Page 44 of His Spirited Lady
The twinkle in his eyes sparked to something darker, deeper as his hold tightened. “I was awake far too late last night.”
“Kiss me and you’re forgiven.” The words were out before Amelia could consider them, but as Richard kept her close, she was glad she’d said them.
He kissed her on the nose and pulled away to wink. “I’ll not scandalize you in front of your guests no matter how sweetly you ask,” he whispered as he kept her close. “I’m sorry to give you a fright. I stopped at the house so Simms could direct me. He says your father is having breakfast in his library. That’s a good thing, yes?”
It was a return to normal, which was an excellent thing. Tears clogged her throat as she nodded. It would be so easy to lean against him and weep at the cruelty of hope.
“Amelia, we don’t have to—”
“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and left his embrace. However, she put her hand in his elbow as he followed their—her—guests. She couldn’t stop touching him and, when he covered her hand with his, she considered whether he felt the same. However, maybe it was just to convince everyone else of his affection.
“I’m afraid we’re separated this morning,” she said in her most businesslike tone. “Jasper asked to partner with you, and I had already decided to match make.”
Richard nodded. “Everything seems to be going to plan.”
It was not Amelia’s plan to deliver him into Fiona Allen’s clutches and then walk away, but she did it. She also took a lower position behind the blind so that she didn’t have to watch them across the field, or the carnage that would certainly ensue.
“I suspect we’ll have to keep on our toes to best Warren and Ferrand,” Tony Ashton said as he checked his rifle.
“I suspect that’s why Miss Chitester chose it,” Ethan replied. “Is that so, miss?”
“We chose it because Oakdale has fine game and plenty of room for an activity young men enjoy.” Amelia glanced toward their gamekeeper’s son, and apprentice, who was serving as Ethan’s loader.
The pride on his face, and the respect in his nod, made her wistful. She remembered when the family had arrived on the estate, and how hard they had worked to restore Oakdale’s herds and flocks. She hoped Jasper kept them on.
“And not because your betrothed has likely had to scour the woods like a wild man for his meals?”
Heat bubbled in Amelia’s chest. Not only was he insulting Richard, he was also demeaning the young man next to her. A skilled huntsman, he kept several families in meat during harsh times. “I’d value any man who could care for himself and his family, rather than simply hunting for sport.”
Ethan balanced his rifle on the wall of the blind, his back to her and his stance wide. “Trust me, Miss Chitester, I know the value of the hunt and overcoming my prey.”
Tony Ashton caught her gaze, his eyes wide. “I say, Raymond, all this talking is scaring the game.”
“Not just the game,” Annabel whispered as she plucked up a charcoal stick. “Your Richard may find himself mistaken for a stag.”
“Or Ethan may be recognized for the boar he is.” If Amelia could find a long enough stick, she’d be tempted to poke it up the man’s arse. “Though Mr. Ashton seems more pleasant.”
“Tony has always been kinder than Ethan deserves. They’re cousins, you know?” Annabel swept her tool in a wide arc, making the creation of hills seem effortless. Amelia couldn’t draw without leaving finger marks on the paper. She invariably ended up with charcoal on her nose.
“Would their relation be a drawback to forming an attachment with Tony?” Amelia whispered. “I’ve heard he’s a fine catch.”
More precisely, she’d heard that he didn’t gamble to excess, didn’t drink himself into oblivion, and that he treated his servants well. His father didn’t keep a mistress, so it was assumed Tony wouldn’t either. He certainly wasn’t rushing to the altar as though he needed financing. But Annabel had likely heard the same gossip.
“I appreciate your efforts,” the young woman said without raising her eyes from her sketch. “But it is wasted on me.”
“You are too harsh on—”
“Amelia, my father invested heavily in a foolish scheme that has depleted his living. He’s using my dowry to stay one step ahead of collectors and debtors’ prison. You must have noticed my dresses are from last year.”
She did recall that the green dress Annabel wore today had been worn by her sister in a prior Season. Though her sister was shorter and wider, and the dress had been altered with an expert hand.
“I am sorry, Annabel. Is there anything I can do?” Amelia’s mind was already spinning with how she could connect her newest friend with the ladies in the lending circle. Perhaps they could fund an art gallery or a dress shop—assuming Annabel had done her own alterations, of course.
“Your friendship means everything to me, and I hope you will agree to keep it.” Annabel rested her charcoal near the page, keeping it in place without leaving an errant mark.
“Of course.” Surely she didn’t expect Amelia to turn her back simply because her father was foolish. “And perhaps there is a chance to make a match with—”
“No titled man will take a wife without a dowry.” Annabel said it like they were discussing the weather. “You and I both know that. My father knows that.”
