You could act less excited to be rid of me.Amelia rewrapped the handkerchief around her finger, frowning down at the floor.
She was so invested in her thoughts and the pattern of the Persian rug that she gasped as a figure crouched in front of her, rough hands, covered in thin scars, taking hold of her own.
“Are you injured?” Lionel asked.
She gaped down at him, noting the slight flare of disapproval in her father’s gaze, out of the corner of her eye. “I… pricked my finger, that is all. I believe I shall survive.”
“You say that, or perhaps you will sleep for a hundred years,” he replied, whispering in a low voice, “Elle tombera seulement dans un profond sommeil qui durera cent ans, au bout desquels le fils d’un Roi viendra la réveiller.”
She will fall into a deep sleep that lasts a hundred years, and be awakened by a King’s son…She could not have been more shocked if Martin had started dancing in celebration of the upcoming marriage, toasting to the happiness of his only sister. Lionel had just quoted Perrault’s ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ In French. For her ears only.
“You should bathe it in vinegar or brandy, just to be certain you are not cursed,” Lionel added, taking the handkerchief and wrapping it more tightly, and more carefully, around her injured finger.
He tied a knot and stood up, dipping his head to Francis. “You should take good care of her until our wedding day, Your Grace. I do not want my bride walking down the aisle in bandages.” He shot a darker, colder look at Martin. “You too. It is a brother’s duty to protect his sister until a husband comes along to take that duty from him. Remember that. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do.”
He left without ceremony, the drawing room deathly silent in the wake of his departure. Martin sat, astounded, as if he had been physically struck, while Francis sat back in his armchair and nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with the entire thing.
Meanwhile, Amelia gazed down at the handkerchief Lionel had tied around her finger, remembering his proviso the previous evening:As long as you remember that this will only be a marriage of convenience.He must have had his reasons for accepting her middle-of-the-night proposal, and none were based on affection or the promise of it.
She could not afford to fool herself into thinking this would be anything other than it was—two strangers helping one another out. A bargain of mutual benefit. He got a wife of convenience; she got an escape from being the Baroness of Hervey. Him quoting Perrault meant nothing, and though she relishedreading, she could not read into his actions too deeply. Why, he had likely only wrapped up her finger so he could spurn Martin.
Indeed, as the enormity of what had been agreed began to dawn on her, she could not help but feel like she had just trapped herself in a different, but no less restricting, situation. She was merely exchanging one gaoler for another.
And I know nothing about him…She clasped her hands in her lap, fighting against the tremors that quaked through her veins.Oh heavens, what have I done?
CHAPTER SIX
“But why must it be so soon, Lionel?” Caroline insisted, as she walked at his side through the private park opposite the townhouse.
Rebecca had scampered off to lavish attention on a pretty brown and white spaniel, though Lionel suspected it was also to let their grandmother try and talk him out of the imminent wedding. When he had returned from the Lisbret residence four days ago, he had been met with shock and concern, and it felt like he had been having the same conversation on an endless cycle ever since.
“I am not inclined to argue with your reasoning,” Caroline continued. “Heaven knows you are the most sensible of us, but even I—rash and reckless as I was in my youth—took two months before I married your grandfather. And we were already acquainted, which should have scared him away, but your grandfather was a courageous soul. Never shied away from a challenge.”
“It is cowardly to marry quickly and decisively? Goodness, I never knew,” Lionel said, his jests often too dry for most to deem amusing.
Caroline rolled her eyes. “You know that is not what I meant. What do you actuallyknowabout this young lady?” She paused. “I noticed that you still have not brought her to the house so that we might investigate for ourselves. One might think you were ashamed of us.”
“I would not want to scare her away.” Lionel elbowed his grandmother lightly in the ribs, prompting her to perform a melodrama of gasping and wincing and clutching her side.
“Oh, you brute!” she cried, drawing the attention of a few other walkers.
Lionel leaned in. “Thisis why. I am not ashamed of either of you, but this is a delicate matter, and I mean to let my bride settle into Westyork before I let the two of you loose on her.” He took a breath. “That is why, after the wedding, we will go on to Westyork alone, and you and Rebecca will follow a few days afterward. I trust you can keep Rebecca out of trouble until then?”
“Mercy, I cannot promise the impossible,” Caroline said with a grin, patting her grandson gently on the arm. “Of course, I will keep her out of harm’s way. I suppose I shall just have to store up my anticipation for finally meeting your bride until you are ready to receive us, then.”
Lionel led his grandmother over to a bench, still damp with the morning’s rain, and shuffled off his greatcoat, laying it down for them to sit on.
“Grandmother, you will see her at the wedding,” Lionel said.
“See her, yes. Be given permission to speak with her, no. You will undoubtedly whisk her away before I can say so much as a ‘how do you do’.”
Lionel grimaced; thatwasthe plan, but he did not realize that his grandmother would have guessed it so soon. In truth, he had recently been considering not inviting them to the wedding at all.
“Have you asked your bride if she wishes to stay at Westyork?” Caroline prompted. “What if she does not? What if she has a preference for the city? She must have friends who will be enjoying the Season, while she is set adrift in the solitude of the countryside. Not all are made for relishing nature, dear boy. Not all are like us. I am not even certain Rebecca is like us. She is positivelymadabout London.”
Lionel balanced his sore leg on his opposite knee. “I intend to let my bride choose her residence, Grandmother. After the month of our honeymoon, she will be free to live wherever she pleases.”
“And this is what you want? Truly?”
