Page 54 of His Spirited Lady
Richard fixed his gaze on a safe, empty corner. “I’m sorry to disturb—”
“Don’t look so embarrassed.” Augustus chuckled. “After luncheon naps are the best way to waste a rainy day. Is something amiss downstairs?”
Richard gave them the main points of the afternoon, and rushed to help Marian out the door so she could see to the young ladies.
“She’ll tear a strip off Raymond’s hide before he leaves,” Augustus said. “Jasper’s with him now?”
Richard nodded. “And his valet’s been directed to pack. He may be gone from the house before she can reach him.”
“I hope so for his sake. He was her favorite in the suitor race, and she doesn’t take well to being disappointed.” He swept back the coverlet and stood, using the back of the chaise for balance. “Pull the bell, would you? I’ll want to send everyone else on their way personally.”
Richard did as he asked and then kept on a path toward the door. It stung that Amelia’s mother preferred Raymond to him. “I’ll see what else I can do.”
He emerged from the sitting room into a completely different house. The halls were full of maids and valets rushing from room to room. Chaperones were flying up and down the stairs like great ravens. The downstairs door was open, and Jasper was half-dragging Ethan Raymond from the house.
Richard brushed past the younger man’s valet, who was babbling a string of apologies to anyone who would listen, and helped shove the unconscious scoundrel into his coach. A heedless Raymond lay sprawled, halfway on the floor.
Together, he and Jasper watched as the coach leapt to a start and sped away.
“Well, I’m certainly glad he’s not marrying Amelia,” Jasper drawled in his lazy way. And then he broke into an Augustus-like laugh.
Richard joined him.
They were still laughing when they returned to the drawing room, and every lady there turned to give them a horrified stare. All except Miss Gerard, who was locked in a quiet conversation with Charles Grayson. Jasper went to comfort a stricken Fiona.
Amelia left her guest’s side and folded herself into Richard’s arms. “This is all my fault,” she whispered against his chest.
“It is not,” Richard murmured as he kissed her forehead. “He should have had more sense. Even Fiona knew to behave—”
“He was drunk, Richard. He didn’t know what he was doing because he’d been drinking whiskey.Mywhiskey. If this is what comes from it, then maybe I should let Drake take an axe to it after all.”
He led her to a quiet corner and backed away enough to see her clearly. She’d been crying. Over some spoiled bastard who retreated to the bottle when he hadn’t gotten his way.
“Amelia, you know alcohol in excess gets people drunk.”
“Of course I do, but I didn’t know it makes people hateful.” She looked past him, her lips trembling. “I wanted to stop Fiona teasing me, but I never wanted her to be hurt like that.”
She was an amazing young woman, facing her tormentors one moment and then worrying she’d wronged them the next. If he let himself, he could fall in love with her.
Richard’s heart stuttered in his chest. She’d made it clear, more than once, that theirs was a business arrangement. She enjoyed kissing him, but she didn’t want to marry. She didn’t want to live anywhere but here, where she could have success on her own terms. His job was to keep anyone from endangering that. Including him.
“I want you to hear what I’m saying.” He waited until she focused on him. “Being drunk does not make people anything other than what they really are. If they’re happy, they grow exuberant. Sad people become morose. And angry people…”
“Grow hateful?” she whispered. “Are you certain?”
If she only knew how hateful Oliver had been before Julia had set him straight, or how morose he and Oliver got every year on the date of her death. They’d banned alcohol from the house for so many years that he still went out when he wanted a drink. “I am. Raymond was angry before he ever picked up a bottle. You saw that yesterday.” The memory made him wish he’d gotten a lick in before Jasper had delivered punishment. “And if you give up your goals because of him, he wins, Amelia.”
She nodded once, then again, stronger. “Thank you, Richard. I am so glad you were here to deal with the awful parts.” She frowned, and he stopped himself from running his finger between her brows to smooth the lines. “Though I don’t quite understand all of it,” she continued. “The lifting the skirts thing is fairly obvious, but the dirty knees—what on earth does that have to do with anything?”
Laughter gurgled in his throat, only to be dammed by her earnest stare. No woman who made whiskey for a living, dressed down earls-to-be like a fish wife, and kissed a man until he was dizzy could be that innocent. Except that she was. She was supposed to be. He’d spent too much time in clubs and brothels, where the women knew every trick. Some had even taught him a few.
Richard banished the images from his mind, because it wasn’t a prostitute he wanted on her knees in front of him. It wasn’t a courtesan he wanted in his bed.
“Richard?” she asked, her frown deepening.
“I’ll explain it to you later.” It was an automatic answer, one he often gave Simon when he couldn’t stop what he was doing. Most of the time, the boy forgot his question. Richard hoped to bloody hell Amelia forgot this one, because he couldn’t explain it to her.
And he didn’t want another man doing it.
