Page 128 of The Ladies Least Likely
“Anth! Attend! She isdifferent.”
“Oh? She is not dainty, like a little porcelain figure you can move about?”
He frowned. “No, she’s quite dainty, very small.”
“Not blonde, then.”
“Hair as golden as ripe wheat under the sun.”
“Then her eyes are not blue.”
He shook his head. “Blue as cornflower. As a summer sky.”
“So her family is rich this time.”
“Not in the least, but?—”
“And her family doesn’t have high hopes for her, and aren’t holding out for a title, or at least a gentleman with a fortune, who doesn’t have to work for a living?”
Joseph looked down at his boots. “I could support a wife on what our parents left us. If we lived very modestly. In the country. And if I took in teaching, here and there.”
Amaranthe’s exasperation ebbed as she looked at him. She glanced toward the boys across the room, slowing down on the cake to enjoy their tea while talking earnestly to each other, and her heart turned over again. She and Joseph had felt nothing lacking in their childhood. Raised by the kindest of parents, they had never known excess, but there had always been enough.
She knew now that was because her parents had carefully conserved her father’s inheritance from his father the baronet,money he had been granted from the estate before it went to her uncle, Reuben’s father. That was the reason Reuben had felt comfortable stealing Amaranthe’s allowance from her when she came to live with him; he’d felt it was due him anyway.
Joseph had managed his way through university on his small allowance and had worked every day since to support himself. He’d never known, never would know, the kind of luxury and security that surrounded the great. He worked hard for everything he gained, and all he wanted was someone to share it and his life with.
Though the Delaval boys hadn’t known security, either, Amaranthe had to admit. Neither their name nor their great house had kept them from staring hunger in the face. Perhaps her brother could be forgiven his absent-mindedness. She hoped Malden Grey would turn up the forgiving sort.
“She’ll have to take you in the boots you stand in, do you get turned off here,” Amaranthe said in a quiet voice. “It will be hard to find another position if Mr. Grey doesn’t give you a character.”
Joseph looked stunned. “Has he talked of turning me off? I haven’t approached Susannah’s parents yet. They’re Quakers, and they live in Gloucestershire. I’d like to present myself in person and ask for her hand.”
“Is that what Susannah wants? Miss Pettigrew, I mean.”
Amaranthe shook off another twinge to her heart. Joseph hadn’t told her before now about the woman he’d decided to marry. He’d not even brought her to the house so Amaranthe could meet her. How had she managed to make herself so unavailable to her own brother—who lived with her—about a decision that would impact his entire life?
“I only asked her yesterday, and she said yes.” He leaned forward, placing a hand on the arm of her chair. Joseph wasn’t affectionate; their parents hadn’t been, either. Amaranthe still startled when anyone touched her.
Like the several times Malden Grey had taken her hand to help her in and out of the high carriage. The way his thigh brushed her skirts when the vehicle turned a sharp corner.
The way he’d taken her arm to escort her out of Mr. Karim’s bookshop. She still felt the imprint of his heat, as if he’d branded her.
She was being a wet goose, and none of this had to do with the current situation. She focused on what her brother was saying.
“—since I only decided last night, and I didn’t want to bring her to see you until I was certain. I…” He trailed off and patted the arm of the chair awkwardly, as if attempting to console her.
She stiffened. “You feared I’d disapprove?”
“Er, well, I shouldn’t have liked for you to grow attached to someone who meant to throw me over, like all the other times.” He gave her the crooked smile that never failed to melt her heart. “I can stand my own heart cast on a thorn bush, but not yours. I know you’ve steel in your backbone, old girl, but I wanted to have firm plans before I uproot you.”
Amaranthe fumbled for her handkerchief and had it in hand before his meaning dawned. “Uproot me?”
“Of course, you’ll make your home with us and show Susannah how to go on. And when the children come, we’ll need all hands on deck. Susannah wants a rather large brood.” For a moment he looked nonplussed, and Amaranthe took the opportunity to tamp down her irritation.
“I might decide to keep my own premises, you know.”
“Live alone? Without a companion or chaperone? Not to be thought of.”
