He shook his head. “No.”
That awful silence returned, while Amelia floundered for something else to say.
“Do you play an instrument?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“Several. Badly.”
She waited for him to ask her in return, but he did not. “And dancing—do you like to dance?”
“Not particularly. If I did, I might not have found the idea of attending balls in search of a wife so tortuous.”
She swallowed thickly. “Why did younotannounce yourself at that ball?”
He scooped up the last of his soup, holding the spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth as he visibly considered her question. “I did not want to be set upon by the motherly hounds of society. They would have torn me apart.”
It was the first honest answer she had received, and while she probably should have left it there, she allowed herself to be encouraged instead.
“I did pity you that night,” she said. “You were all anyone could talk about… though, if they had not gossiped, I might never have heard about your search for a wife. My brother liked to burn the scandal sheets before I could read them, you see. He deemed it improper for a lady to read such things.”
Lionel gave her a look that made her wonder if he agreed with Martin. There was certainly a hint of disapproval on her husband’s face, but she could not tell if it was the conversation as a whole, or just that part. Either way, she squirmed, hating the silence, but not wanting him to deem her improper.
I could not bear it if he started scrutinizing everything I do. Although, it would make Westyork feelverylike home.She half laughed at the thought, drawing another critical glance from Lionel.
“Why on earth would you pity me?” he asked, perhaps insulted, though it was hard to tell.
She shrugged, setting her spoon down. “Because they all wanted a piece of you. They were fervent and I have no doubt that if you had made yourself known, they would have swarmed you. No one spoke ofyou, as a person, but of your wealth. As if that was all that was important about you.”
“It was not important to you?” His voice was a note softer, his eyes creased at the corners.
“Oh, well… I am afraid my motivation was far more selfish,” she mumbled, wondering what temperature her blushes could reach before her entire face actually burst into flame. “And, of course, the night I… um… visited you, I did not know you were the same gentleman that I saw in the corner. You cannot imagine my shock when I set eyes upon you.”
Lionel sat back in his chair, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Amelia watched the slow touch of the fabric, mesmerized by the way he pressed it to his lips.
“I imagine it was not unlike seeing a lady dressed as a gentleman in my townhouse drawing room,” he replied, his eyes glinting in the candlelight.
Amelia reached hastily for her glass of wine and gulped down a mouthful. “I admit, that was not my proudest moment.”
“But are you saying you did not know who I was when you called upon me?” he asked, and though she did not meet his gaze, she felt the burn of it.
If it had not gone against years of discipline and etiquette lessons, she would have taken her napkin and fanned her face with it. Why was he looking at her like that, with such intensity? Did he mean to make her uncomfortable, or was she just not used to being looked at while she spoke, as if what she had to say had value?
“I did not,” she replied, almost choking on her wine. “I mean, I knew you were the Earl of Westyork, but I did not know the Earl of Westyork was you.”
Goodness, I sound like an imbecile.
He held the stem of his own wine glass, turning it slowly back and forth. “So, what was the ‘selfish’ reason you came to me? You never did tell me the details in their entirety.”
“No, I suppose I did not.” She paused, more confused than ever as to why he had agreed to her proposal.
He had not knownwhathe was rescuing her from, so it could not be as simple as a chivalric instinct. She remembered being rather vague and rather clumsy with her words, not making the most compelling argument in the world, so why had he accepted her?
“All you said was that you wished to change your fate, and that the alternative would be unbearable,” he prompted.
You remembered that?
She cleared her dry throat. “Indeed. Do you know of Baron Hervey?”
Lionel pulled a face that suggested he did.
