Amelia took a long sip of her rum punch before answering. “Do you want the truth?”
Someone jerked her cup from her grasp, causing droplets to spill down her chest and the front of her bodice. Amelia turned in outrage to see her Aunt Ruth.
She pushed a new cup into Amelia’s hand. “I’ve brought you a fresh cup of lemonade, my dear. So much more refreshing and appropriate than punch. Good heavens, what’s happened to your dress?” Her aunt feigned innocence.
“How dreadful. Let me help.” With a flick of his wrist, Nelson drew out his handkerchief and moved to dab at her breasts.
Amelia grabbed his wrist and squeezed. He yelped. Ignoring the lemonade her aunt still held out to her, Amelia took the handkerchief from his hand and wiped herself as she bit back a snarl of frustration and rage. He really thought he could touch her right here, in front of everyone, as if he had some sort of proprietary right to her body.
Amelia fought to unclench her jaw. “No, thank you. Don’t worry about the dress, mydearestaunt; the color of my dress will hide the punch. How fortunate that I chose to wear it today.”
Aunt Ruth pressed her lips together before remembering their surroundings and smiling brightly. “Yes, indeed.”
“I do adore this color on you,” Nelson said. He held out his hand for the handkerchief.
Amelia handed it back. He held her gaze as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, and then he sniffed it before pocketing it.
Amelia stepped back and bumped into a broad chest. She didn’t turn. She recognized the mountain standing behind her and felt relief, though she wouldn’t show it on her face. She was loath to show such a weakness here among the jackals.
“Good day, Lady Ruth, Lord Clark, Lady Amelia.”
“Mr. Blakewood,” Aunt Ruth nodded. “And where is my nephew?” She peered around the garden. “He has not yet come to greet me.”
Amelia froze. In her panic, she couldn’t remember what story she and Blakewood had agreed upon this morning, and she’d not seen him since she’d arrived to remind herself. They’d decided to arrive separately, he on horseback and she in the carriage, and he’d assured her he’d keep his distance. But now she couldn’t be more appreciative of his keen observation. He’d obviously seen her being cornered by these two and come to assist. She could feel the tension in his body and hoped he remembered their excuse for Sam.
“He’s not here,” Amelia said.
“Whyever not? Who escorted you to the party?” Aunt Ruth demanded.
“Lord Alston had to leave urgently. There was a problem with the residence in Stirling,” Blakewood said, his tone flat.
Amelia gathered herself together and nodded in agreement. She remembered now. “He left first thing this morning.”
“The house in Scotland?” Nelson asked.
“Yes, that is where Stirling is,” Amelia gritted.
“What could be wrong?” her aunt asked.
“A sheep plague,” Amelia answered without thinking.
Blakewood cleared his throat. “There is apparently an issue with one of the wells. Some of the sheep have taken ill. I’m sure he’ll handle it quickly and return immediately.”
Her aunt scoffed. “Off to Scotland? He’ll miss most of the season. And what of you? You can’t stay in that house alone.”
Amelia frowned. “Why not?”
“It isn’t done.” Aunt Ruth scolded. “You need a chaperone.”
“I’m twenty-two, not a child. I could live on my own, if I wished.”
“Mother, we can come and—”
“You absolutely will not,” Amelia said, glowering at him. The idea of him under the same roof, stalking the halls at night,shook her. “If you step foot on my doorstep without invitation I’ll have you tossed on your arse by Mr. Keen.”
“Amelia,” her aunt said in a hushed voice and stepping closer. “Where are your manners? It is unacceptable for you to reside alone. Think of what people will say and the damage that your reputation will sustain. And you will need an escort for social events. If you had a husband you wouldn’t be so ill tempered and have these preposterous ideas about independence. It only makes sense that Nelson and I—”
“Lord Alston asked me to escort Amelia in his absence,” Mr. Blakewood interjected.
