Page 71 of His Spirited Lady
“I’m only saying there is no shame in accepting help when friends offer it.” Every time he spoke, her stomach fluttered. Even when she was angry with him. Even when he looked at her like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Well, she didn’t want him on this trip either. “Accepting help is different than having it forced on you.”
The wheel struck another hole, and Amelia was tossed against Richard’s solid arm before she could grab an anchor. He touched her just long enough to make her crave his warmth, and then she retreated like a turtle into its shell.
She brightened her smile and faced her hosts. “At least that one wasn’t my fault.”
Oliver had an arm around Thea’s shoulder, securing her to him as though he was worried she’d shatter. “I won’t complain,” he chuckled. “But we might end up covered in spirits before we ever reach London.”
Amelia looked to the ceiling. Her first case of aged whiskey was up there, meant for the lending circle—to prove their faith in her hadn’t been misplaced. There were also two more cases of wine for Jasper. He’d written with the request and an invitation to a private ball. He claimed it was to celebrate her engagement, but she didn’t believe he needed an excuse for a party.
Regardless, it gave her reason to travel to London with a duchess as her willing chaperone. The only issue was her fiancé. “They should be safe. Mr. Latimer wrapped the shipment for safe travel.”
“You’re welcome,” Richard muttered.
Amelia chose to ignore him rather than start another fight. She retreated to her corner of the coach and tightened her grip on her anchor.
“It’s wonderful that you had a position for Ben, even if it’s only until the wedding,” Thea said. “You’ll need the extra time he can buy you over the next few days.”
That appreciation would likely vanish when she didn’t marry, didn’t leave Thetford, and still let Mr. Latimer go. “I didn’t count on having another employee so soon, especially not a resident. It’s difficult to come and go without raising suspicions.”
“If you were honest with him, it might make things easier,” Richard said.
It wasn’t that Amelia didn’t grasp his reasoning. She even appreciated it. The last few weeks had left her exhausted, but this morning had been deeper than that. Father’s illness, and Mother’s necessary focus on his needs, left the household looking to Amelia for direction. From the moment she woke, someone was asking her questions or telling her what they thought she should know. There wasn’t a quiet space in her day. “Easier is a matter of opinion.”
It wasn’t an accusation, but Richard focused on her like a large owl. “What does—”
“It’s like going into the woods alone, Rich.” Oliver’s gaze met hers. His smile told Amelia he understood her dilemma. “Sometimes, work isn’t about work.”
Thea’s rich laugh rippled through the coach, coaxing smiles before she even spoke. “Hazel caught me mopping the hall a few days ago. She was halfway through scolding me before I could explain that I simply needed to busy my hands and quiet my thoughts.”
“She’s not used to a duchess who thinks, much less one with busy hands.” Oliver kissed her hair.
“Don’t be so hard on your mother,” Thea chided. “Being a duchess is a job all unto itself.” Her steady gaze met Amelia’s. “Any society lady really.”
Richard snorted. “I think there are people who would trade places with you in a moment.”
Oliver stripped from his coat, folded it, and put it behind his back as a pillow. “Thea knows more about the businesses in Thetford than I will ever.”
“But they are your responsibility,” Richard argued. “Not everyone has those same demands.”
Oliver barked a laugh as Amelia turned to stare at Richard, her eyes wide.
“What’s your favorite flavor of cake?” she asked, only to interrupt him. “And your favorite fall flower if we want to have them on the table for the wedding breakfast? The modiste is coming. Do you want peach silk or blue velvet for your traveling dress? This is the household budget for the kitchen this week. Would you prefer beef or pork roast from the butcher? The upstairs maid has taken ill, but one of the houseboys can step up to help with the fires so a younger girl can step up to help with linens; will that be acceptable? The coach needs new paint and upholstery. Which styles would you prefer? Margaret Gerard’s wedding should be held soon. Will you stay for it or return from France? The bills are on your desk for review when you have a moment. Mr. Gray is ill, so we’ll be sending a basket. Do you want to take it when you go by? Poor family, they’re going to lose their harvest unless they get help. The Wood family lost their father to a farm accident. Without a means of support, the younger children will have to be sent out to family in Suffolk. The Jones’s home needs a new roof before winter, especially since she’s been ill. They could afford it if they could sell the rest of their pears. Doctor Anderson will be visiting at teatime. You’ll need to be here to entertain. And—”
Richard raised his hands in surrender, but his eyes held a challenge. “Then why make the choices you have?”
If he was inclined to consider her responsibilities a chore, he would never understand that her inspiration for whiskey was born, in part, out of her involvement with her family’s tenants. She knew what they were harvesting, what they needed, how they worried for their children.
“You’re marrying a baron’s daughter with a substantial dowry,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Why don’t you count your looks as currency and try for a better purse? Why don’t you sell your business interests and trade in gossip?”
Richard stared at her for a long moment before nodding his understanding, but he didn’t say anything further. Which was fine. Amelia was talked out.
On the other side of the coach, Oliver stretched his legs across the seat, bracketing Thea in his lap and offering his chest as a pillow. She took it, pulling a blanket over them both as she snuggled against him.
They had a love match that was also a partnership. As a child, she’d seen them in the village. They’d been inseparable, two halves of a whole. They were the same now, each filling the other’s empty spaces. If Amelia were ever to marry, she’d want a marriage like theirs.
The road had smoothed out, so Amelia released her grip on the hand hold and rubbed her tense knuckles. If she and Richard had discussed hiring Ben Latimer, she likely would have handled it better. But he’d ambushed her with it, leaving her adrift as he’d pointed out her shortcomings—like her height, which she couldn’t control anyway.
