Sam didn’t answer. He licked his lips with his pale pink tongue and sighed. He slipped back into unconsciousness, his features going slack. Amelia grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “That was perfect, Sam. We’ll try again soon.”
“We cannot rush this,” Blakewood said softly.
Amelia knew it was true, but she hated going slowly for any reason. But annoying as he had been last night, she was still determined to honor their truce, such as it was, and since she couldn’t think of anything neutral to say, she said nothing.
“I’ll shave him now, my lady, and change his bedding,” Petrov said.
Amelia nodded, taking one last long look at her brother, and stepped into the hallway. She bit her fist, trying to stuff the torrent of emotion back inside and lock it in her chest.
“That was good,” Mr. Blakewood said, following her out of the room.
Amelia couldn’t yet speak through the vice around her throat.
“Still determined to not speak to me, I see.”
Amelia looked up at him and found her voice. “What is there to say? Nothing really. It isn’t the first time we’ve disagreed about something, nor will it be the last. I don’t intend to let it ruin the day.” She took a breath, mentally shaking herself. “We’ll be attending Lady Cecily’s garden party this afternoon, if you recall.”
He winced.
“I know. Sam hates them, too. But she was my mother’s friend. She will wonder where Sam is. My aunt will be in attendance, too.”
He straightened, tugging at his waistcoat and rolling his neck. “And what will we say? Is he still sick?”
“He couldn’t be. He...” She turned to face him and shrugged. “I’m out of ideas. I’m... tired.” She wanted to slump against the wall.
“I know, Lady Amelia. I’m exhausted, too,” he said, his voice rough.
She didn’t have the energy to be properly angry with him. “I’m tired of being the intelligent half of this charade. You think of something.”
He cocked his head. “If you’re the intelligence, what does that make me?”
“The brawn.”
He half-smiled. “Careful, that sounds like a compliment.”
“It isn’t,” she replied, but her cheeks warmed as she took in his massive size. He made the spacious hallway feel smaller. He wasn’t looming over her, but he did demand all her attention.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll think of something.”
“Something so banal, no one would dare question it. Something so boring that people will be half asleep before you finish speaking. I have complete faith in your ability.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw—was that amusement?—but he turned away without answering.
Amelia almost smiled, but that would have taken more energy than she had at the moment. Sam had drunk water. That had been her only hope for the day and it had been accomplished. Nothing else mattered now.
And at least the conversation between her and Graham felt normal once again, maybe even slightly friendlier. Certainly, none of those odd feelings from last night remained. She hadno reason to be nervous around him. He may be large and overbearingly protective, but he was harmless to her. From now on, he wouldn’t stir any more emotions from her other than annoyance. She knew it. Last night was an oddity. Those anxious moments when he saw her in the breeches were only a brief moment of idiocy. Nothing had changed between them.
Nothing at all.
Chapter Eight
Amelia wore adeep-maroon day dress. She matched the burgundy roses that covered the archway entering Lady Cecily’s garden perfectly. She’d tossed away her virginal white gowns a year ago and never looked back. Now Aunt Ruth glared at her from the refreshment table. Amelia pretended not to see her, or she’d be trapped into speaking with her. But she turned away, and there stood Nelson instead. Amelia didn’t bother hiding her slight grimace. After all, he didn’t hide the fact that he only wanted to marry her for her money.
“Dearest cousin, what a delight to see you.” His gaze roved over her body as he strolled nearer. Unlike her, Sam, and their father, Aunt Ruth and Nelson had inherited the brown locks of their fraternal grandfather. But they did share eye color. He smiled broadly as he met her gaze again.
“Nelson,” Amelia replied dryly.
He pouted his lips. “Not as delighted to see me as I am to see you? Whyever not?”
