Mrs. Clifton and her daughter? “Yes. Do you suppose to know what it meant?”
“I can only guess, having less experience deciphering Society’s inner gossip than even you. But from what I have seen in my sisters, it likely meant they had achieved the point of their conversing with us. I imagine they found some sort of interesting tidbit or insult to carry back to their friends.” She shrugged, but Edward only felt confused.
“We spoke for not even three minutes. How could they find such a thing in that short of a conversation?”
Amelia coughed lightly, covering a smile. “Well, I believe next we may hear that Lord Norwich is ashamed of his wife.”
“What?” The word burst from Edward’s lips louder than he’d intended. An older couple walking the path near them looked up, startled. He urged the horses past them. “What?” He repeated in a lower voice this time. “That is not at all what I said. Not to mention untrue.”
Amelia offered him a small, genuine smile. “I did not say yousaidthat explicitly, only that I believe that is what they inferred, or chose to infer, when you said any man would hide a wife such as myself away.”
His mouth dropped open, and he spluttered slightly. “That isnotwhat I said.”
“I know. But in London’s Society, I do not believe it matters so much what you say, only what the listener deems important enough to repeat. It’s a dreadful business.” She shrugged again, and Edward could not understand her devil-may-care attitude. They had enough gossip circulating regarding their marriage; he could not imagine she wished for more. Particularly as she had seemed so upset about their reputations and the gossip surrounding them.
Edward transferred the reins to one hand and massaged his temple with the other. He was growing dizzy from his attempts at wooing Amelia. He tried to romance her, and she scoffed; he tried to tease her, and she offered a cutting reply. And then she became suddenly teasing and uncaring regarding him and Society. During this conversation alone she had been equally vexing and attractive. What was a man to do withthat?
“This was supposed to be easy,” he muttered darkly.
“Do not worry. My family never found it easy to be connected to me either.” Her words were spoken with humor, but Edward did not miss the meaning behind them. He glanced at her sharply, his hand falling from his head and settling quite easily on her knee. Heat bloomed in his palm, and he stared at the spot in surprise for a moment before clearing his throat.
“Thatisalsonot what I meant,” he said quietly.
Her gaze met his, her eyes a clear green today, and her bewilderment was obvious in the way she could not maintain the connection. He drew his hand back, retaking the reins.
A few beats of silence pulsed between them.
“Thank you.”
Her soft words were barely audible in the din about them, but he heard them nonetheless and smiled. Had the great Amelia just deigned to thank him for something? Had he managed something worth thanking? The idea made his smile grow.
“You are welcome.”
Chapter Thirteen
Two days later, Edward returnedfrom Lords in the late evening, his head turning over a number of issues the titled gentlemen had vehemently discussed that day. Generally, he stayed out of the debates—it did not fit his carefully crafted image of irresponsibility if he had an opinion—but he always studied the issues nonetheless. And tonight, he had an inexplicable desire to ask Amelia’s thoughts on a matter or two, but he squashed the feeling. That was not the nature of their tempestuous relationship, and it was rather odd that he would have such a desire.
But she was intelligent, not to mention frank. Perhaps he would pose a few questions to her at dinner that evening. Her responses would certainly prove entertaining if nothing else. More likely, they would be enlightening.
He entered his home and pulled off his hat and gloves. He handed them to Coombs, who, for once, was not glaring at him. But Edward stopped the man before he left.
“What is that sound?”
“Music, my lord.”
Edward eyed his butler. He was not so dimwitted that he could not discern what music was. He simply did not know why it was in his home. The sound had been noticeably absent for years. Ever since his mother passed.
“Yes, Coombs, I gathered as much. I meant who is playing the pianoforte?”
“Ah. Lady Norwich, my lord.” And then the sardonic old man walked away without even awaiting a dismissal.
“You may go, Coombs!”
Coombs’s only response was a sort of harumph from out of sight. Edward sighed. He truly should be firmer with his staff, but they had been his only companions for so long that he allowed them certain liberties.
A crescendo of music filled the home before cutting off entirely. At once, he felt relieved and... sorrowful. It had been nearly a decade since he had heard music played on that pianoforte, but for some reason, Amelia’s playing did not cause him the distress he’d anticipated he would feel if ever the sound began again.
Without thinking, Edward strode down the hall. He was headed for the music room, intent on learning why she’d stopped in the midst of her song, when a new melody floated from the closed doors. This one was far happier, and it lifted his spirits to hear it. Cautiously, he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms to listen.
