His throat tightened, a heaviness weighing upon his chest, as he thought about her in the apricot glow of the library’s fireplace: the concern knitting her eyebrows together, the worry in her eyes, the urgency with which she had called his name and, in doing so, dragged him out of the depths of a nightmare.
No one has ever managed to wake me from one before.That was the part he truly could not understand. His grandmother had attempted to wake him often, especially in the first few months after his return from war, to no avail. That was howthe entire household had learned to simply ignore it, at his and Caroline’s instruction, while Rebecca had been sheltered from it entirely.
Yet, Amelia had woken him. He hadheardher calling within his nightmare and, the next thing he knew, he was back in the library, gripping her arm for dear life.
“Mrs. Bishop, I have beendreamingof your custard tarts,” Rebecca crowed to the cook, making her way down the line of servants. “I purchased them from no fewer thansixbakeries in London, and not one was as delicious.”
She had similar plaudits for the gardener, the maids, the footmen, while Mrs. Scanlon received some lighthearted ribbing.
“My brother told me of your secret,” Rebecca said to the housekeeper.
Mrs. Scanlon frowned. “My secret, Lady Rebecca?”
“That you told him of my insatiable greed for stoking the fire in the winter,” Rebecca replied, chuckling. “Fear not, I chided him for being such a wicked liar. I know you would never betray me like that.”
The housekeeper’s expression relaxed into a smile. “No, indeed, for if I was to tell him, I would sacrifice my opportunity to be inthose toasty rooms. You have a gift for enduring the winter, Lady Rebecca. I have always said so.”
Lionel watched with hopeful interest, realizing that Amelia was next to be greeted. So, it came as something of a bitter disappointment when Rebecca walked past Amelia altogether, moving straight on to the lady’s maid beside her.
“Oh, Bea, you look even prettier than when we left. I must know your secrets, especially with your hair. Mine resembles a rat’s nest at the best of times—please, do say that you will help me,” Rebecca urged. “Having seen the ladies of London, I have realized I have a great deal of work to do before I debut.”
Lionel furrowed his brow, observing Amelia as she visibly tried to fight her obvious dismay. But it won in the end, her chin dropping to her chest, her confidence fading. It took every speck of willpower he possessed not to scold his sister then and there, but he had a feeling it would only embarrass Amelia more.
Give them time. Do not intervene; you will only make matters worse,he told himself, glancing down at his grandmother. She, too, seemed annoyed by Rebecca’s behavior. And she, too, held her tongue.
“Did you walk in Hyde Park?” Amelia asked, sipping from her cup of tea to wet her anxious, dry throat.
They had all gathered in the Sun Room for refreshments, the low winter sun half-blinding Amelia through the tall French windows. She could have moved but there was nowhere else to sit but the armchair where she was, after Rebecca had commandeered an entire settee for herself, reclining on it.
Amelia forced herself to keep looking at Rebecca, so the younger woman would know the question was directed at her.
After a minute ticked by and she had not answered, the Dowager cleared her crackly throat and replied, “We did, yes. I am surprised Lionel has not mentioned it to you, for he had a rather unexpected soaking after stepping into a puddle.”
Lionel did not elaborate, though Caroline gave him a very pointed look.
“It was practically a miniature lake,” Caroline continued. “He was being gentlemanly, allowing us ladies to use the dry part of the path, but the moment he put his foot into the puddle, half his leg disappeared! And, of course,thatset him off balance, so his other leg went in too. I daresay I laughed until I nearly coughed up a piece of lung.”
Amelia could not help but chuckle, despite Rebecca’s frosty attitude toward her. It delighted her all the more as she noticed Lionel roll his eyes, the ghost of a smirk upon his lips. There was nothing more attractive than a man who knew when to laugh at himself, though Ameliadidwish he had told her the story himself.
“My sister shrieked and declared that I had just ruined her chances of finding a husband,” Lionel added, at last. “Is that not so, Rebecca?”
His sister smiled sweetly at him. “I suppose we shall find out next year, but youmustremember that society has a wretchedly long memory. You dripped all the way home, like some sort of pond creature.”
Seeing another opportunity, Amelia tried again. “Are you looking forward to your debut, Lady Rebecca?”
Considering her rank, Amelia did not have to use honorifics with her sister-in-law, but she felt it was prudent. For now.
The younger woman feigned a loud yawn. “Goodness, I am tired. I do not know if it is the sway of the carriage or if it is these awfully short winter days, but I feel as if I could sleep for a week.”
“Rebecca,” Caroline said sternly. “Amelia asked you a question.”
Rebecca crossed her arms behind her head. “Did she? I must not have heard it. My head feels as if it stuffed with wool.” She paused, glancing at her grandmother. “I suppose I have caught that cold of yours.”
It soothed Amelia a little to hear that Lionel had been telling the truth about his grandmother being unwell, but it was not much of a balm. Indeed, she felt as if she were back at the LisbretEstate, in the drawing room, receiving the silent treatment from her brother and father after some tiny transgression or another.
Rebecca continued to ignore the question, an awkward silence filling the room.
“I remember being terribly nervous at my own debut,” Amelia persevered. “I danced with one gentleman and shook the entire way through. Are you nervous for the occasion, Lady Rebecca, or nervously excited perhaps?”
