Page 17 of His Spirited Lady
“About my visit to France.”Winerysounded like he was trying too hard. Besides, it led to a lot of embarrassing questions.
“Thank you for the invitation.” Fletcher ushered them to the door. “I’ll come ’round at the usual time.”
They left the building and headed back up the hill to the village. Richard wanted to know why Amelia was checking on her father’s tenants, how she even knew where to start. Most society ladies he knew spent their days avoiding farmers or anything that would dirty their skirts.
“I enjoyed dinner last evening,” he said instead.
“I should have said something.” Amelia sighed. “Graves will have my ears if she discovers I forgot to say something likeyou were delightful company.” Her steps faltered. “Drat. That sounds like you weren’t and I’m just being polite.”
Richard’s laughter built under his ribs and climbed upward. “Thank you, I think.”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It’s just that my mother is planning a house party.”
And Amelia hated parties. “I see. Can I assume that Mr. Raymond will be returning?”
“She’s sure to invite him.” She didn’t seem the least bit excited. “Which will cause all sorts of problems.”
Richard looked down at her hat, waiting in vain for her to speak. It was as though she’d forgotten he was attached to her, or that they had been in a conversation. He didn’t mind the silence.
When they reached Oliver’s cart, Richard unwound himself from Amelia. The air smelled of trees and earth, and his forearm cooled.
“I would like to hear more about France,” she said. “I hope you will be a guest at the party.”
“How forward of you.” Her quick blush had him regretting the tease. “My apologies, Miss Chitester. I just…”What? Am at ease with you in a way I’ve not felt with atongirl? I like hearing you laugh?He needed to come to his senses. She was destined for London and he was destined for Quebec. “Why don’t you come to dinner?”
The spark in her eyes died quickly as she glanced to her chaperone. “Dinner would be an ordeal. It’s always a group affair.”
Richard nodded. It was one of the reasons he avoided society girls.
“Perhaps another time,” Amelia said. She had the most appealing quirk to her smile.
“Perhaps at your party.”
Chapter Five
It had beenone of the best days in Richard’s recent memory. His muscles were tired from the exertion, his lungs were full of clean air, and if he concentrated, he could still smell the damp of the forest.
When he closed his eyes, he could imagine all those nights, years ago when he and Oliver stumbled home from the mill with Simon bundled against them. Just the three of them in a house that had been meant to hold a gaggle of children, loving parents, and a doting uncle.
With eyes open, he couldn’t pretend any longer. Oliver was there, though the plump, happy baby in his arms had red hair. Simon was there, but now he cheerfully recounted every funny story from school, and everything his friends said, and everything he’d learned. They also weren’t alone any longer.
“Jenny and John are doing well with The Goat,” Thea said, handing a ledger back to Fletcher. “Though I didn’t expect otherwise. He mentioned a new barn when I was there today. The location is far enough from the inn so as to not bother the guests.”
“And it will save funds in the long run,” Fletcher said. “They need more livestock, and definitely more chickens. Jenny has resorted to buying eggs, which she hates to do.”
The businessman was across from him in a matching wingback chair near the fire in an almost identical pose—his feet propped on an ottoman and a whiskey glass in his free hand. Though his boots gleamed in the firelight while Richard’s well-used work boots soaked in the heat. He had to admit one benefit of having a staff. The sitting room was warmer, given that there were people in the house all day to stoke fires.
“Which is why I told them to go ahead,” Thea said. “We have more than sufficient funds.” She looked to Oliver. “John will come see you tomorrow about the lumber, and I expect a bill.”
“Maybe I’ll charge you double since you’re reaping the benefits of increased trade in the village.” Oliver’s tease ended in a laugh as Thea punched his shoulder.
After Oliver’s return, he’d written of Thea, who he’d found again as a local innkeeper, but Richard hadn’t paid much attention. He’d focused on the talk of the new mill, Simon, and family struggles. She had been featured more prominently in later letters, but the inn was hardly mentioned. This conversation wasn’t what Richard had expected from a former innkeeper rescued into the life of a duchess.
“Thea owns The Goat,” Drake said without opening his eyes, much like someone would state that Lord Russell was the prime minister.
“You mean Oliver—”
“No,” Oliver said, his smile widening. “He means exactly what he said. Thea owns it, and Drake is her man of business.”
