Page 153 of The Lyon Whisperer
He flicked a glance at Chase. “Perhaps my daughter and I should speak alone, first.”
From his stance behind her, Chase’s hands fell from her shoulders, as if he prepared to depart his own den.
Amelia found her tongue. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I prefer he stay. He is my husband now and any confidence you share with me you may share with him.”
Her father frowned, and for a moment she thought he would argue. Finally he nodded.
“Please,” she said, gesturing toward the sofa and armchairs near the grate.
The three took their seats, with Amelia and Chase sitting beside one another on the sofa, and her father settling in a sturdy armchair.
He leaned his elbows on his thighs and steepled his fingers before him. “Where to begin?” he murmured as if to himself. “I suppose, our courtship is as good a place as any to start.
“Your mother was…” He shook his head. “A force. A whirlwind. Beautiful, untamable. Reckless, some said, and, in retrospect, I agree.”
“Reckless, how?” Amelia asked.
He extended one hand toward her in a staying gesture. “I will get to that.”
“Very well.”
“She captivated people, put them under her spell. Her parents were too lenient by half. Her friends all danced to her tune. And men…” He huffed out a laugh. “We were putty in her hands. The moment I met her, I knew she was the woman I would marry. Unfortunately, I was not alone in that regard.”
Amelia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Many men asked her father’s permission to court her that season. In the end, Leticia chose. Two of us topped the list, myself and Lord Selbie, and she let us know she had not made up her mind.”
“Dear heaven,” she murmured. “Lord Selbie?”
“She treated the whole thing like a game, as if she enjoyed having the two of us fighting for her favor. Naturally he and I grew to dislike each other intensely.”
Chase covered her hand with one of his, a gesture for which she was profoundly grateful. “If there was a problem between Selbie and yourself, you should have mentioned it before Amelia’s dinner party.”
Her father frowned. “It’s not that simple. We have an agreement of sorts. We agree to detest each other, avoid each other whenever possible, and maintain absolute secrecy about what transpired.”
“What…transpired?” Amelia swallowed. For the first time she wondered if her father’s disinclination to speak about her mother might have less to do with grief than shielding her from something.
But, no. That couldn’t be.
“I told her I’d had enough, that I meant to bow out.”
“Oh.” She glanced toward Chase, then back to her father. “No. It can’t be.”
A nostalgic smile curved her father’s mouth. “No, it can’t. I was bluffing. Still, with the jig up, she informed me she had made her choice and would marry me.”
Amelia released the breath she hadn’t realized she held.
“But her father, the wily bastard, made a secret pact with Selbie.”
“But why would he do that?” Amelia asked, horrified on her parents’ behalf.
“I really can’t say. I suspect, based upon events that came later, Selbie had information the earl didn’t want getting out.”
Amelia frowned. “What sort?”
Her father looked distinctly uneasy. “Something of a personal nature, I’d guess.” He glanced at Chase as if for guidance.
Chase cleared his throat and squeezed her hand. “Why don’t we let your father get on with his tale?”
