At that, Lionel expelled a relieved breath. “I think it might be best if we did not speak again until we have reached Westyork,” he said. “My horse is not easily spooked, but once she has been, she will be anxious all the way there.”
Amelia was not sure she believed him, suspecting that he was just saying that to avoid talking to her about what had almost happened again, but she was not certain enough to disobey him. And the thought of having to endure a fright like that for a second time was a good enough to reason to keep herself silent.
But do not think I will let it lie,she told herself.Once we have returned to Westyork, I will have the answer to my question—what if my way of enjoying this lifeisto be near to you?
And, this time, she hoped that no clumsiness or terrifying event would happen to prevent him from replying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“My husband must have been exceptional at hide and seek in his youth,” Amelia muttered, having no appetite for the buttery eggs and delicious toast that sat untouched on her plate.
She would have preferred to take breakfast in the kitchens with the servants, but she did not want to offend Caroline and Rebecca, who had joined her in the breakfast room. Lionel, of course, was nowhere to be seen.
“Actually, he was terrible,” Caroline said with a smile. “He used to giggle if you came into a room to look for him, giving himself away.”
Amelia glanced at the older woman, unable to hide her surprise. “I cannot imagine Lionelevergiggling.”
“He used to be much merrier,” Rebecca said, offering a sad smile. “I maintain that we can return him to his former self,though it shall take great time and effort, and so many jests and japes that it will test even the limits ofmycreativity.”
Caroline chuckled, but it faded as she looked at Amelia. “Has he gone underground again?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Amelia mused aloud. “One would think he was some manner of mole.”
Rebecca laughed softly. “It is what we call it when he disappears for a few days. It is quite impressive, in many ways, for he makes it seem as if he has left the grounds of Westyork, but he never takes his horse or a carriage, and no one ever actuallyseeshim leave. So, many of us suspect he has a hiding place thatno oneknows about.”
“Has something happened, dear girl?” Caroline asked gently, as she sipped her cup of weak coffee. “I know you are likely exhausted by the question by now, but did something occur at the Duke of Thornhill’s ball?”
It had been three days since that ball, and the moment that Amelia and Lionel had returned, he had made himself scarce. As if he knew that she might want to discuss what had been interrupted. She had looked for him in the day and in the night and had listened out for the telltale sounds of his nightmares, but there had been no sighting or whisper of him anywhere.
“Nothing more than I have already told you,” Amelia replied with a sigh. “My gown tore, we rode back so as not to ruin your night, the horse spooked, and then we carried on. That is all.”
She could not very well inform Caroline or Rebecca that she had thought there might be a kiss, and that she had yearned for one, especially as she did not know if hewasgoing to kiss her. It was all speculation, and the longer Lionel remained absent from her presence, the more she doubted herself.
“Are you certain?” Caroline urged.
Amelia hesitated, remembering something. “Therewasa… difficult conversation.”
“About what?” Caroline set her cup down and leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
“Well… he thinks that I am going to be unhappy, and though I tried to tell him otherwise, he would not be persuaded,” Amelia explained, uncertain of whether or not she should be saying so much about it. “I do wonder if that is why he is keeping his distance.”
Rebecca scoffed. “Goodness, he issucha pessimist! He ought to have ‘doom and gloom’ as his middle names. Why, I have tried to tell him so very often that if he thinks things are going to be bad, they will be. If he thinks things will be good, they will be. He does not believe me.”
“He has been through a lot, Rebecca,” Caroline chided softly, a strange expression on her face. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes clouded over, looking down at her plate with too much intent, as if there was something she wanted to say, but could not decide if she ought.
“I know that,” Rebecca replied defensively, “but he is not at war anymore, he has become the wealthiest man in England, he has a beautiful wife who we all adore, and he has good friends he can rely on.Whenis he going to be happy if he cannot be happy with so much? It is… infuriating and rather a kick in the teeth to those who have far less.”
Amelia heard what Rebecca said, but she was struggling to divert her attention from Caroline and that odd, sad expression upon her face.What do you know? What are you not saying?
She was in the midst of mustering the courage to ask, to delve deeper into the mystery of Lionel Barnet, when the breakfast room door burst open and the housekeeper, Mrs. Scanlon, came bustling inside. She had a look about her that spelled ill tidings, her cheeks flushed red, the rest of her face a deathly pale, her eyes wide to the whites.
“There is an unexpected visitor, M’Ladies,” she said in a tight rasp. “I have placed him in the drawing room.”
Caroline pursed her lips. “An uninvited guest? Well, who is it?”
Mrs. Scanlon glanced at Amelia, her expression deeply apologetic. “It is Her Ladyship’s brother.”
Nausea roiled in Amelia’s empty stomach, acid rising up her throat. Even without Lionel’s company, she had not felt alone within the walls of Westyork. There was always someone who was eager to see her, always someone to talk to, always someone who wanted her opinion or just wanted to wish her a cheerygreeting. Truly, she had come to think of Westyork as her home, to the point where she had almost managed to forget where she had come from.
