Valery cast a sour smile in Martin’s direction. “A good evening to you too. It is my fault we are sitting—I have a sore ankle and needed to perch for a while.”
“Yes, well, you do often seem to be the cause of the problem,” Martin muttered, returning his cold attention to his sister. “I saw Lord Jesmond approach you. Did you put his name on your dance card?”
Amelia grimaced, shaking her head. “I did not.”
“Again, my fault,” Valery interjected. “I told that pair of halfwits that it was unseemly for them to bother your sister without the proper introductions. Perhaps, if you wanted her to dance with one of them, you should have been with her.”
Martin’s eyes flared with anger, and Amelia shrank beneath the ferocity of his glare, both grateful for her friend defending her and wishing she had not said anything. Martin did not like hisownshortcomings to be exposed, and he liked Valery about as much as she liked him—which was to say, not at all.
He put his hand on the back of Amelia’s chair and bent closer. “I knew you would do this, Sister. I knew you would not be able to help bringingsomemanner of shame upon our family. Lord Jesmond had every right to ask you to dance, and now he will think you are haughty and disrespectful. That sort of rumor about your character will spread, you mark my words.” He sniffed. “But no matter.”
“Pardon?” Amelia blinked, confused by those three small words. Martin had never let her various ‘offenses’ go so easily before.
“It does not matter,” he repeated harshly, standing back to his full height, “becauseIhave already found you a husband. Let us hope word of your rudeness has not yet reachedhim.”
CHAPTER TWO
Amelia sat rigid in the chair, eyes so wide and unblinking that they began to sting, every impulse telling her to get up and run. At the very least, to say everything she had held back for years; all the ways in which he had suffocated her.
“I beg your pardon?” Valery spoke where Amelia could not, rising up out of her chair. “You have mentioned nothing of this to your sister! You cannot just march over here and tell Amelia that she is to be married.”
Martin glowered at her. “As you said, she ismysister. She knows her duties. She understands expectations, and she shall do what is required of her. She is two-and-twenty, for pity’s sake—it is high time.” He took a breath, straightening out the front of his waistcoat. “Nor is it any of your concern.”
“But it is… rather a shock,” Amelia gasped, desperately trying to bring a greater protest to her lips. “You said… nothing of this. I deserved to be… warned.”
“Sister, you will come with me,” Martin instructed sourly. “The Baron awaits his formal introduction.”
Amelia still could not move, panic freezing her limbs, her heart somehow beating too slow and too fast at the same time. Her stomach twisted into knots while her mind struggled to fathom what she was hearing. Surely, this had to be a bad dream.
“No,” she whispered. “I am… not prepared. I… I cannot. Let me have tonight. I…”
Martin was not listening, holding out his arm impatiently. “Hurry yourself!”
“Valery,” Amelia urged, neglecting to add,I need you to speak for me.
Valery nodded and took a step, as if she meant to put herself between Martin and Amelia. “You just asked Amelia why she was not dancing. That suggests to me that you are in no great hurry to take her to this… Baron. Arrange to have tea tomorrow with the man; do not take her from my side tonight. Do as she wishes, and let her have tonight.”
“And allow you to whisper doubts in her ear? I do not think so. Besides, my wishes are her wishes and she will do as she is told.” Martin stretched out his arm, waiting for Amelia to take it.
If I do not stand up now, it will be worse. Get up, Amelia! Get up!It took all of the willpower she possessed to rise from herchair on shaky legs, her lungs fighting for air. And when she glanced at Valery’s horrified, heartbroken face, it wasalmostenough to make her sit back down and refuse to budge.
Almost.
“Donotembarrass me,” Martin hissed. “People are watching.”
Which people?Amelia’s eyes flitted toward that shadowy corner once more, but the gentleman with the spectacles had gone.
Sighing quietly, she took hold of her brother’s arm and offered an apologetic look to her dearest friend, wishing she had even a morsel of Valery’s courage. But it was impossible to break the habits of two decades in an instant, and though she hated her brother’s controlling nature, hated how small he made her feel, she could no sooner defy him than she could take to the stage and sing an operetta.
No matter what his command was, she had to obey. That was who she was, and who she had been raised to be. Besides, if she disobeyed her brother, she would only receive a worse barrage from her father, and the outcome would remain the same: she would do what she did not want to, behaving as the dutiful, docile lady she was supposed to be.
Moll Flanders would not suffer this…Then again, Amelia would not have wanted to be Moll Flanders.
With her chin down as always, staring at the front of her shoes as they peeked out in turns from the hem of her skirts, she allowed Martin to lead her through the opulent Assembly Rooms.
As they walked, she heard more chatter about the enigmatic Earl of Westyork. Valery had been right; itwasanyone seemed capable of talking about, to the point where she almost pitied the Earl his sudden explosion of fame.
“He must have decided to make a grand entrance,” someone said confidently.
