Page 60 of The Lyon Whisperer
He arched one brow, more curious than she could possibly know. “Because?”
“Because I managed to evade the two previous offers of marriage he approved.”
“I’m aware. I am not, however, versed in the details. How, exactly, did you accomplish that?”
“I don’t see why any of this—”
“Humor me.” He used his most authoritative tone, the one that had had many a soldier quaking in his boots.
Amelia did not appear the least bit cowed. Indeed, her violet eyes flashed with annoyance.
She stayed silent so long he wondered if she meant to defy him.
He’d begun pondering what, if anything, he should do about it when she spoke.
“The two courtships both began at the start of the season. Two different seasons, mind you. They progressed in the usual manner. Calls on me at home. Rides in the park. Flowers.”
It occurred to him he had done none of those things for his bride.
“…and then, just before either of them submitted their formal offers to my father, I…” She licked her lush lips as if to stop herself from proceeding.
He forced himself to ignore the distraction. “Go on.”
“Suffice it to say I confronted them on certain issues, and they took offense. They ended the courtships, not I. My father was not pleased.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “I believe that is enough discussion on the subject.”
He disagreed and considered pressing her for more. In the end he decided to settle for names. “Fine. But I would know the identity of the two men.”
She lifted her chin and met his eyes with a defiant stare. “Lord Taylor and Lord Hamilton.”
He nodded, filing the names away. “Well, then. Back to the matter at hand. I have devised a sort of safety net for you. My aunt and uncle will attend the Colliers’ ball. Aunt Francine has promised to keep watch over you. I suggest you enlist those of your friends who happen to have received invitations to act as additional buffers.”
“And you, sir? Where will you be?”
“I will be busy during much of the evening. Parliament is back in session, and I wish to put out feelers among certain members of the nobility to see where they stand on an issue of particular import to me.”
She eyed him with evident interest. “What issue might that be, sir? Perhaps I could offer some assistance.”
“I can’t see how.”
“Of course. Silly of me.” She resumed eating, her face devoid of expression.
Ah ha.Noexpression.That was a tell she could not hide. If he gauged correctly, his dismissal of her offer bothered her more than she let on.
It would not hurt to share his interest with her, he decided.
“A year ago when I came home from the war, I could not help noting that many of our soldiers returned from battle changed. Damaged, if you will, by their experiences.”
She paused in the act of slicing her sausage. Her gaze sharpened with evident concern. “How so?”
“It is as if some fundamental piece of them—some of them, not all—have not returned at all. I notice a vacant look. A particular malaise.”
“How terrible.” She put down her cutlery, fully engaged now.
“Yes. I have heard of men who find it difficult, if not impossible, to return to their prewar employment. As a result their families suffer as well.”
“What is it you hope to accomplish for them?”
He propped his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist. Discussing the issue with her was surprisingly enjoyable.
