He told himself he would only wait until she’d finished the song, but half an hour later, he was sitting against the same wall, his head leaned back and his eyes closed.
Astonishment did not begin to describe how he felt as he heard the intricate trills and dynamics of the current piece. He’d had no clue Amelia had such talent. Truly it was the finest he’d ever heard, and he thought he might stay there all evening if she continued playing.
What other hidden talents or secrets did Amelia hold? There was so much Edward did not know about his wife. And he wanted to learn more. A great deal more. The curiosity was hard to explain.
How could he convince her to love him? Could such a thing be possible?
And why did he depend on it so fully? More so than a week before. Much more.
The tense feeling he felt at being so near the music room niggled the back of his mind, causing his chest to feel tight. Amelia’s music had held it at bay, but it could not erase it entirely. Or perhaps the feeling had returned because the music had stopped.
The music had stopped.
Frantic, Edward’s eyes flew open. His gaze swept the hall. Had Amelia discovered him? Grateful to find the corridor empty, he stood, brushed off his pants, and hurried down the hall.
He was nearly running by the time he turned the corner.
“These came for you while you were out, my lord.”
Coombs’s voice caught him just before he ducked into his book room. The observant man was eyeing him with suspicion but handed him a stack of correspondence without another word.
Edward grabbed the papers. A distraction. Perfect.
“Ah, thank you, Coombs.” Slowing his breathing, he thumbed through the letters as he shut the door, closing himself within his book room. He paused when he saw his valet’s name. He had not heard from Barton since his departure more than a fortnight before.
Grateful for the distraction and hopeful he would learn good news about Barton’s mother, he sat and used the knife atop his desk to cut through the sealing wafer and read Barton’s words.
Lord Norwich,
I wish to express my gratitude to you for allowing me to see to my mother. Her health is as I expected—that is, rather poor. I do not anticipate I will be needed at home long. You may expect my return by the middle of next month at the latest.
Barton
Edward frowned at the piece of foolscap, understanding at once the meaning behind his valet’s sparse explanation. The man’s mother would likely die in the coming weeks, and therefore, Barton’s presence would no longer be necessary. Edward groaned, dropping to his chair. His valet was devoted to his family, and this would likely tear him apart. Edward’s knee bounced up and down as he contemplated the situation. Was there anything he could do for the family that would help ease the burden? Perhaps he should look into their living situation or ensure the doctor seeing to the woman was competent. Except Barton had mentioned there was no town physician.
And then he thought of it, surprised at the idiocy he had shown to not think of such a thing before. Had he always been this daft or was this a new development?
He pulled a fresh sheet of paper closer, jotting out first a response to his valet, then a second letter, before folding and addressing the missives. He added his seal, then rang for a footman to have them franked. Hopefully, he would be able to aid his friend in a way he ought to have weeks ago. Months, even.
Now, if only he could find a way to help himself.
***
Amelia dressed for dinner with particular care. Her blue silk dress swished as she moved back and forth in front of the mirror.
It was normal to change gowns twice before dinner with one’s husband. At least, that was what she continually repeated in her mind. Though truthfully, even she knew it was peculiar. Mary’s barely withheld smile did not aid her embarrassment.
But this was the first evening that Amelia had good reason to believe Lord Norwich would actually be joining her.
Of course, he had surprised her by coming down for dinner two days before, after their ride through Hyde Park, but this was the first time she had prior notice he might be coming. Generally, he was “out” when dinner was served. On those days, Amelia could have chosen to take a tray in her room, but she preferred the company of at least the footmen surrounding the table to the company of throw pillows and bed curtains.
But tonight, she had asked Mary and was informed that Lord Norwich had been home for well over an hour and would dine with her, as if they were a typical married couple. As if they did not fight, tease, or occasionally have a single genuine interaction when they were together.
“There you are, my lady.” Mary stepped back, having finished doing up Amelia’s third gown for the evening. “What do you think?”
Amelia barely withheld a sigh as she took in her overbearing appearance. Though she hadn’t any idea the state of her pin money, she needed to have new gowns made. She was quite through with looking like she’d tripped and fallen headlong into a pile of lace and ribbons. There had to be some way to cover the scars crisscrossing her neck and shoulders that was less obtrusive. The dressmaker who’d made her wedding dress had done a fine job.
“My lady?” Mary’s normally confident voice sounded quite unsure, and Amelia hastily turned a smile on her. “We could try the pink again?”
