“Amelia, what?—”
“Shh!” She pressed a finger against her lips. “Someone’s in the closet.” Words mouthed more than spoken.
He frowned and joined her, ear to the door, arm nestled round her waist. He had a habit of touching her when he could. He could not seem to help it.
Her eyes sparkled, and she pressed her ear harder against the wood, a finger to her lips.
Drew followed suit. The sounds from within were muffled but recognizable—moans and gasps. Hell.
“Are they… kissing?” Drew asked, trying not to sound outraged.
“Yes, I believe so. Or more.”
“No one willor morein my closet.” But just who wasor moring?
“Shh!” She swatted his arm.
He kissed the nape of her neck, nipped her earlobe. No one wouldor morein his closet but forhim. If only he could convince his wife they needed a tiny little break from the whirlwind of preparations they’d been nose-deep in for weeks now.
He’d also, of course, need to convince whoever currently occupied the closet to leave.
“We can’t,” a male voice mumbled from within. “We shouldn’t.”
“And yet we are.” A female giggle muffled by the sturdy door.
Drew stifled a groan. He knew those voices. He never would have expected it, though, and when he met his wife’s wide-eyed gaze, he knew she never would have either.
“Bernard and Miss Angleton?” she mouthed.
He shook his head, shrugged. The choices men and women made constantly confounded him. But then there weren’t many Amelia’s to go around. Only one. So the rest of the world had to make do with subpar choices. They did, presumably, the best they could with what they had.
He placed his lips just at the shell of her ear, almost touching, but decidedly brushing. “Bernard prefers to go by Mr. Richton now he’s butler.”
“You’re a baron’s daughter,” Bernard—Mr. Richton—said on a groan. “I should not let you touch—” A hard-edged gasp.
“Yet Iamtouching,” Miss Angleton said, her voice pure mischief.
“We should not be listening,” Amelia whispered, trying to drag Drew away from the door.
“Besides,” Miss Angleton continued, “I’m no longer a baron’s daughter. I’m a baron’s cousin, a castoff. And a companion to a woman who does not particularly care one way or another about what sort of man I spend my time with.”
“I don’t want time, Harriet.” Bernard sounded sterner now. “I want forever. But all I’ll ever be is a butler.”
“The best butler the world has ever seen.” The statement preceded a peculiarly loud smacking sound Drew would not inquire further into.
“Bloody hell,” Bernard moaned. “Marry me?”
“Youfinallyask.” Silence was Miss Angleton’s answer to Bernard’s question, but that silence was likely filled with actions other than speech.
Drew let Amelia draw him away from the door and back to their study. He squeezed her waist until she rested her head on his arm, and he drew his fingertips up and down her belly.
“What will they do?” he asked. “Miss Angleton lives at Briarcliff with my mother and Bernard here with us. That sort of distance is not conducive to marriage.”
Amelia sighed. “Either Bernard must find a position at Briarcliff, or we must find a position for Miss Angleton here. Though I can’t imagine a more perfect spot for her than at your mother’s side. Except, naturally, a spy sent to be Tidsdale’s undoing.”
“Minx.” He kissed the top of her head. “Miss Angleton has been tamer this visit.” Itmightbe possible to entrust her with serious responsibility.
“I think your mother is wilder than she, and she’s found herself often in the position of tempering your mother’s impulses. It’s likely taught her to temper her own.”
