Page 25 of His Spirited Lady
“I kept a rake in my hand and stayed on the other side of the room.”Most of the time.“And I told her she shouldn’t be there alone.”
Oliver shot him a glance, his smile wide. “How did she respond to that?”
“I believe she evicted me.” The knife hung as Richard misjudged the angle. “Méprise.”
Oliver chuckled. “Erreur, en effet.”
“I didn’t make a mistake, Ol.” Not with Amelia anyway. “She shouldn’t be alone, and the fact that everyone lets her—”
“No oneletsAmelia do anything,” Oliver said as he took the lead in their race. “And since when has it bothered you when a young lady was alone?”
“You make it sound like I’m some sort of lecher.” Richard doubled his effort, refusing to think of Fiona, who he’d met on the sail from France. Or more aptly, the young lady who’d met him. “Every woman in my path is clear on our relationship.”
“However fleeting it may be,” Oliver teased.
The joke was irritating. “Which is why I don’t entangle myself with society misses.” Richard slicked the last of the bark from his side a moment before Oliver.
He strode to the head of the log, leaving Oliver at the foot, and together they turned the log to reveal another dark swath. This time, they raced toward the middle. “And I wouldn’t be entangled with one now if you had warned me I was going into business with a baron’s daughter and a pirate.”
“Smuggler.” Oliver grunted a laugh. “And if I’d told you, I’d miss all the fun.”
Chapter Seven
“You look lovely,dear.”
Amelia met her mother’s gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Thank you.”
She was just vain enough to take the compliment. She might not want to have a party, or a husband, but that didn’t mean she wanted to have ugly dresses and drab hair.
The dress was meant to make her stand out. In contrast to the coppery gold bodice and skirt, the modiste had used a French silk for the godets and the center of the bodice and skirts. Every time Amelia stepped, gold constellations sparkled against a blue as deep as the night sky. They’d found the silk years ago on their travels. Amelia believed Mother had hoped to use it for nursery curtains. That opportunity had never come.
“It would make a beautiful wedding dress,” Graves said from her chair next to the gleaming dressmaker.
Since the fabric couldn’t be used to celebrate an heir, it could be used as bait. Amelia shoved the bitter thought away. It wasn’t their fault if she had other interests. “It will also be perfect for this weekend’s dance.” To prove her point, she twirled in a shaft of sunlight so the stars could spark. It made her feel like a girl again.
“With your beauty and that fabric, every man in the room will notice you,” the modiste said. “There will be a queue to speak to your father.”
Every man except the one she had hoped would do it. Amelia closed her eyes to calm her thoughts, and a vision of Richard at the altar swam in the darkness. Amelia cursed her imagination as she opened her eyes to the harsh sunlight. That wasn’t what she’d wanted, though it seemed to be exactly where his skewed logic had taken him. Leave it to a man to believe she wanted to restrict his freedom when all she wanted was her own.
She twisted her hand behind her back to reach the laces. “Should we try the pink one next?”
That gown was equally pretty, if a bit more traditional, and there were gloves to match. That gave Mother the urge to ask for blue gloves for the gold dress, which was draped over the bed, shining in the afternoon light. It was as though atonmiss had collapsed on the bed after a successful society evening.
School had been dismissed by now, which meant the distillery was full of noise as the children arrived for work. Amelia had hidden in the office one day to listen, just to make sure she’d selected her employees well. Freddie Baxter was a natural foreman, even if he was only twelve. Sara, her label writer, was a fretful girl, always worried about mistakes or using too much paper—or glue. She didn’t like it when it oozed around the edges and dried in globs on the glass. “Wiping it off when it’s wet makes the label crooked,” she’d told the younger child helping her. “Wiping it off too late makes the glass cloudy. Here, let me show you again.”
Amelia had increased Sara’s wages after that visit. Freddie’s, too. She’d seen Sara’s mother in the market, her basket laden with necessities. The thatch on the Baxters’ roof gleamed gold in the sunshine.
It was prettier than any dress.
“The guests will be arriving soon. I should change.”
“Of course.” Mother moved to the door. “Miss Gleason, if you’ll follow me, I’ll see to your payment. Amelia, I’ll send Rose in to help.”
“I’m happy to do it, my lady.” Graves came to Amelia’s side. “I’m sure Rose is seeing to Amelia’s wardrobe for the weekend.”
“True,” Mother sighed. “There’s so much to do. Thank you for helping, Graves.”
Once they were alone, her chaperone carried the gold dress to the wardrobe. “The blue for this afternoon, I think.”
