“You’ve created a beautiful home here,” Ashbourne said, looking around the room like he actually cared. Maybe he did. She couldn’t tell anymore. “I understand you oversee the household yourself?”
“I do.” Amelia lifted her cup, buying time. Buying distance from thoughts that had no business haunting her whilst she entertained a perfectly respectable gentleman who had done nothing wrong except be perfectly respectable. “Though the staff make it rather easy.”
“Modest as well as capable.” His smile warmed. “Many widows in your position would have retreated entirely. Taken to their chambers and let the world carry on without them.”
Would they? She hadn’t had that luxury. Edward had expected perfection even from the grave—she knew him well enough to understand that. She’d acted in ways that her husband would have approved of, fearing that with the title, Tobias would inherit that very same judgment. He did not.
She set her cup down before the trembling became obvious.
“You’re kind, my lord. I merely do what’s required.”
“There’s the difference.” He leaned in. Not far—just enough to suggest earnestness without impropriety. He’d probablypractised that angle too. “You do what duty demands with grace. Not resentment. That’s rare.”
The conversation ground on. Pleasant observations. Careful compliments. He asked about Henry—seemed genuinely interested too, which she couldn’t fault him for. Mentioned his own grown children with obvious affection. Spoke of his estate in Surrey the way men do when they’re proud of something.
All appropriate. All empty.
She heard herself respond. Watched herself smile at the right moments, incline her head, make all the proper noises. While some other part of her—some wretched, traitorous part—wondered what would happen if she just stopped. If she stood up mid-sentence and said I can’t do this, I’m sorry, but I can’t sit here pretending my heart isn’t bleeding all over your mother’s very nice Aubusson rug.
But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Ladies didn’t do that sort of thing.
“Lady Amelia.” His voice changed. Gained weight. She knew what was coming—had known from the moment he’d asked for this audience. Still, knowing did nothing to prepare her. “Forgive my directness, but I find I must speak plainly.”
Her pulse kicked up. “Please do.”
He set his cup aside with the deliberate care of a man about to say something important. When he met her eyes, he lookedalmost... vulnerable. Which was worse, somehow. It would have been easier if he’d been cold about it.
“We haven’t known each other long. I’m aware your mourning is still fresh. That society would counsel patience.” He paused, and she felt the words gathering like a storm she couldn’t outrun. “But I’ve reached a point in my life where I know what I seek in a companion. Someone intelligent. Capable. Someone who understands duty whilst possessing warmth enough to make a house a home. Someone who’d be a proper mother to my children, a credit to the family name.”
Rain started pattering outside. Because of course it did. Because the universe had developed a sick sense of humour.
“You possess these qualities and more, Lady Amelia.” He shifted forward, hands clasped like a supplicant, though somehow he still looked assured. “And so I must ask—would you do me the very great honour of considering my suit? I don’t ask for an immediate answer. I know such decisions require thought. But I wanted you to know my admiration is sincere. My intentions honourable.”
There it was.
Security. Respectability. A father for Henry. Everything she’d been raised to want, packaged neatly and offered with genuine kindness.
Everything that wasn’t Tobias.
“Lord Ashbourne.” Steadier than she’d expected. Steadier than she deserved. “I’m deeply honoured. Truly. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and I’d never wish to seem ungrateful.”
She saw it click—the recognition that gratitude wasn’t acceptance, that appreciation could exist miles apart from desire.
“But I must ask for time to consider. My mourning is fresh, as you noted. Such a decision...” She trailed off. Couldn’t finish. How did one politely saysuch a decision should probably involve actual feelings?
His smile came more easily. Relief, not disappointment. “Of course. I’d expect nothing less. Take whatever time you require. Some matters are worth waiting for.”
He rose. She followed, automated grace carrying her through movements her mind had abandoned. He bowed over her hand, lips brushing her glove with perfect propriety.
“I’ll call again in a few days, if I may? Perhaps that promenade through the gardens we discussed. Young Henry might enjoy the fresh air.”
“Lovely.” The lie slipped out smooth as butter.
She walked him to the entrance hall. Maintained composure through his departure. Even managed a small wave as his carriage rolled away.
Then she stood there. Staring at nothing. While something inside her quietly shattered.
This was it. What she should want. What any sensible woman would grab with both hands and thank God for. Lord Ashbourne offered everything—position, security, protection of an established name. He’d be kind to Henry. Respectful to her. Faithful in his duties.
