Page 24 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“I heard you and your friend talking about us all being here. Harry expressed his doubts. You were adamant someone here knows something about your past and who your mother is,” she said.
It was the unspoken truth. It was the thing everyone gathered at the Amhurst estate knew, but was unwilling to speak of. Was he the product of the aristocracy, or the son of a maid or other servant? The earl sighed.
“Will we discover it, Lady Amelia?” he asked, and Amelia shrugged.
“I don’t know. Do you think you will?” she asked.
As intriguing as the matter was, it was not one she found particularly concerning. Who the earl’s mother was made no difference to her. She was not the sort of woman to delight in scandal, though she could understand why it would matter to Nicholas. To know one’s lineage was important, and while she herself did not believe she had anything to contribute to the solving of the mystery, she was willing to help in any way she could.
“I hope so, yes. But I fear it’s a long time ago now. If someone did want to tell me, I think they’d already have done so. That’s why I invited them all here; to discover something, however insignificant, that might lead me to the truth,” he said.
“And what of your first impressions?” she asked, for it seemed he had been forced to spend most of the evening talking to Constance Kent and had hardly had the opportunity to discover anything more than he knew already.
“Nothing much. Though I’ve been glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Amelia,” he said, smiling, with just the hint of embarrassment in his expression.
Amelia blushed. She felt the same way about him, and she was sorry for having eavesdropped on him, even as the fact of her having done so had brought them closer.
“As am I,” she said, her heart skipping a beat as he sat down on the arm of the chair she was occupying.
He slid his arm over the back, and she looked up at him, smiling, as he gazed back down at her with a curious look on his face.
“Do you think I’m a bastard?” he asked.
Amelia almost choked on her brandy, spluttering, even as he laughed.
“I…no…I mean…well, it’s a horrible term. It’s not your fault what your father did or didn’t do. Lots of men in his position have affairs. Half the ton are…as you say. Think of all those Fitzs…Fitz this and Fitz that. They’ve all got strange parentage. I’ve never understood why one’s lineage should be used as an insult. Besides, even if you are, it doesn’t matter, does it? The title’s yours,” she replied.
Amelia had been entirely taken aback by his familiarity, even as the question was an entirely legitimate one. She now realized it was the reason for the gathering. Discovering Nicholas’ true lineage was obviously a matter of great importance to him. Even if it didn’t matter to Amelia or those invited to the party, it mattered to him.
“It is, but there’s a mystery there, too. Don’t you think? I want to know the truth, and not knowing it frustrates me. I’m a rich man, I can have whatever I want, but I can’t have this without someone telling me the truth,” he said.
There was a sense of frustration in his voice, and Amelia wanted to do something to help.
“I’m sure we can discover the truth. We’re stuck here for a while, aren’t we? If someone knows, they can be persuaded to divulge the truth, don’t you think?” she said, looking up at him with what she hoped was a reassuring look on her face.
“Are you offering to help me, Lady Amelia?” he asked, and Amelia smiled.
She had not meant to do so. She did not care who his mother was. But the thought intrigued her. She wanted to help him, and it would be fun to think of herself as doing so in the coming days.
“I suppose I am,” she said, holding his gaze as he smiled back at her.
He took another sip of brandy, and she did the same. It felt delightfully improper to be alone with him, and Amelia could only imagine what her mother would say if she knew about it. She would be angry, reminding Amelia of the need to avoid scandal, even as Amelia was now reminded of the locket around her neck. Rupert was always with her, even in this most intimate of settings.
“Then I’m grateful to you,” he said, edging a little closer to her, his arm still across the top of the chair.
But before she could allow him any closer, there was one question she wanted to know the answer to, and taking another sip of brandy, she did so.
“What about Constance Kent?” she asked.
Nicholas looked suddenly uncomfortable, drawing back a little with a sigh.
“Don’t worry about her. She likes to think there’s something between us. But there really isn’t. I don’t...well, you’ve seen what she’s like. She’s always been a disagreeable sort. But we’ve known one another for a long time. Our whole lives, in fact. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of her, and I fear I need her to solve this mystery,” he replied.
“And does that mean she’ll continue to have a hold over you?” Amelia asked.
She was no longer shy about voicing her opinions. They had moved to a new level of intimacy, removed from the formality of the drawing room, with its social graces and expectations. Here, having already crossed a line of intimacy, Amelia felt emboldened to ask those questions foremost on her mind.
“She doesn’t have a hold on me, but I admit, she can be overbearing,” he said.
