Page 86 of His Spirited Lady
“Quieter. Thinner.” Oliver helped him stand. “She and Thea came back from London set on starting a girls’ school and, of course, they already have a board of trustees, most of their funding, and a building site. We’re going to be cutting a lot of timber.” He went to the door and looked back, waiting.
Richard had a choice. He closed his eyes and heard his sister’s voice.
Allez, idiot.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amelia entered thefront door in her work clothes, shrugging the left brace back onto her shoulder because her hands were full. “Simms, is Father in the library?”
The old butler’s gaze swept from her hat to her work boots, his brows climbing higher with each item of clothing. “Yes, my lady. He and your mother are meeting with Mr. Warren. If you would like, I can fetch Rose.”
“No, thank you.” There was no reason to delay and risk losing her nerve. “If you would get the door, please.”
Simms paused, his hand on the knob, as though he might deny her entrance. “Are you certain? I heard your cousin say something of Mr. Ferrand. They may be deciding—”
“They won’t decide anything without me involved.” Amelia’s heart climbed to her throat. If Simms didn’t open the door, she’d scream as she had as a child. “Let me in, Simms.”
All three members of her family stopped talking as she entered; all of them turned. Amelia focused on Jasper’s bemused smile. “Have you found him? Is he well?”Is he coming home?
“Yes, and yes.” His lips quirked. “Are you drinking from worry or did you anticipate celebrating?”
Amelia blinked, breathed, relaxed. The ledger slipped, tipping toward the floor.
Drat. This was already a disaster.
Gathering the poise she’d learned from hours with Lillian and from watching Octavia at the Circle, Amelia placed the whiskey on a table and laid the ledger next to it. Then she removed her hat, smoothed her hair, and claimed the nearest chair, sitting as straight and carefully as if she were in a ball gown.
“Is that skirt split?” Mother’s eyebrows had climbed almost to her hairline, carrying her voice with them.
Of all the things to worry over right now.Amelia patted her mother’s hand. “It is. I’ll explain why in a minute.” She looked to Father, who was behind his desk. His cheeks were mottled, which was never a good sign. “Papa?”
“The duke and his man, Mr. Fletcher, found Richard in London. He’s been there since you left, chilling his feet, I suppose.”
She wouldn’t have her father think ill of Richard. This wasn’t his fault—at least not all of it. “Richard wouldn’t lie, Father. If he said he was doing business, he did it.”
“That faith is admirable, dear girl, but I cannot ignore that he has been encamped at Rushford’s townhouse while you have worried yourself sick. That’s not suitable behavior for a husband.”
“What would happen if you arrived in Quebec and he hared off in such a fashion?” Mother put her hand over her chest, her favorite linen handkerchief between her fingers. The lavender lace exactly matched her dress. “You’d be without connection in a strange city. I shudder to think.’
Now or never.“I’m not going to Quebec. I never was.” She couldn’t breathe for her heart pounding. “And I’m sure Richard has kept his word to me because we had an agreement which he has fulfilled.” She looked toward her father’s desk, but focused on the sunlight over her shoulder. “I asked him to act as my fiancé so I didn’t have to marry Ethan Raymond—or any man for that matter.”
“Amelia!” Mother shrieked. “How could you possibly…” Her words were lost in tears and then in her handkerchief.
“Explain yourself, Amelia Christine,” Father said. He didn’t shout. He never had to.
With her hands and knees shaking, Amelia carried her ledgers and a bottle of aged spirits to her father’s desk as though they were an altar offering. “I’m Eamon Brewer, Papa.”
“The devil you say,” he harrumphed. “If this is a ploy—”
“Iam,” Amelia said, using the same tone he had earlier. The one she’d rehearsed for hours, which she’d used in Octavia’s ballroom. “I brew the best whiskey in Norfolk, using Thetford wheat and fruits and flavors from our tenants’ farms and village markets.” Jasper’s open curiosity made it easier to continue. “I’ve hired their oldest children and pay them a living wage to help their families. And I’ve just sold my first batch of aged whiskey in London. It was so well received I’ll have trouble keeping up with orders.”
Mother was weeping. Father was staring like she had two heads. Amelia looked to her cousin. “Tell them. Please.”
Jasper uncorked the bottle and poured a shot into Father’s glass and then into his. “I’ve had it, Augustus. Ferrand brought a case for my party.”
He sipped as though it was cough syrup. The first time. The second sip was more generous. “Richard helped you do this, then?”
Oh, for goodness sake.“This went into barrels two years ago, Father. He wasn’t here to do anything.”And I didn’t let him help when hewashere.
