her left hand. Amelia pointed her right index finger in his swollen face. “You dare talk to me about money at a time like this?” The staff spoke freely about her uncle’s gambling habit and the Winthrope family’s desperate need for money. She overheard a few snippy comments about her cousin’s family finances at the dance the night before. Everyone seemed to know that Charles was out late many nights in his gentlemen’s club. She knew why her uncle was concerned about finances; her aunt and uncle would not have access to any of her father’s estate without speaking to her brother first. They had frequently borrowed money from her father and never repaid. That is why her father had expected Beatrice to take Amelia out into society this season since it was the very least she could do. “Amelia,” her uncle said sternly, he pushed himself out of Amelia’s reach. “I am not concerned with finances, but as of right now you are in our care until your brother claims you. And I do not know how long that will take. Other than your dowry, your father did not have anything saved aside to care for you, that burden now…” This time Beatrice interrupted her husband. She placed her hands lightly on Amelia’s shoulders and drew her away from the desk. “What your uncle means to say is that you are our responsibility now and sacrifices must be made while you are in our care. Sara,” Beatrice snapped her fingers at the solemn faced maid, her tone had changed when she spoke to her servant, “take my niece back upstairs and let my daughter know that this evening’s activities have been cancelled.” Beatrice waited for the maid and Amelia to leave the room. “You i***t,” she hissed. “You almost told her everything. She does not need to know we are destitute.” “You are dramatic as always, Beatrice. We are not destitute. We just have a small shortage of funds, and I was not about to tell anything to that girl.” He rolled his eyes at his wife’s theatrics. Unfortunately for Charles, he did not seem to have a grasp on how desperate their situation was. “Do you have George’s letter from the solicitor?” “Yes” she said with a grin. The Southerton solicitor had stopped by the Winthrope townhome that morning. Beatrice said that she would send George’s letter to him herself. She had insisted that a letter like that would be better coming from family. She held the letter with the red stain from a wax seal that had been carefully removed. Beatrice tossed the letter in the fireplace, and a duplicate letter sat on the desk. This one stated that Amelia and her father died in the fire. Charles opened his top right desk drawer and pulled out the solicitor’s wax seal. “Some more melted wax should fix that.” She said pointing to the seal. “With the stipend, we received to care for Amelia we should be good.” Beatrice continued. “I plan on writing to George in a few weeks to see if he would grant us the money and property that would have been for Amelia’s dowry to help increase the size of Christine’s dowry of course.” She smiled. “Of course.” Charles agreed. “This is what happens when people like us work. I told you your brother was a fool for running his own company.” Charles spoke shaking his head. A faint crewel smile painted his lips. “The stipend for Amelia’s care will only last until she turns eighteen. What will we do then? Amelia will have no dowry or money.” “Leave that to me.” Said Beatrice, she had everything planned.