“But you, a gentleman of business, should have known to make the details perfectly clear,” she replied sharply, trembling though she held her head high. “Unless you are a charlatan? Are you a trickster in business?”
He walked back a few paces, perching on the edge of his desk. Subtly, he stretched out his sore leg, cursing the cold weather and the desk chair for the fresh aches.
“I certainly am not,” he answered curtly, insulted by the suggestion. If he did not suspect that he had hurt her first, he would have taken it personally. “I am as honest a businessman as you are likely to find. And yes, perhaps I should have made the details clearer, but one cannot answer what one is not asked.”
Amelia seemed to freeze, her plump lips slightly parted, her eyes going blank. He had flummoxed her, but he had no doubt that she would come up with a reply. She was an intelligent woman who was unaccustomed to being allowed to speak her mind; he had gauged that much.
“You make an excellent point,” she said at last, coming back to life before his very eyes. “Very well… I am not asking you to spend every waking moment with me, but if you are determined that I should dine in an appropriate setting, then… you will share one meal with me.”
He stared back at her in surprise, flummoxed in return. He had said it himself: she had no one else to dine with until his grandmother and sister arrived, and she did not want to dine alone. That left only him as a suitable candidate for dinner or breakfast. Although he did not want to risk getting close to her, or her getting close to him, he also did not want to be boxed into the same category of wretch as her father and brother.
It was a conundrum, not easily solved.
Breakfast would be the shorter choice, but I am rarely in a good temper at breakfast.
“One dinner,” she added hastily, as if she could read his thoughts. “Tonight. You can bathe and change, and I can meet you in the dining room at… seven o’clock. That ought to be plenty of time for you to finish what you are doing and ready yourself.”
He sighed and shrugged. “Seven o’clock it is.”
This way, at least it would be over with quickly, and she would see exactly why it would be better to wait for Rebecca and Caroline if she wanted to have entertaining dinner company.
But her face brightened at his agreement, her eyes wide with disbelief and excitement, her hands clasped. At the same moment, a smile broke across her beautiful features, like the sun coming out from behind dense thunderclouds. The sight of it, lighting her up from within, nearly made him knock over the inkwell next to his hand.
“You shall not regret this!” she chirped, turning on her heel.
Oh, but I fear I shall…he mused, as she ran from the room without another word, crowing about having to fetch Bea at once.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Do I look presentable?” Amelia asked, turning this way and that as she looked at her reflection in the long, oval mirror.
She was bathed and dressed, her hair coiffed into a bun, wearing her mother’s necklace for courage, and a few dabs of her favorite perfume. It had been a gift from Valery to celebrate her debut four years ago, and it had continued to be her one rebellion. Her father thought the scent was vulgar, so she hid the bottle in her reticule, waited until they were at a ball or gathering, and dabbed it on her wrists and hair so she could blame the scent on the throngs of other ladies if he noticed it.
“Presentable?” Bea chuckled. “You look magnificent! Like a true Countess.”
“You really think so?”
Bea nodded effusively. “I wouldn’t lie to you, My Lady. I’m fairly certain I’m not allowed to.” She grinned. “I have to say, I’m mighty glad that you and His Lordship are dining together tonight. Not that we don’t like having you in the kitchens, of course, but we were all wondering if you wereevergoing to dine together.”
You were not the only ones…She held her tongue, not wanting any of the staff to know that there was anything amiss with the marriage, even if they could probably deduce that for themselves. A couple who spent the first four days of their honeymoon apart would naturally beg some questions.
“Are you looking forward to it?” Bea prompted.
Amelia hesitated, pursing her lips. “I think so.”
She did not altogether recognize the woman staring back at her through the mirror, wearing an elegant gown of lavender muslin; the woman in the mirror had brighter eyes, more color in her cheeks, and more confidence in her posture than the Amelia that she knew. Whether she had realized it or not, the past four days of freedom had done Amelia some obvious good, reflected in her demeanor if not her mind.
It is because you are not afraid of being shouted at. Your nerves are not on the knife edge that they once were.At home with her father and brother, unless both had ventured out somewhere, she had been on constant tenterhooks, waiting to be scolded for one thing or another. She had been cautious about everymovement, every action, but that anxiety had not followed her to Westyork.
Even Lionel scolding her for eating with the servants had been mild in comparison. Perhaps, that was why she had felt able to stand her ground for once.
“It is almost seven,” Bea said. “Do you want me to escort you down?”
Amelia shook her head. “No, thank you. I will go alone.”
And hope that my husband is still a man who keeps his promises…
Smoothing down the front of her skirts, though there was not a crease to be seen, she headed out of her bedchamber. The short distance from there to the dining room below seemed to stretch with every step she took, her confidence waning, her nerves returning with a vengeance.
