Page 37 of The Lyon Whisperer
Chase would have to question the villagers himself. They tended to be a tight-lipped bunch to outsiders. When their lord came to visit, however, they bent over backwards in their quest to be helpful.
An idea came to him. How much more helpful might they be for their lady? He smiled in the darkness.
“You’re aware parliamentis back in session as of Monday?” Chase asked, his gaze moving briefly from the newspaper before him to the raven-haired woman seated beside him at the breakfast table.
Her head came up, and she paused in the act of forking up her eggs. “Yes, I suppose it is.” She resumed eating.
Thus far this morning she’d displayed a disinclination to converse.
He’d caught her stifling a yawn several times. He’d heard her moving about her chamber last night. The first time, he’d headed to her door. The second, he’d merely lifted his head from the pillow before dropping back into a fitful slumber. Evidently she, like he, had not slept well.
“I suppose parliament will keep you busy during the coming weeks. Do you intend to reside part of the week in your London townhome?”
He frowned and set his paper aside. “No, I do not. Why do you ask?”
She lowered her eyes. “I thought perhaps the reason you brought up the business was because…”
“Because I wanted to explain my coming absences?”
She smoothed her rosy lips over one another and shrugged. “It’s just that my father…” She shook her head. “I should not assume, my lord.”
“No, you should not.” He retrieved his paper and snapped it open. A stab of annoyance for her father pricked him. “As it happens, I did have a point to make. Along with the season comes the social whirl. You had a come out, did you not?”
“Of course,” she said, her tone announcing her instant umbrage.
Why would such a question bother her? Likely she had made yet another assumption about why he asked. She was ever thinking, his wife. Mayhap, overthinking.
He propped his elbow on the table and dropped his chin in his hand, studying her. “I’d like you to accept several invitations on our behalf. I’ll let you know which.”
Her violet eyes went wide. “I see.” She took a moment to consider. “I shall manage the household.”
He wondered where she was taking the conversation now. “Of course.”
“Father always saida proper wife must manage the household.”She mimicked her father, pitching her voice low. “As he never remarried, and based upon the households of many of my friends, I thought I should step up and, at the very least, help Father. Throw dinner parties, see to the upkeep, etc. But…” Abruptly she broke off, her pale cheeks growing pink. “Never mind.” She folded her hands in her lap and sent him a placid smile. “You will let me know which soirees would you like me to accept?”
He frowned. “But, what, Amelia?”
She shook her head and gave a self-conscious laugh.
“I insist.”
She swallowed. “I don’t want to alarm you, but father didn’t seem to think I could manage. Notproperly,” she added, stressing the last word. “He said I was too outspoken for a female, and he feared I’d be too”—she glanced around—“soft on the staff.”
He had a lot of respect for Fallsgate. The earl took his responsibility to the country, to his tenants, seriously. He displayed wisdom in his political decisions. However, Chase was swiftly coming to the conclusion the man had as much clue about raising children as his own parents had. “I am not alarmed.”
Dear God, were tears welling in her eyes?
He picked upThe Timesagain and buried his head in the pages, while reading nothing.
“I shall make a list for you of the parties I would like us to attend. Keep in mind, I hope to make political allies at these events. I’m not keen on socializing for the mere sake of it.”
She nodded with vigor but said nothing. Chase took that as a sign she had not yet reined in her tears.
She sniffled.
He bit back a curse and kept his gaze averted. “Amelia?”
“Yes?”
