“Lady Amelia—”
“That will be enough,” Papa called not soon enough. “You may go, Amelia.”
With no desire to stay, she slipped from the room. Apart from the fear and frustration swirling dangerously in her stomach, she felt no different. Yet everything was changed. She wasengaged. Perhaps she should celebrate? Would climbing out her window in the dead of night suffice? Because to be married to a man like Lord Norwich certainly had her wishing she could take up a position as a governess instead. Or perhaps a milkmaid. A shop girl? The options were endless.
Some might not think her fate so bad. Married to an earl before her first Season had really begun. Married even before her two elder sisters.
Her sisters. Amelia’s blood ran cold. Did they know? Perhaps Edith was consulted. It was even likely Amelia had her to thank for this situation. And what would Henrietta say if she knew Amelia was now engaged after their conversation that morning? Just her knowledge from the brief encounters with Lord Norwich was enough to turn her opinion of him decidedly sour. But what Henrietta had said of him made her stomach roll—she would be intimately connected with him.Papa would never allow the likes of him to court you.To think, just that morning, those words had provided a small amount of comfort. But now they seemed to mock her.
Papa wouldn’t allow such a man to court her? No, of course not. Butmarrywas another matter entirely!
Amelia looked down the hall to where she knew the servants’ staircase was concealed around a corner. If she had not stepped on that stair the day before, her sisters would not have reprimanded her and forced her out of doors with their stifling “concerns.” Then she would never have met Lord Norwich. It was, clearly, the staircase’s fault. And those horrid overly large half boots her sisters had insisted she buy. And Lord Norwich’s fault.
Mostly Lord Norwich’s.
But... Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the side of the staircase as if it could whisk her away from her current predicament. The worst part of it all was that it was notonlyLord Norwich’s fault. Or the staircase or the boots. The blame was also hers for believing she could act in London as she had in the country. She’d believed her father would ignore her as greatly here as he had in their ancestral home. When she pulled back the curtains on the truth of the situation, it was as clear as the air in London was smoggy.
Amelia had acted stupidly, and her entire life would now suffer for it.
“Where has Mellie gone off to? I wish to speak with her about last night—entirely unacceptable behavior to skip a ball, headache or not.” Edith’s voice floated down the corridor, and Amelia startled out of her thoughts.
Hastening up the stairs, with a jump that was not ladylike in the least, Amelia hurried away from her sisters. She had no wish to be bullied into divulging the true reason behind her missing the ball nor the ensuing events of this morning.
But the sound of male voices joining the female ones stopped her on the top step just out of sight. Edith’s high, honeyed voice floated up to her.
“Why, Lord Norwich, how do you do?”
“Lady Edith, Lady Henrietta, I am quite well. You both look magnificent this morning—off to call on a few lucky gentlemen?”
Amelia pursed her lips at the overdone compliment. Henrietta’s laugh echoed through the cavernous entry hall.
“You are too kind, Lord Norwich. Perhaps we ought to payyoua call,” Edith simpered.
Amelia rolled her eyes now, leaning against the wall of the upstairs corridor. A maid passed by, giving her a lingering glance but saying nothing.
“That would be most welcome, indeed. But for now, I must bid you good day. Ladies. Your Grace.” Amelia could not see him, but she could imagine his foppish bow. Likely similar to the one he had given her in Papa’s study.
And she wasmarryingthat horrid man. She thought of her future and could only envision an empty lifetime of hearing her husband flatter other women... and likely far worse. Her stomach dropped. Marriage to a man also meant telling him about... him seeing... her fingers grazed the unnaturally high neckline of her dress. For a moment, her anger at him faded away, leaving only a horrible stinging behind her eyes and numbness in her limbs.
What of love? What of marriage to a man who respected her and supported her in ways she had not had for years? What of finding a man who could see past her scars? She pushed from the wall, brushing a few loose curls back from her face.
“What washedoing here, Papa?” Edith’s low voice, curious and faintly snide, followed the sound of the front door closing.
“That is none of your concern, Edith. Though I am certain you will learn the whole of it from Amelia.” Papa’s steps retreated down the hall as the breath seized in Amelia’s chest.
Traitor.
With light but fast steps, Amelia fled to her chambers in hopes of outrunning the imminent interrogation.
There was a blessed moment of silence as her sisters must have puzzled out their father’s words.
And then, “Mellie!”
She turned the lock, safely ensconced in her room just seconds before footsteps sounded in the hall outside. Regally, with a tilted chin and an air of confidence she did not feel, she crossed to her bed. Her back hit the comfortable padding, and she closed her eyes, studiously ignoring the banging on her door.
Chapter Five
Twenty-one hours, thirty-four minutes, andseventeen seconds—she was not actually aware of the precise number of seconds, but this was a good estimation—after the disastrous meeting with Lord Norwich, Amelia was summoned to her father’s study.
