Amelia couldn’t say the same. She wouldn’t mind if she spent her entire life never finding out the Masked Rogue’s identity. Or better yet, if she did, she wouldn’t mind spending her entire life bringing him to ruin.
After a moment of silence, Nadine began again, “Though, if he truly is an Earl as rumors suggest, I wouldn’t object to the title of a countess…”
Amelia suddenly felt a desperate urge to leave the room. Her hair was already arranged in a modest chignon, with a few loose strands framing her face, leaving only her shoes to be put on. She wanted to escape as soon as she was finished. Having to listen to the praises of that man made her feel sick to her core.
Though, she supposed it would be unfair of her to pretend as if she did not wish for marriage too. At one-and-twenty, her prospects were diminishing. Beyond this Season, many would consider her past the prime age for marriage, practically a spinster. She couldn't allow that label to befall her. Securing a suitor at this ball was paramount—it might be her final opportunity.
If she didn’t find a suitor, she would never be married. She’d never receive her inheritance and would be forced to remain as her uncle’s ward in this unpleasant place where she was treated so horribly.
But most importantly, she wouldn’t be able to save her sister.
After slipping into her shoes, Amelia got to her feet and promptly made her way to the door. She was ignored, to her relief. Sometimes she preferred being invisible to enduring her aunt’s malice and her cousin’s bitterness.
The moment she was out the door, Amelia released a long, quiet breath. She couldn’t let her aunt and cousin’s words get her down. Throughout the entire Season, they had done nothing but step on her toes and push her aside. Amelia understood her aunt wanting to put her daughter first, but they’d made this Season nothing but a failure for her—to be used as a pedestal for Nadine’s future.
Well, she couldn’t allow it to end on a failure.
“My lady?”
Amelia jolted at the soft voice, startled by the sudden appearance of the maid by her side. She stepped away from the door so that those inside could not hear when she asked, “What is it?”
“This came for you a short while ago.” The maid held out a folded piece of paper.
Amelia’s heart began to pound against her chest. “From whom?”
“The Countess of Talley, my lady.”
Amelia snatched the paper from the maid’s hands, muttering a thank-you under her breath as she hurriedly unfolded it. The words written within were simple and to the point but they sent Amelia’s heart sprawling.
She hadn’t heard from her sister in months and from the state of her writing, it seemed her sister had hastily penned the letter. It stated that Amelia could come to visit her in Brighton next month since the Earl of Talley would be out of Brighton for a week. The thought of seeing her again had Amelia’s heart weak with relief. Not receiving any word from her had slowly sent Amelia down a spiral of worry, wondering with each passing day if something bad had happened.
“Where is my uncle?” Amelia quickly asked the maid, her voice breathy with urgency.
“He is in his study, my—”
She didn’t wait for the maid to finish. She picked up her skirts and swiveled on her heels, racing down the narrow hallway. Amelia nearly twisted her ankle twice as she rushed down the staircase and she mentally chided her clumsiness but didn’t stop. Her heart raced with excitement, a controlled smile barely gracing her features.
Because of it, she didn’t think twice about bursting into her uncle’s study without knocking.
Thankfully, he was without company, but the look he gave her upon her entrance made her realize the mistake she’d made.
“Forgive me, Uncle,” she panted. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
Harold Egerton, the Viscount of Hendale, plopped his quill pen back into the inkpot and leaned back in his chair with a grunt. Amelia was once more struck by how much he resembled her late father—his brother. They had been close in age but her father had been the one to inherit the Earldom. And as the younger son, Harold had opted to marry the daughter of the late Viscount of Hendale.
Ever since she began to live here, Amelia wondered if their difference in status was what caused such animosity toward her. After all, she was the daughter of the late Earl of Marlowe and her sister had become the Countess of Talley. Even though she was unmarried and without a title, her father had left her a sizable inheritance and she already had access to her dowry.
But if that was what caused her aunt and cousin’s disdain of her, Amelia couldn’t say if the same applied to Harold. The truth was, she didn’t know what he thought of her. She’d met him only once before her father passed and when she came to live with them, he’d been neither cold nor warm. He took care of her in all the ways that mattered, but nothing more. He allowed her to attend events during the Season, as it was her duty to marry, but Amelia couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in his presence for more than a few minutes.
“What do you want, Amelia?” he asked, ignoring her earlier words.
Despite his lacking tone, Amelia’s excitement did not waver. She approached his desk and laid the letter open for him to see. He read it quickly, then looked back up at her. “State your point, girl.”
She hated when he called her that but she’d never voice it. “Dorothy has extended an invitation for me to visit her,” she explained in between breaths, even though it was made rather clear in the letter. “I’ve come to ask that arrangements be made—”
“That will not be happening. Now leave me be.” And just like that, he resumed his task, returning to his quill and paper.
Amelia stared at him, unwilling to understand his words right away. “I have not seen my sister in three years, Uncle,” she tried again. “You know her husband makes it difficult for her to receive my letters, and even more difficult for her to send them. And Brighton is not that far. If I could have someone take me there and back—”
