Then a deeper one.
“No, you can do this, Amelia,” he said as he leaned back.
“If that was meant to convince me to forgo the flee-to-the-country plan, it was not very well thought out,” she responded drily.
“Oh no, it was meant as incentive to complete this as quickly as possible.”
She rolled her eyes, feeling her nerves lighten marginally. But still, she hadn’t a clue how she would find her family or what she would say when she did.
“Shall we, then?”
She glanced up to see Edward had already alighted from the carriage without her noticing. She swallowed.
His brow furrowed as he leaned against the open door. “Do you really wish to leave? We can.”
“No.” She blew out a breath, adjusting her skirts over her lap with a jerk and threading her hands together. “But what am I to do when I see them?”
“Well.” He speared her with a serious look. “How good are you with a knife?”
A surprised bark of laughter escaped her. “Not very, why?”
“Then I suppose we must forgo that plan.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve a friend who’s a bow street runner. Perhaps we can have your sister and Miss Brooks arrested.”
Again, she laughed at his ridiculous ideas, coupled with his stoic expression.
“What?” he asked, as if genuinely offended. But she caught the slight twitch of his lips.
“You hardly have any friends. Let alone a bow street runner.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“And I am right.”
He grinned at her. “Just because it is true does not mean it is polite to point out one’s friendlessness.”
“You are no help.”
“On the contrary. You are no longer twisting your hands, and you’ve laughed multiple times during the course of this conversation. Come, Amelia. Show your family some of the fire that first drew me to you. You are more than capable.”
“You are right. I am.” And she believed it. With firm resolve, she took Edward’s outstretched hand and stepped from the carriage.
They were silent as they ascended the stairs and entered the grand home.
The hall was nearly deserted, though the strains of a quadrille floated on the air. The butler watched them warily as they entered.
“Do not worry, Alderton. I shan’t be here long. Lady Edith—where would I find her?”
The butler’s face registered surprise, though at her commanding tone or simply the fact that she knew his name, she couldn’t guess. But then his eyes narrowed. “I assume Lady Edith is with her guests. The family is hosting a ball, if you did not notice.”
Amelia could have rolled her eyes. Clearly, Alderton would be no help. “Very well, if you will not help me, I shall appeal to Mrs. Bedford.” And without waiting for his response, she swept past the grumpy old man and down the corridor.
She had no intention of finding Mrs. Bedford, though she may need to. She had recalled a bit of information from Henrietta. Her sister had said Edith and Miss Brooks were in the library. It was quite likely they had left, but it seemed as good a place as any to begin looking for them.
If at all possible, she would like to avoid interacting with the other guests completely.
A group of ladies exited a retiring room a few doors down, and Amelia averted her face as they passed. Finally, she came to a stop outside the library doors. Her hand grasped the handle at the same moment someone placed a hand on her lower back.
She jumped nearly a foot, turning to see Edward—his hands lifted in surrender.
