Amelia now knew where she had seen the Duke of Mayne’s name as well. It had also been in that stack of letters.
“I suppose you know nothing of this,” Florentia said, her tone accusing.
Amelia looked up. “I have an idea. I think I know who might have invited these guests to a house party.”
Florentia frowned. “Who?”
“I want to confirm it first, and then I promise we will deal with it together.” Amelia started away. She’d ask the housekeeper which chamber was the vicar’s and start by confronting him.
“Amelia,” Florentia called after her. “It really wasn’t you?”
“No,” Amelia called over her shoulder. “It really wasn’t.”
She found the housekeeper in her office belowstairs. She told Amelia which chamber the vicar inhabited, but before Amelia could head that way, a footman pulled her aside.
“My lady, forgive me for detaining you, but I couldn’t help but hear that you are looking for the Vicar Osgood.”
“Yes, that’s right, James.”
He straightened. “You know my name?”
“I should hope I know everyone’s name by now,” she said. “I’ve been here almost a fortnight.” Had it really been that long? It seemed like only yesterday that she’d married. Of course, in some respects it also felt like ten years before. “But you were saying something about the vicar.”
“Oh, yes, my lady. He is not in his chamber. My sister is the chambermaid for that room, and she was complaining about the state it’s in. She’s in there now, still straightening up.”
“I see. Where is he? Do you know?”
“I believe someone mentioned seeing him slip into the library.”
“Thank you, James.” Amelia lifted her skirts and hurried toward the library. The door was closed when she reached it, but she knocked lightly and then pushed it open. For a moment, she hoped she might see her husband at his desk, but the desk was empty. The couch was not. The vicar was sprawled on the dark velvet furnishing, looking much more like a debauched rake than a vicar. His dark hair spilled over his forehead, his violet eyes were sleepy, and his clothing was slightly rumpled—just enough to make a woman want to reach over and straighten it.
Amelia kept her hands at her side. “Vicar.”
“Lady Nicholas.” He rose to his feet, but in a leisurely manner. He moved far more languidly than any vicar she had ever known moved.
“You’re not really a vicar, are you?” she blurted out.
He lifted a brow, making him look very rakish indeed. “No, I’m not. I’m a rector.”
“Rubbish. Who are you really? More importantly, why are you inviting people to a house party neither Lady Florentia nor I know anything about?”
He clasped his hands behind his back, looking bored rather than worried at her questions. “I have no idea what you mean, my lady. House party?”
He was not a good liar. If she’d had to guess, that was likely because he’d had little experience with lying. He was so handsome and charming, he probably never needed to dissemble to get his way.
“Mr. Osgood—if that is your name—a few days ago you handed me a stack of correspondence to mail. I did so. In the process I happened to note the names of several of those to whom you addressed your correspondence. Two of those people have now accepted in response to an invitation. I can only assume you sent the invitation.”
“That wasn’t an invitation I sent,” he lied.
She put her hands on her hips. “Then what was it?”
“It was...hell’s teeth. I’m no good at this.”
“No, you’re not. You might as well tell me the truth.”
“Well, I can’t do that, now can I?” He seemed to be speaking to himself more than her. “Might we sit? It’s too early for all of this standing at attention.”
“It’s noon,” Amelia said, but she gestured for him to return to the couch, and she took the chair opposite. “Now, who are you really?”
“I’m not a clergyman.”
“I’ve worked that out for myself. You’re not from Yorkshire either. Your accent, when you remember it, is all wrong.”
He drew back. “Now I take offense at that. I practiced that accent. It’s perfect. Listen. How do? I dare you to do better.”
Amelia stared at him. He appeared serious, but she was not about to enter into a competition for who had the best accent. Besides, she had already heard him speak enough to discern other information about him. “You’re a gentleman.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t have to. Your actions and your words speak for you. Are you really a friend of my husband’s?”
Now he looked offended. “Of course. Nickers and I have known each other for years. And years.”
Amelia tried to remember the other names on the correspondence he’d given her. She thought she remembered a Lord Jasper Grantham and a Mr. Duncan Murray. She knew she had seen Colonel Draven. Were the others members of Draven’s troop? Could the man before her be part of that troop? It was difficult to imagine him a soldier.
“Don’t tell me you fought with my husband in the war,” she said.
“Hell’s teeth, but you are good. I can’t take it anymore. You’ve tortured it out of me.”
Amelia shook her head. “I didn’t touch you, sir.”
He waved a hand. “My story is torture, and as much as I dislike contradicting a lady, I will stick to it.”
“Who are you?”
“Oh, no. I can’t reveal that. Not even under pain of death.”
She gave him a long stare, and he grimaced.
“I will stand strong,” he said, voice strained.
“Sir, did you or did you not invite your fellow soldiers here for a house party?”
“I did, and I’m not sorry.”
Amelia spread her arms. “But why would you do that? If you do know my husband as well as you claim, you must know that he prefers solitude and surely does not want an influx of people here.”
“Yes, well, it’s for his own good.”
“You did this for his own good?”
“Mostly, yes. Well, partly.”
Amelia closed her eyes and tried to hold on to a semblance of patience. “Does Lord Nicholas know what you have done?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he said.
“And when did you plan to tell him?”
“Er—when the guests arrived? Now, hear me out, my lady.” Amelia had risen and was of half a mind to throttle the false clergyman. He spoke quickly. “If I told him before the guests arrived, he would have told me to call it off.”
“Then you should call it off.”
“No, I should not. The men I’ve invited are our closest friends. We’ve lived through experiences no one else can understand. We’ve saved each other’s lives many times over. They are who he needs right now.”
“Needs for what?”
“To let go of the past. He hasn’t done that yet. He was sent home from the war before the rest of us because of his injury. He never had the chance to celebrate the victory with us. He never had the chance to mourn our dead and celebrate our lives.”