Page 21 of The Lyon Whisperer
“Yes. We shall see where things stand at the end of six months.” He nodded.
She had no notion what he meant by that, nor did unraveling the riddle hold any further appeal. “As you say.” She turned toward the door, then paused before crossing the threshold. She glanced back at the earl. “Father, perhaps you will pay us a visit some time, when your schedule permits.”
“I’d like that,” he said, and by his expression, he seemed to mean it. She held the thought to her and headed outside to start her new life.
Amelia nodded tothe man seated on the box of Lord Culver’s black-lacquered carriage.
He tipped an imaginary hat to her, then faced forward. He sat ramrod straight and gripped the reins in one hand. His other hand appeared to be missing. She wondered if he’d lost it in combat. He had the look of a soldier.
She was glad her husband had seen fit to hire the man. She thought of the too-numerous men she saw hanging about on the streets when traveling to market and on her recent venture into the stews. Unkempt, missing limbs, many with a look of desolation in their eyes, as if they had gazed on unspeakable things.
Chase shifted to the side, making room for her to climb the step into the waiting carriage.
“What is your name, sir?” she called to the man.
He glanced down at her, his brows raised in uncertainty.
She smiled up at him.
“My name is Reagan, milady.”
“Thank you for conveying us, sir.”
A broad smile covered his face.
Chase stepped forward, cupping her elbow in his large hand. He guided her forward and helped her into the carriage before angling his broad frame to pass through the opening himself.
Soon the carriage gave a little jerk as the wheels bit into the graveled courtyard.
They were off for Wimbledon, for Warren House.
They. She and her husband.
Though she had spent little time with him, she had already concluded he did not bother with a lot of meaningless chatter, like so many men of theton. His silence, combined with the keen intellect she sensed behind his dark eyes, gave him an air of mystery.
She never could resist a mystery, no matter how hard her father had tried to dissuade her from the tendency. “Curiosity killed the cat, Amelia,” he loved to say. Good thing she was no longer his problem to solve, thanks to him foisting her off on a virtual stranger.
“Lord Culver, tell me a bit about yourself. All I know, I’m afraid, is that you are a military legend.”
He arched one thick, black brow. “A legend? You must have me confused with someone else.”
She slanted him a dubious glance. “Come now. The Iron Lion of Barrosa? Is that not your moniker?”
Pressed back into the cushions, his long legs extended as far as they could in the confined space, he gave a negligent, one shoulder shrug. “Some have called me that. I can’t speak to why, other than my regiment did play a key role in the victory we achieved there.”
“A regiment under your express command, for which the Crown rewarded you with a barony.”
He nodded once.
“That’s quite something, Lord Culver. As I understand, it rarely happens.” She expected him to expand on the subject.
He eyed her. “As we are man and wife, I would like for you to call me by my Christian name,Chase. And I shall call you by yours.Amelia.” He drew out her name as if testing out the word.
Hearing her name on his lips sent a funny shiver down her spine.
“Very well, Chase it is. That’s rather an unusual name. How did you come by it?”
His mouth twitched. “The usual way, I expect. My parents gave it to me.”
