“Please do not apologize; I am certain he enjoys it.” And, in all honesty, Amelia found it quite endearing of the both of them.
Lady Anderson smiled kindly. “Enough of me. We need to talk of you!”
“That appears to be the preferred topic of conversation tonight, yes.” Amelia sighed.
“Oh, I do like you.” Lady Anderson turned to Lady Cromwell. “I like her.”
“Yes, yes, it would be quite hard not to. But, Lady Norwich, do say Edward finally confessed all to you at last.”
Amelia blinked at Lady Cromwell. “No, but I feel I am well apprised of the situation now. After this evening. And the letters—”
“What letters?” Lady Anderson jumped in.
Amelia pulled the latest note from her reticule. Suddenly apprehensive, she stared at the tiny folds of paper before surrendering it to the other ladies.
“Oh, I cannot possibly read this!” Lady Cromwell threw her hands up after a tense few seconds of squinting at the letters in the darkness. She looked at Amelia. “What do they say?”
“They are letters from—from the women he—”
“Ruined?” Lady Cromwell supplied.
“Augusta!” Lady Anderson gasped.
“Well, it is the truth, if not all of it.” Lady Cromwell raised both brows at Lady Anderson. Amelia felt as if her head was spinning, trying to collect all the bits and phrases that would help explain her current predicament.“Oh, child, we have confused you. Let us back up. Shall we, Augusta?”
“Very well.”
The carriage came to a stop then, and a footman opened the door. Amelia viewed her home by the light of the oil lamps.
Home.
Funny that this townhome carried that name when the house she had just left had never been considered such.
The ladies filed out of the equipage and into the home. By the time they were each settled near the fire in the drawing room, Amelia was near to bursting with questions and confusion.
“Well?” she asked, gaze swinging between both ladies when they did not say anything for an excruciating minute. Or perhaps it had only been a handful of seconds.
Lady Cromwell sat up straighter, her hand adjusting on the top of her cane. “I think I speak for both of us when I say that Edward has bungled this marriage horribly. But we conversely believe that this marriage is the best thing to have ever happened to the boy, and we think that should you two begin on a better standing, you could be quite happy. So we’ve determined to intervene.”
Her words were decisive, and she raised her brows at Amelia as if seeking permission to continue. Amelia gave a shaky sort of nod. It was enough.
“These rumors have spun out of control. Edward is not the man Society paints him to be, difficult as that may be to believe, what with how terribly he has managed your relationship thus far.”
“And!” Lady Anderson cut in importantly. “I’ll have you know, your father and I knew each other during our younger years, and though a bit stiff, he was a fine enough man. Fine enough to marry your wonderful mother. I cannot imagine his part in the rumors is true in the least.”
Amelia offered a wan smile. She could only puzzle out one confusing man at a time, and her mind was currently far more invested in Edward’s story. She felt as if she were playing a composition that was missing the final page. And one—or seven—pages in the middle.
Lady Cromwell made a tutting sound. “Yes, that is all very nice, but we are losing the point of this conversation, and I would like to have made some progress before Edward returns.”
“I do not know that he will.” The words, borne from the depths of Amelia’s fear-based beliefs, slipped between her lips.
The women looked at each other. “Oh, he will,” they said in unison.
Amelia could only wave them on. They would have to agree to disagree.
“We ought to start at the beginning, yes?” Lady Anderson asked Lady Cromwell.
“I believe that is best.” She turned her eyes on Amelia. “You must realize that Edward’s parents had a terrible relationship from the start. Lord Norwich was a handsome man, to be sure, and Arabella fancied herself attracted, but within weeks, it was clear they would clash on just about everything. Still, Arabella tried. Lord Norwich may have even tried. But after Edward was born, Lord Norwich lost any semblance of a caring husband. Forgive my frankness, but he took many mistresses and was not at all discreet. He became harsh and unyielding. As dear friends of Edward’s mother, we watched as she drew further and further into herself, hardly capable of functioning in a marriage that so stifled her.”
