Page 83 of His Spirited Lady
“She hurt her back in the garden last summer, but the medicine Doctor Anderson gave her didn’t help enough, even though he said she should be better.”
Amelia’s stomach plummeted. Despite the glitter, thetonwas full of whispered stories. “So she found something else to help?”
“A man came through Elveden last fall with a tincture he said would cure her pain, but she’s still not well.” The young girl produced a frayed but clean handkerchief and blotted her eyes. “And it takes more and more to make her comfortable.”
Laudanum. It had to be. “Were you stealing from the distillery to buy the drug?”
“No, m’lady.” Florence’s bottom lip trembled. “Food. Papa’s wages take care of it most of the time, and the butcher gives him meat in trade, but the boys needed new winter things this month. They can share most things, but it means they wear out twice as fast. Or that only one of them can work at a time. We need every hand, Papa says. Mama’s doctor is costly.”
Her mother’s doctor was likely no doctor at all.
Florence stared at the square window, where Lillian was visible. “Has she come to take me for thieving? I was going to put it back once Mama got better. I didn’t think Mr. Brewer or Mr. Fletcher would miss a few shillings. Not right away, Especially since Mr. Brewer is never there.”
She was wrong about Drake, but she was right about Brewer.
Richard had lectured about working when no one was there, about hiring children because they didn’t ask questions. He’d been more concerned about danger from outside forces. This incident proved there were threats as dangerous from within. Threats Amelia could have seen if she’d been present. Not to watch her tenants’ children—to care for them.
She couldn’t do that from Quebec, or even France. She couldn’t keep relying on Drake to do it. He was never in one place for long, and these families weren’t his responsibility.
They were hers, and she couldn’t help them while continuing to keep secrets. Richard had been right.
“I’ll take care of it this time.” She helped Florence to her feet. “But it can never happen again.”
Florence nodded like her head was loose at her neck.
“And you are going to come tell me if your family needs help with anything else while we see about getting your mother well.” She led the girl back to the house where Lillian and Thea were waiting. The baby reached for Florence, but Amelia intervened to take her. The boys had gone to chase the only hen in the barnyard.
“Florence, this is Miss Graves. She has been my teacher for a very long time, and my friend for almost as long.” Amelia couldn’t meet Lillian’s gaze. Tears had been too close to the surface for days. Now that she’d accepted the future she’d thought she wanted, grief settled over her like a rain cloud. “She is going to ask you some questions about your lessons, and I want you to pay close attention as you answer.”
Lillian tucked the young girl’s hand in her arm and headed for the pitiful garden, talking as they walked. Amelia had learned many lessons the same way, in a very different home.
“Our first pupil, I suppose?” Thea asked.
“I hope so.” Amelia dashed tears away with her free hand. The baby warmed the other. Someone else’s child. She would forever be holding someone else’s children. Because she couldn’t have Richard’s.
“Are you well?” Thea put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve not been yourself since London.”
“I’m—” Amelia stopped the lie before it passed her lips. This plan—her life—only worked if she was honest, no matter how much she lost. No more hiding in the shadows. “Thea, I have done something incredibly daft.”
It all poured out of her like a barrel with the tap left open. Her father’s request, her mother’s preference of Ethan, Fiona Allen, the limericks…everything but the library and that evening on the terrace. She’d keep those dregs for herself.
“Richard can’t cry off first, Amelia,” Thea said. “It will ruin your character and, regardless of how you feel about theton, you need that as an asset. You have to do it first.”
“You think he’s sitting in Londonwaitingfor me to…”Lie. Because it would be the worst sort of lie to say she didn’t wish to marry him.
“We don’t even know if he’s in London. Oliver went to town to find him and warm his bloody feet.” Her last words were such an overblown impersonation that Amelia laughed and actually meant it.
“It’s a shame, though,” Thea said. “I think you two are perfectly matched. And I was looking forward to having a sister I like.”
Amelia felt the same, but she was too busy not crying to agree. “Tell me.” The sun was blinding. “How do I break my engagement?”
*
“He was ina goddamn brothel, Oliver.”
Richard opened his eyes slowly, as much for fear of being pounced on as that blinking made his head hurt.
“He’s been drunk for days,” Fletcher bellowed.
