Amelia threw open the guest bedchamber door, and Miss Angleton popped up from where she napped. “Who? Huh? Wha?” Miss Angleton rubbed her eyes, blinking, until she focused on Ameila in the doorway. “Oh, good morning.”
“Good afternoon. Get dressed, please. I’ve need of you.”
Miss Angleton was an angel of chaos, trailing the inexplicable in her wake wherever she roamed. And chaos was precisely what Amelia needed to explode the predictable comfort of Lord Andrew’s life.
This was war. He wanted her to do and say and be one thing.
But Amelia would do and say and be what she pleased. She helped Miss Angleton dress, and together they took off down the path toward the village.
“I need your help, Miss Angleton,” Amelia said.
“Truly? With what?” She yawned, a giant, close-eyed affair that tipped her face to the sky. Then she tripped on a stick and righted herself with a giggle.
“I’ve grown rather bored, and you are brimming with excellent ideas for diversion. I thought to seek your council.”
“Excellent! We’re walking toward the village. Should we see if the blacksmith is handsome and in the mood for a flirtation?”
Hm. Would Drew respond to jealousy? Was he capable of feeling such an emotion? Perhaps. Tidsdale, after all. Yet… Drew would not be nearby to view a flirtation, so it would count for nothing.
“Not today.” She would not, however, rule it out entirely. “What did you do for fun before…” Drew had made it agency policy that they not refer to the employees’ pasts. The agency provided for the present and the future, and no one had to dive into things they’d rather forget if they did not wish to.
Miss Angleton placed a hand on Amelia’s shoulder, stopping her. “I do not mind speaking of my life before. It was a good time, and I’m happy to remember.” She started down the path once more, and Amelia followed. “I spent most of my days at my papa’s country estate. I was his only child, and he taught me things most girls likely did not learn. Hunting, fishing, swimming, archery.”
“Archery.” That sounded exciting. And it could be done before a window. Amelia took hold of Miss Angleton’s wrist and pulled her back down the path toward the castle. “I’d like to try that.”
“Do you have the proper equipment, Mrs. Dart?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see, won’t we.”
They checked with Mr. Scott in the stables, then with the gardener, before Mrs. Scott finally located an old set of bow and arrows as well as a few memories of their last time in use.
Amelia’s father had been a young lad, his sights not yet set on sailing overseas. She led Miss Angleton and the footmen carrying the equipment around the side of the house and looked up at the window of the study Drew had claimed for his own. The curtains were open. Excellent. But his back was likely to the window if he sat at the desk.
“What should we aim at?” Miss Angleton asked.
Amelia looked about. This side of the house was flat and grassy, no gardens past the small herb garden that hugged the castle walls.
“Let’s bring a table out,” Miss Angleton suggested, “and set it up over there.” She pointed into the field. “We can put various odds and ends atop it and aim for those.”
“As you say. Will you show me how it’s done?”
Miss Angleton, staring out toward the field, hands on hips, whirled, her mouth open in astonishment. “You’ve never shot a bow?”
“No, I’ve not.”
“You’ll adore it.”
Amelia looked up at the window. Still nothing but the back of his head. “Miss Angleton?”
“Yes? Oi! Bernard! Be a dear and fetch us a table?”
Bernard stomped their way, scowling.
“Miss Angleton,” Amelia said, ignoring the incoming footman, “what do you think would happen if I shot an arrow at a closed window?”
“The glass would break, no doubt.”
She couldn’t do that to get his attention, then.
