They were not four feet from the store when Amelia presented the wrapped package with the ribbon to Mary. “For you, Mary.”
Glee and dismay warred in her maid’s expression. Dismay won. “I couldn’t, my lady. But it is quite kind of you.”
“Ah, but this shade of pink would complement your complexion far better than my own. You must have it; I will not hear otherwise.”
Mary’s smile grew as she took the package. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you.” She turned her smile onto the package, then back up at Amelia.
Amelia’s expression matched that of her maid’s. That is, it did until she focused her gaze on the street ahead and saw the very last person she wished to encounter.
Quickly, she pulled Mary closer to the shops, allowing a group of women to pass in front of them. “It is Lord Norwich,” she whispered. “I cannot be seen by him!”
Her maid stepped in front of her, on the pretense of looking into a milliner’s window. But not before Amelia saw that her intended was not alone.
Lord Norwich strolled the street with a woman on his arm. A stunningly beautiful woman.
They passed so closely, walking so slowly, that Amelia and Mary overheard a great deal of their conversation.
“It has beenagessince you have been to call, Lord Norwich. I had begun to believe you had forgotten all about me!”
Amelia peeked around Mary to see the woman dramatically push out her lower lip as she spoke. Lord Norwich looked down on his companion, though Amelia could not see his expression. She ducked back behind Mary before he could look up.
“That would be nearly impossible, I am sure.” Both voices were honeyed and flattering. Amelia nearly lost her breakfast.
“Oh, you are too kind, my lord. Now, where are you off to? I could certainly use an escort to Miss Addington’s. My maid is positively dreary company.”
Amelia could fairlyhearthe unknown woman batting her eyelashes at Lord Norwich, but she did not hear his response as they disappeared down the street. Mary stepped aside, watching her mistress carefully. Amelia’s head shook sadly.
“How, Mary? How could my father possibly make me marryhim?” Despair flared within her, and her momentary freedom was entirely tainted.
“I am sorry, my lady.” Mary’s voice was just as despondent as the two women watched the street where Amelia’s betrothed and hisfriendhad just been walking.
Amelia turned toward the building, intending to swipe away the emotion lingering on her face. But instead, her attention was caught by a set of caricatures in the window of a print shop just beyond them. Something drew her toward them, but she immediately regretted her decision as she took in a large, overdramatic depiction of a couple lying on the ground in a park, their clothing wet from head to toe. A crowd surrounded them sporting varying expressions of disgust and delight, and the simple explanation below stated “Lord N and His Newly Acquired Wife.”
It was her.Shewas that pitiful woman with clothing clinging to her unbecomingly andLord N’s arm about her waist.
Good heavens.
Sounds all about her became both heightened and dimmed all at once. The heat of the day seemed to cause difficulty to her breathing. Her father was right—she was already being made a fool of. Her reputation was already being bandied about as nothing more than a piece of gossip.
The afternoon’s freedom faded away, replaced with a caged, hopeless feeling. Realizing the truth of her father’s position did nothing to alleviate her own. Yes, Papa was right, but that did not mean she’d suddenly developed a desire to marry Lord Norwich. The opposite, in fact. She blamed him even further—hated his reputation even more. Had he not been a known rake, it was possible the gossips would not have latched onto this newest bit of gossip surrounding him.
Yet there was nothing for it. Abandoning any thought of continuing their once-enjoyable afternoon, Amelia took Mary’s arm silently and led her away from the shop. She had a dress fitting she could not be late to.
Chapter Six
Edward did not see LadyAmelia again until their wedding. Yet here he sat, in a carriage outside the church, about to make her his wife.
His cravat was far too tight, and a dull pain had started behind his brow. Lack of sleep over the last few days did not seem to agree with him. He rubbed a hand down his face. He’d intended to give London a shock this Season, but he’d never meant to shock himself as well.
But no. This was what he had wanted.
Wasn’t it?
He’d entered the Season intending to be married by the end. It had simply happened more quickly than planned. He could hardly complain about that.
And yet... a part of him, a very small part, of course, wondered if this was perhaps an occasion in his life where he ought to have tread more lightly. Barton’s words from months ago came back to Edward—floating across his thoughts as they were wont to do as of late.The better man.But this latest issue was not his fault. He had been in the wrong place at the wrong time—hewasbeing a better man. He was marrying the girl after all—didn’t that count for anything?
Thankfully, Barton was not there to give Edward that disapproving brow of his. Yet somehow, Edward could see it clearly even still. Blast the man.
