Page 32 of A Delicate Deception
He bowed and left her. Only after he had turned away did she allow her cheeks to heat.
Sydney hardly even tasted the unprecedentedly edible meal the cook had sent up as a condition of her truce with Lex. He was quite beyond making conversation with his dinner companions. He sat in between the vicar’s wife and Georgiana Russell, both of whom seemed determined not to let him get a word in edgewise, so there was no need for his contributions anyway. He was able to sit silently and regard Amelia Allenby across the table. He could barely detect a trace of the woman he had known on their walks—she was composed, silent except for the occasional platitude or commonplace, and bland. Throughout the meal, it was as if she had donned an impenetrable mask, through which he couldn’t see her.
When she walked into Pelham Hall for the first time the previous week, she had been equally distant, equally cold. That was what had tipped him off that she was putting on some kind of show; he knew the real Amelia Allenby, and she was light and fun and slightly silly. He had assumed these were the airs and graces of a woman who didn’t wish to be bothered in acknowledging their connection. But what if this was just how she was in company? She had told him outright that she had difficulty around people—what if that coldness were the result? She had become angry when she saw him that first time on what she regarded as her path. She asked him to shield her from the vicar’s wife, who was present at this very dinner party.
What if what he was seeing was plain self-defense? What if she developed this impassive mask as a sort of camouflage, so she would blend in with her surroundings the way a moth resembled tree bark?
What if, when she had walked into Pelham Hall that first time, he had greeted her as a friend, a person he cared for, a person he respected and admired? He tried to imagine telling his mother—he was conscious that perhaps at his age he ought to have a moral arbiter other than his mother, but there were few people whose opinion he regarded more than he did hers—what had happened. He had made a friend, and then at the first sign of trouble, abandoned her. His face heated with shame.
This, come to think, was exactly what he had done with Lex. He knew Lex was injured in the fire, but when Lex failed to respond personally to his letters, Sydney assumed Lex wanted nothing further to do with him.
His food—which, as the cook had promised, was not only edible but delicious—turned to ashes in his mouth.
With such a small party and no proper hostess, there was no sense in having the women withdraw first, so they all proceeded from the dining room to the hall together. He hung back so he could walk next to Amelia.
“Are you all right?” he asked, pitching his voice low enough that he would not be overheard. “Can I be of any assistance?”
“I beg your pardon?” Amelia’s voice was icy.
“I don’t want to presume, but—” He realized he had not planned what to say, and doubted whether there even was a delicate way to ask a person whether they were about to be overcome by a fit of nerves, if that was even what was happening. “You once said you wished to be a recluse, and I...” He cleared his throat. “I remember how distressed you were the first time we met, and all of that leads me to suppose—well, I suppose this is not easy for you.” He wasn’t sure whatthisconstituted. Dinner parties? Dukes? And he had no standing to ask. All he could do was offer his aid.
“Do I seem troubled?” she asked, her chin tipped up.
“Not at all,” he said honestly. “You’re the picture of elegance and composure. If I hadn’t known you otherwise, I’d think this was your natural state. But now I do know otherwise, and I ought to have figured it out before. I’m desperately sorry that I hurt you, Amelia. That isn’t why I pulled you aside, though. I thought you might want an excuse to leave early. Would you like to have a sudden sickness?” he offered.
That got him a faint smile, and he smiled in return until he realized he was smiling daftly upon her in a dark corner of the dining room, which surely she did not want. He mustered up some self-control.
“No thank you,” she said. “I’m well accustomed to enduring these gatherings.”
He watched her progress coolly out of the dining room, conscious that this conversation had been the best part of his day.
Chapter Fourteen
“I really could get used to meals that consist of actual food,” Lex said as he ate the shirred eggs and kippers the cook sent up for breakfast.
Sydney noticed that the eggs and the kippers were in silver dishes that hadn’t been on the table yesterday morning. Come to think, he wasn’t entirely certain where all the serving dishes from last night’s dinner had come from either. He was trying not to dwell on how much Lex was spending on this house, its restoration, and its servants. First, Sydney in general considered paying laborers, craftsmen, and tradesmen to be a fine use of money. Second, Sydney was all too glad to think of this house as Leontine’s rather than his own and if Lex wanted to spend money on the child’s property, then that was fine. Still, he couldn’t let this continue on without saying something.
“What’s going to happen to all this”—he sought for a polite way to sayostentation, but couldn’t come up with anything—“all these items you’ve purchased when we all leave?” he asked.
Lex’s answer consisted of a triangle of toast, launched in Sydney’s direction.
“All I meant was that she’s not your niece and you’re not under any duty to provide for her,” Sydney said, catching the toast in midair and laying it on his plate.
“You and your duty,” Lex said, his mouth full, “can both kiss my arse. I’m perfectly aware I have no duty to look after her, but we both know that if Andrew and Penny were alive, they would raise the child as a daughter. I have no other nieces or nephews, I like the brat, and she likes me. I realize that I have no legal claim to her so if you mean to take me to court for guardianship—”
“I intend nothing of the sort,” Sydney said. “But I do need to get back to work. We can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“Maybeyoucan’t,” Lex said. “The rest of us can. Hedgehogs and French urchins and dukes don’t have jobs waiting for them in Birmingham.”
“Manchester,” Sydney corrected. “My point is that if you intend to requisition this house to raise our niece, we ought to at least discuss it.”
“Requisition, indeed. You make it sound desperately boring. I’ve stolen your house out from under your feet, which is a very dashing thing to do and you ought to give me credit.”
Sydney laughed despite himself. “Good God, you’re welcome to it. You know how I feel about this place.”
Lex put down his fork. “No, Sydney, I do not.”
“I inherited it because my brother died.”
