No. Absolutely not. That was why he was doing all of this. If he treated Amelia as women of thetonwished to be treated, she would fall for him and they would then attain a far better marriage than his parents. He wouldn’t have to worry about Society and its ridiculous games anymore, and more importantly, he wouldn’t have the fear of turning into his father hanging over his head any longer.
That was why his plan must work.
And that was why he was waiting for her. He felt some need to see her and assure himself that his efforts at romance from afar had healed the breach between them.
Therefore, he waspurposelytrying toaccidentallybump into her in the hall. It was foolhardy. He was a fool. Or, perhaps, he was brilliant.
No. More likely a fool. But what else was he to do?
Her door creaked, and he flung his own open in the same second. It crashed against the wall with incredible vigor, and when he stepped out, her wide, surprised eyes met his.
“Lady Norwich, just the woman I wished to see this morning.”
A wary look entered her expression, and she took half a step away. “Well, here you see me.” Her hands gave a little twirl in the air.
“Yes, indeed. And a pleasant sight it is.” He thought he saw disappointment cross her face, but it was so quick a look, he hadn’t the time to decipher it.
“Was there something in particular you needed?” She took another step from him as she spoke, and her clear desire to leave made him all the more desirous for her to stay. Not because of anything beyond wooing her, of course.
“Yes,” he said.
She stopped her retreat. “And that is?”
Uh. Perhaps he ought to have completed this foolhardy plan beyond simply hiding behind his door until she exited her own. Edward cleared his throat. “Your opinion on something of great importance.” He looked about for such a thing.
Her brow raised.
In a fit of brilliance—or idiocy—he gestured to the wall. “This painting here, do you—er—find the man handsome?”
“Excuse me?” She’d come closer when he’d indicated the painting on the wall, but now she stopped.
Why had he not planned what to say during the quarter hour in which he’d awaited her appearance? He hid a grimace. “The one with the sword. I understand your confusion, as he is not the only man visible, but he is clearly the subject of the artist, and I simply wondered why he was chosen to be such. His nose is rather large, is it not?” That was not romantic in the least.
“You cannot be in earnest.”
He widened his eyes innocently. Perhaps he ought to retreat, but he was too far into it now. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. “No, I am, I assure you. His noseislarge, and his ears rather overlong. I find myself wondering each time I exit my rooms: Why isthisman worthy of such a composition?” He had wondered no such thing until this moment.
She eyed him, clearly perplexed, and he derived a strange satisfaction at making her so.
But then her wary look slipped, and a gleam entered her eye. She leaned her head to the side, looking between him and the painting. “Yes. His nose and ears are not particularly well-proportioned. And his hair appears to be thinning just there. I should think he looks rather like you.”
His responding splutter made her smile.
“If that is all, I am meeting with your housekeeper to finalize the menu for the dinner party. Good day, Lord Norwich.”
And she was gone more quickly than she’d turned the tables on him.
He watched her go shaking his head. The woman was a mystery, but he was determined to solve it. Then, before he left, his gaze swung back to the painting. His hand reached up to his hair.
No. No, it was not thinning at all.
Chapter Eleven
“Well? Where is this newwife of yours?” Lady Cromwell asked as she settled herself far too comfortably in his study.
Edward scowled. “Why yes, the weather is quite fine. How very proper of you to mention such a thing before unceremoniously digging into my personal affairs.”
Lady Cromwell raised a graying eyebrow. “I believe you are well aware that any affair of yours has never been personal.”
