‘Presumably. Unless you can think of any other deadly enemies you’ve made.’
Amelia chuckled weakly. ‘Thank you, Sophie, that’s a great consolation. As a matter of fact, I can’t.’
The door opened and Marcus entered, bearing, as promised, a glass with some golden liquid in it. Amelia became conscious that she must be enormously dishevelled, though her skirts had been smoothed down over her shaking legs by one of her attendants. Rather than him.I’m a little hysterical, she thought.If Aunt Keswick were here, she’d throw a jug of water over me.
He crossed swiftly to her side and offered her the brandy. She shook her head, and then regretted it. He was dishevelled too, his hair disordered and his cravat a wreck, but he didn’t look any the worse for it. Not in her eyes, at any rate.
She tried to speak in a normal, conversational tone to him, and was uncomfortably aware that she did not succeed. ‘I am quite well, sir, and do not need brandy. But thank you! Did I say that before? I don’t think I did.’
‘There is no need to thank me. If all those ridiculous rumours weren’t swirling round about me, you’d never have had to undergo such an ordeal.’
‘So it was your fault all along,’ she said, closing her eyes again. ‘And there I was foolishly blaming the creature who gave me a good, hard push.’
The door opened once more –so much for peace and quiet– and Rafe entered. He smiled to see that she was speaking and more or less in her right mind. He was pale too, but his habitual self-possession had come to his aid. ‘I hate to interrupt this touching scene,’ he said, surveying them all with a comprehending eye, ‘but the carriage is ready; Charlie is waiting by it lest someone should attempt to steal it or sabotage the horses or anything of that dramatic nature, and if you feel well enough, Melia, I am of the strong opinion that we should go. I have had enough of this house, if you have not. I can carry you, for you should not walk.’
‘No,’ replied Marcus with extreme and rather thrilling decision, ‘I shall carry her. It is my right.’
And so Amelia was able to experience the highly agreeable sensation of the Major’s strong embrace once again. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, his arms under her thighs, and – was she not unwell and shaken, so that it might be excused? – her hand crept up and rested against his chest as he bore her out of the room. She could feel his heart beating strongly, though she feared her own was racing. He took her through the crowded entrance hall full of gaping strangers, down the steps and out to the carriage, where he set her down tenderly on the seat and stepped back. It was a large house; the way could easily have been longer and she would have made no objection.Next time I fall and he carries me, thought Amelia, still not quite herself,I shall make sure to do it at Blenheim, or Wyverne, or Buckingham House.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.
‘I did not speak,’ she replied with dignity, and closed her eyes again.
‘I will come and see how you do tomorrow.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Rafe said with a touch of impatience. ‘Go away now, man. Look to your own hurts. If you can walk without wincing for the next sennight, I will own myself surprised. But I expect we shall be seeing you disgustingly early tomorrow morning nonetheless.’
They did not speak much in the carriage. Rafe and Charlie sat in the backward-facing seats, and Amelia half-lay, half-sat uncomfortably with her head in Sophie’s lap. Marcus and Helena would make their own way home, she understood.
‘Some other guests realised you were pushed,’ Rafe said levelly. ‘I heard them speaking of it, and our host Sir Humphrey mentioned it to me with great concern. Otherwise, I might have hoped to pass it off as an accident…’
‘That’s right; I am so clumsy, it is widely known,’ Amelia said with some revival of her normal spirit.
‘Of course you are not. You might have feigned a sudden dizziness, or some such, if we alone knew what happened. But others than Sophie saw the hand that shoved you.’
‘I do not suppose that anyone could identify the culprit.’ This was Sophie, anger kindling in her voice now that the shock was passing off.
‘No, my love. But there were several of those so-called Friends behind us. It would be easy enough to put names to them. They will all fall under suspicion indiscriminately, I dare say.’
‘I have no interest in attempting to identify her, whoever she was. I certainly observed nothing, and I do not see what purpose it would serve. She has only to deny it, and who could prove anything against any one person amongst others?’ Amelia was trying hard to be brave, but she was still shaking.
‘You could have cracked your head and died of it,’ Rafe said, his voice controlled as ever but with powerful emotion underlying it. Charlie, otherwise speechless this long while, muttered in agreement. ‘Or broke your neck. It is attempted murder. Do not try to tell me that it is anything less. Only Thornfalcon’s quick reactions made sure you were not seriously hurt. We owe him a great debt, all of us.’
‘You’re right, Rafe, I could have died, or been seriously hurt, and so could he, Marcus, or any of us, or some innocent bystander we knocked down at the foot of the steps. An elderly person, a woman with child. And for what? A fantasy. A piece of foolish gossip.’
‘Hush now,’ Sophie said soothingly. ‘You need to rest. We can talk about all this tomorrow. One thing I know is that I would not care to be the person who did this, if Lord Thornfalcon found me out.’
20
Rafe insisted upon her taking something to help her sleep, and Amelia did not protest, suddenly bone-weary. She woke late the next morning, aching all over but very aware that she was whole and essentially undamaged, when someone who probably did not even know her to speak to had not intended that it should be so. She had a great appetite for breakfast, which Sophie fetched for her on a tray, and stayed to watch her eat. She brought Louis in for a while too, though he was sleeping, and Amelia held him, looking down at his perfect, serene little face and blinking away unexpected tears.
Thinking that she ought to get up, she found this wish firmly vetoed, and compromised upon the sofa in her chamber, and a dressing gown. She was drowsing there over a book a short while later when Sophie came back into the room rather abruptly and said, a crease between her brows, ‘You have a visitor. Not him…’ Amelia was apparently excessively easy to read. ‘I would have brought him straight up, and damn the proprieties. We have of course said that you are not at home to visitors – and at this hour of the morning, who but he would expect you to receive them? A great many bouquets have come… But Amelia, it is Lady Thornfalcon. Not his mother. The younger Lady Thornfalcon – Lavinia.’
‘She is here?’ She had heard the words, but to believe them was another matter.
‘Yes. She offers no explanation, as if it is perfectly normal to call upon a stranger – an unwell stranger – at eleven in the morning, but she is here.’
‘Please tell me she hasn’t brought her daughter with her,’ Amelia said with a feeble attempt at humour.
