Page 17 of Deceiving an Earl
Oliver had a brilliant idea to introduce Amelie to his sister. Josie would love to introduce Amelie to her friends. But bringing a possible Chartist into his family was probably not a good idea.
“Let me see what I can do about that,” he said recklessly, while also chastising his big mouth.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you,” she said quickly.
“I can’t guarantee anything, but I will see.”
The good doctor had reached Ellen’s side and cupped her elbow with his hand. She smiled over her shoulder at him, and Oliver’s stomach twisted. He had no right to Ellen. For God’s sake, she’d been married for nearly fourteen years to another man. If he’d had any rights, he’d given them up long ago.
“Amelie?”
Antoine Bertrand approached, his gaze bouncing between his daughter and Oliver. Clearly the man was confused as to why his daughter was speaking to Oliver.
“Papa, I would like you to meet Lord Armbruster. My lord, this is my papa, Antoine Bertrand.”
Bertrand eyed Oliver warily. Oliver gave him his most charming smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bertrand. Miss Bertrand was telling me all about her home in Paris and how much she misses it.”
Bertrand’s eyes clouded, and Oliver wondered if maybe he had misspoken. Recklessly he went on, ignoring the clanging in his head to shut his mouth.
“I was thinking that Miss Bertrand and my sister would suit well. My sister could show Miss Bertrand around the city. They could go riding in Hyde Park one morning. It would all be very proper.”
Bertrand now seemed intrigued. “Poor Amelie has been lonely since I dragged her to England. I will admit that I don’t know many people her own age. That is very kind of you to offer.”
Oliver noted that Bertrand did not take him up on the kind offer.
“Where are you staying? I can have my sister call on Miss Bertrand.”
“My lord.”
Oliver turned to find Ellen at his elbow, and his breath caught in his chest. Would he ever not be surprised to see her so close to him?
“Lady Fieldhurst.” He bowed over her hand as her gaze flickered between him and Bertrand.
“Mr. Bertrand, I hope you don’t mind if I pull Lord Armbruster away for a moment?”
“Of course not.” Bertrand took his daughter’s elbow and steered her toward the refreshment room. Oliver was disappointed to see them go. He’d been hoping to find out more information from Bertrand.
“That is an odd acquaintance to make,” Ellen said, looking at him closely, not willing to admit that she was curious as to his interest in Bertrand.
“I don’t know what you mean.” But he did know what she meant. Ordinarily, Bertrand was not the sort of person Oliver would talk to at any type of event. “I was merely welcoming him and his daughter to London.”
She raised her brow in disbelief.
“Can I speak to you privately?” he asked.
The other brow rose. “Here? Now?”
“I realize it’s probably an inconvenient time…”
The doctor was nowhere to be found, and Oliver wondered where he had gone off to. Normally he was hovering closely behind Ellen, like a lap dog.
The thought was unkind, but Oliver didn’t care.
Ellen seemed to be considering him. “I have to make sure the ensemble is ready, then direct my guests into the room where they will be playing, but…”
“There you are, dear.” And just like that, when Oliver was hanging on that word “but,” the doctor appeared, frustrating Oliver to no end.
She smiled up at Needham and patted his hand.
