Page 37 of His Spirited Lady
“Youweren’t certain, Mr. Raymond,” Amelia said as she drew closer to Richard. “I never doubted.”
Maybe it was Richard’s imagination that her skirts were cool against his trousers. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Regardless, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her silk-covered knuckles. “Thank you for your faith,chéri.” He tucked her hand into his elbow and met the other man’s stare as he guided Amelia away. “I’m not really theearly to bedsort, Raymond.”
“I can vouch for that,” Fiona Allen all but purred as she stopped beside him on the arm of Jasper Warren. “As can you Amelia, I’m sure.”
“I haven’t had the opportunity to be aboard ship with him.” Amelia’s fingers tightened on his coat. “Yet.”
“Well, surely the kisses he’s stolen keep you up all night in anticipation. I know I—”
“That’s quite enough, Miss Allen.” Richard covered Amelia’s hand with his. “You read far too much into our acquaintance.”
Fiona’s dark eyes flashed. “I don’t recall you being an unwelcome recipient of—”
“He’s correct, Fiona. You’ve taunted my cousin quite enough.” Despite his words, Warren’s smile was as relaxed as the hand holding his whiskey tumbler. “Are you joining us for shooting tomorrow afternoon, Ferrand?” He looked past them, toward the windows. “I’d imagine you’ll put some of us to shame.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Richard said. “Though I’ll have to fight the temptation to change targets.”
Warren tilted his head back for the loud laugh that was apparently a family trait. “Perhaps we could convince my cousin to add boxing to her list of entertainments for the weekend.”
“You two aren’t funny at all,” Amelia said, though she wasn’t as stern as she should have been. “There’s Simms at the door. Dinner’s ready.”
Richard slowed their march toward the dining room and pried Amelia’s fingers from his arm. They left a mass of woolly wrinkles in their wake.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper. “Did Raymond say something to you?”
“Ethan, Fiona, Jasper…and all I can do is be vague and smile as though—” She stopped in mid-sentence and glanced toward the footman who stood within earshot. “I’m not upset, Richard. I’m angry.”
She really was like the peonies Julia had planted their first year in the Quebec house. Even without someone to tend them, the flowers had stayed strong and hearty. Julia would have liked her.
“As you wish,” he murmured.
He led her to her place setting, almost the full length of the table from his. He was destined to sit nearer her mother. Amelia would be close to her father and her cousin. Raymond would be nearby as well. She’d be on her own unless Richard chose to feign ignorance and sit wherever he damn well pleased.
“Don’t let them goad you,” Amelia said as she stopped him from claiming the neighboring chair. “You have more manners than they do, and I’ll be fine.” She kept hold of his hand, and her ocean-deep eyes met his. “Your wine has arrived at the distillery. After the party, wait for me in the stable with the horses. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
It was a romantic notion—a young lady sneaking out of her room for a tryst with her betrothed. Two lovers alone in the dark. But they weren’t lovers, and this wasn’t a tryst. No matter what Fiona Allen might tease. No matter what his imagination might spin.
What this happened to be was a complicated mess. The best thing would be to cry off before he got in too deep for his own good. Amelia could handle Raymond on her own. She’d proved it several times already.
Just like she’d proved that she’d go into the dark with or without him.
“Ten minutes. No more.”
Chapter Ten
Twenty minutes aftereveryone had gone to bed, Amelia descended the back stairs, fighting the impulse to rush. If she thumped her work boots against the steps, she’d wake the household. She also refused to run to Richard’s side.
He didn’t need to know how relieved she’d been when he’d swept her from Ethan’s odious lecture. The man actually believed she should have informed him of her engagement before announcing it to the entire party, since hehad been there first. As though she was India and had to accept him simply because he wanted her. And if she heard “he’s fine, for a tradesman” one more time, she’d scream.
Which she couldn’t do, because polite young ladies didn’t screech at their guests, especially a cousin who prowled the house as though he already lived there. Amelia was smart enough to realize that if her plan worked, if she got to stay on the shelf, she’d need Jasper’s good will. If the distillery failed, or even had a bad year, he would hold the family purse strings. If the distillery was a moderate success and she got to live in her own little corner of Norfolk, Jasper would be her neighbor.
Amelia clicked the kitchen door closed and stood in the courtyard, her gaze trailing up the worn brick walls her grandfather had helped patch as a childhood punishment. Stars pricked the sky, and the moon was nothing but a sliver.
He wouldn’t be her neighbor. He’d put Fiona Allen out here as his mistress and give her a large enough allowance to bribe her to stay. She wasn’t fit to marry, and she was too indiscreet for a house in London.I’ll have to spend the rest of my life listening to her stories of kissing the man who threw me over.
Amelia had gotten a taste of it this afternoon, when the women had taken tea while the men had played billiards. All but Richard, who had left to spend time with his nephew and change for dinner.
Belinda Martin had shot a sly glance toward her a moment before she’d asked Fiona about her time in Paris and her crossing of the Channel. Once she got to the point of meeting Richard, the recollections had been peppered withI’m sure I don’t need to tell Amelia.
