Page 59 of The Lyon Whisperer
“Yes?” Her voice had a breathless quality.
“It is, of course, your prerogative if you wish to sleep in your own bedchamber. However, to be clear, you are more than welcome to stay in mine on the occasion we…share a bed.” He studied her to gauge her reaction.
“Thank you.” She forked up a bite of her eggs.
He resumed reading his paper—or tried to. A vague feeling of annoyance pricked him.
He prided himself on his astute skill at reading people. But when it came to Amelia, his ability failed him at least half the time. Like now. What the devil did she mean bythank you?
Not that he intended to ask her. Doing so might give the impression her disappearance into her chamber last night bothered him, when, in actuality, his concern was solely for her welfare.
“Did you handle the RSVP’s we discussed?”
“I did, yesterday.”
“Excellent. The first affair we will attend as a married couple will be held this coming Saturday.”
She nodded once. “Lord and Lady Collier’s fête.”
“Precisely. You should be cognizant the details of our wedding will be on everyone’s lips. Thetonthrives on gossip and scandal.”
“I’m aware. I was not born yesterday, sir.”
Her affront amused him. “We should get our stories straight.”
She slanted him a glance. “Ourstories?”
“People will want to know how we came to be married in such a short amount of time.”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
“I’ve come up with a reason that shouldn’t create much stir, and might even stop any talk. We shall let it be known your mother and my aunt were close friends.”
Her violet eyes opened wide. “And were they?”
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “Father doesn’t make a habit of discussing her, not with me, nor anyone as far as I know.”
“I see. In answer to your question, yes. Apparently they had a close friendship prior to either of them marrying. I am not privy to further details.”
“I see. Do you mind reminding of her given name? Perhaps my mother mentions her in her journals?”
“Lady Francine Culver is her name.”
“Lady Francine,” she said as if committing the name to memory. “I shall look forward to asking her about my mother.” A flush of excitement tinged her cheeks. “But do go on.”
“Thank you. We shall also put it about that we met when I returned from the peninsula roughly a year ago, after which your father and my uncle began contract negotiations about our union. When an agreement was reached, we proceeded with the marriage.”
She sighed. “Very well.”
“You do not approve?”
“You make it sound like a business transaction.” She gave a graceful one-shoulder shrug. “I suppose it’s as good a tale as any and certainly sounds better than the truth.”
He hesitated, uncertain if he wanted to open Pandora’s box. “And what is it you see as the truth, Amelia?”
“That you approached my father wishing to court me for reasons not entirely clear to me, and he approved your courtship with the caveat that we marry immediately because…” She broke off.
