Page 12 of The Lyon Whisperer
Amelia licked her lips and considered her feelings toward Lord Culver. She did not know the man, but, in all honesty, she couldn’t say he didn’t inspire a certain breathless awareness. She’d never experienced anything like it.
That did not mean she wished to marry the man.
“Thank Heaven your source alerted us to her former suitors’ nefarious ways in time, Lady Harriet. Do you think she can be persuaded to investigate Amelia’s current suitor’s background?” Charlotte asked.
“Assuming he’s anything like them, can Amelia not employ the tactics she used to rid herself of those miscreants?” Georgie sent Amelia an encouraging smile.
Dismay had Amelia wringing her hands, until she noted the gesture and made herself cease. “The thing is, I fear Papa won’t be dissuaded this time, regardless of what Lady Harriet’s source uncovers.”
Margaret’s dark brows puckered with concern. “Why do you say that, dear?”
“Because he informed me the marriage will take place in a fortnight.”
A collective gasp sounded.
Lady Harriet patted the air in a silent request for order. “As it happens, Mrs. Dove-Lyon has already spoken on the subject of Amelia’s soon-to-be betrothed. Apparently…” She glanced around the room, a bemused expression on her face. “He has nothing in particular to disqualify him. More to the point, he has a stellar reputation to recommend him.”
Collectiveoohsandaahssounded.
“I don’t understand. How on earth can she know whether or not he’s a worthy husband, Lady Harriet? I haven’t yet given you his name.”
Lady Harriet smoothed her coiffured head of light-brown hair laced with silver and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “The missive came in shortly after your note arrived. I’m only relating what she said, not the mystery of how she comes by her information.”
“I see,” Amelia said. An odd burst of relief shot through her. Whether it owed to Lord Culver having received the gaming hell patroness’s stamp of approval, or because he had not merited a bad report added up to the same thing. She had no reason to deny him.
She should be more anxious than ever, not pleased. She decided to keep her reaction to herself.
“Who is this man?” Georgina asked, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “Have you at least met him, Amelia?”
Amelia nodded once. She could see his dark eyes, fixed on her, as if he stood before her now. “His name is Lord Chase Culver. He’s heir to his uncle, Lord Harry Culver, Viscount of Everston, and also the recently named Baron of Sidford.” She swallowed. “He’s also known as the ‘Iron Lion of Barrosa.’”
Six sets of rounded eyes blinked in her direction.
Lady Georgina spoke up first. “I’ve heard of him. My,ah…” she cleared her throat and straightened her spectacles for no discernible reason, “friendmentioned him to me in one of his letters, as I recall. He claims Lord Culver is a military mastermind, and hard as steel.”
Charlotte practically bounced on the couch. “I’ve heard talk of him, as well, at a garden tea my aunt hosted. She and her friends say he’s handsome as Lucifer.”
Margaret nodded her agreement. “We saw him once, Harriet, in the park, riding a large black stallion that suited him to a tee. He made quite an impression on the ladies promenading, as I recall. He was the recipient of many stares, though, it did not seem to signify to him.”
“Wait, now I remember something my brother told me. He was once engaged, or nearly so, and there was some sort of scandal,” Georgina said, brows furrowed in concentration. “Yes, yes, that’s right. My brother rather liked Lord Culver—Mr. Culver, then—and felt sorry for what happened to him.”
“What exactly was it that happened?” Nancy asked before Amelia could.
“He was a young man, barely out of Oxford, of an age with my brother, Stephen. He had not yet purchased his officer’s commission. He was engaged, or nearly so, to—oh, I can’t recall her name—only that she was the banker’s daughter. And then, one day, she surprised everyone by turning up married to Lord Gavin Huxley. The next thing anyone knew, Culver had joined the army and departed London.”
“That would be Lady Millicent Huxley, Countess of Tully now,” Lady Harriet said.
“I see,” Amelia said. “One can hardly hold a broken almost-engagement against the man.” Especially as she’d had two of those herself. “I have never met Lady Tully.”
“Mm. Lucky you,” Lady Georgina put in under her breath.
“Well, dear,” Lady Harriet said to Amelia. “What isyourimpression of the man?”
She eyed each of her friends in turn. “I’m not sure. Heishandsome, and hedoeshave an undeniable presence. But that is not to say I have any notion of what sort of husband he might make.” Although he did have one recommendation which she trusted implicitly. “There is one thing. Roddy likes him immensely.”
“Roddy?” Margaret asked.
Amelia smiled. “The runt of the recent litter of puppies Georgina and I rescued from the stews several weeks ago.”
