Rebecca reached for her cup of tea and sipped. “This is rather bitter today. Do you think they use different tea in London, Brother?”
Amelia exhaled softly, her cheeks warming.What did I do to make you dislike me? You do not even know me.
It would have been better to find out that Rebecca was always like this, but the staff had been singing her praises for days, and judging by the looks on Caroline and Lionel’s faces, this behavior was out of character.
“Mywifehas asked you a question twice,” Lionel replied, his voice laced with warning.
“It really must be my hearing,” Rebecca insisted. “She speaks so quietly. I have not a hope of hearing her. Indeed, I think I shall take my tea to my chambers and rest awhile. I am too weary for conversation.”
Rebecca moved to get up, but Lionel was faster, blocking his sister’s path to the door.
“You will be courteous, Rebecca,” he said coldly. “You will sit down, you will drink your tea here, and you will converse with my wife with civility. This childish behavior is beneath you, and I will not tolerate it.”
Anger flared in Rebecca’s eyes, her free hand balling into a fist. “You cannot make me speak, Brother, nor will you speak tomein such a manner. I am not a soldier to be commanded.”
“You forget yourself, Sister,” Lionel replied, his expression darkening. “Do not deign to dictate to me. You may not be a soldier, but you are my ward and my sister, and youwilldo as you are told. You will not like the consequences if you do not obey.”
Rebecca inhaled sharply. “I do not like any of the consequences, Brother, nor shall I pretend to. You might be content with this, but I am not. And if I must be punished for my feelings on the matter, so be it, but I will not sit here and smile and behave like a doll when I am…furiouswith you and what you have brought upon this household!”
She whirled around and stalked toward the French doors, slamming out onto the terrace, sloshing tea with every step. Lionel called to her, but she ignored him, storming on to the gardens. The creak and slam of the entry gate rang out the warning that she was not to be followed.
“I am sorry, Amelia,” Caroline said, heaving out a weary sigh. “She will be spoken to.”
Lionel glared at the still-open terrace door, clearly trying to decide if he should go after Rebecca and scold her now or wait and scold her later.
That will do no one any good,Amelia knew, as she rose to her feet.
“Oh, my dear, do not leave,” Caroline urged. “Wecan still enjoy tea and conversation.”
Amelia offered a small smile to the Dowager. “I am not leaving, My Lady. I think it would be best ifIwent to speak with her. I would like to try, at least.” She took up her teacup and saucer. “Please, excuse me.”
Steeling herself, she headed out into the cold, wondering what would have her bones shivering first: the bitter weather or Rebecca’s blatant hatred for her.
She had made it to the grassy slope leading down to the gardens, when she heard footsteps thudding behind her.
“Do not try to stop me,” she said, turning.
Lionel slowed, opening out a thick, woolen blanket. He draped it around her shoulders, holding the sides for a moment, creating a peculiar bubble around them. Aside from last night, it was theclosest she had ever been to him, his towering figure no more than half a step away. If he were to pull on the sides of the blanket, she would have had no choice but to close that gap.
Peering up at him, she said breathlessly, “What are you doing? Is this how you mean to drag me back inside?”
“No,” he replied, his eyes unreadable. “I told you last night that you must be appropriately attired. You keep forgetting that it is winter. I do not want you to catch your death out there.”
“If I am to catch it, I do not think it will come from the temperature,” she replied shyly, as he crossed the sides of the blanket over the front of her, swaddling her almost. The warmth was welcome indeed.
“Share this with her,” Lionel said. “And do not let her smell your fear.”
She frowned. “Was that a joke?”
“I dare not say. Ask me again when you return in one piece.” He took a step back, and with the blanket wrapped tightly around her, Amelia headed for the gardens.
Reaching the entry gate, she turned back to the terrace. Lionel was still standing there, watching her, as though he really did care about the outcome. As if he really did want his sister and his wife to get along.
But why, if I am of no importance to him?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The icy air nipped at Amelia’s cheeks as she meandered through the countless different realms of the Westyork gardens, the sky darkening overhead with thick clouds that she hoped would not unburden themselves before she found Rebecca.
