He scanned the contents, breathing a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. His hand tightened on the missive.
“I assume it is good news then?”
He glanced up at Amelia, whose eyes were still upon him. He sat straighter under her gaze, smiling in unrestrained excitement.
“Yes. Yes, indeed. It seems his mother is improving beyond all odds. He is quite clearly relieved.”
She returned his smile tentatively. “I am glad to hear it. What do your other correspondents say?”
He broke open the seal of another missive, scanning those contents as well. The information was as he’d expected, but would require a swift response if his plan was to be fully undertaken as soon as possible.
“Good news as well, I am happy to report.” He paused, looking up at her. “Amelia, I am terribly sorry to ask, but would you mind if I—”
She waved her hand, cutting him off. “Not at all. Go. See to your letters. I look forward to hearing more of your valet at a later date.”
His thoughts caught on that. “I had meant to ask: would you be interested in joining me at Bullock’s Museum this afternoon?”
He counted it a win that she only considered for a moment before agreeing. They set the time, and then, beaming, he rose from his chair with enthusiasm likely standard for a boy of ten rather than a man of six and twenty. He righted the chair that had nearly fallen over in his haste, and Amelia laughed lightly, the musical noise causing his smile to grow. He bowed to her, then strode from the room.
***
Amelia’s smile remained long after Lord Norwich left the room. She was entertained, and fairly shocked, by his reaction to the day’s mail. Hisvalet’smother was regaining health. His valet’s mother. The fact still confused her. How was she to understand this man who could offer endless compliments to all the women in London, hold a reputation that nearly put Prinny’s escapades to shame, and yet still care so deeply for aservant?
Plus, apparently, he tied his own cravats. That certainly did not speak to the self-centered, charming man he often showed her.
She shook her head, certain there was no way she could puzzle it all out just now, and set down her napkin, rising from the table. He had informed her himself that there was much that would surprise her about him, and a deep curiosity had taken root within her. She was still wary; she doubted that would go away easily. But she was seeing glimpses of a man whom she may actually enjoy being married to. And that thrilled her... in a terrifying way.
“My lady.” Coombs’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she exited the drawing room. “Your sister arrived wishing to see you. I put her in the salon. I hope that is acceptable.” His voice turned the last statement into a question, and Amelia, while refraining from wrinkling her nose, nodded to the butler.
“Yes, that is just fine. Thank you, Coombs.”
She looked down at her dress, one of her own rather than one her sisters had commissioned, and shrugged. She did not have time to change, nor did she particularly want to. She had been fitted for new dresses, but the first of them would not be delivered for another day or two. Her sister likely would not approve of them regardless, so Amelia lifted her chin, preparing for whatever Edith had to criticize, and strode down the hall to the salon.
“Mellie!” The familiar voice of, not Edith, but Henrietta, greeted Amelia the moment she entered the room. Her steps faltered as she looked about for her eldest sister. But not finding her, her gaze settled on Henrietta with a somewhat confused smile.
Henrietta’s own happy expression faltered somewhat. “Edith could not come. She is not feeling well.”
Ah.So Edith was still upset and punishing Amelia by pretending she did not exist. Edith had been ignoring her as retribution since they were children. The first time—at least as far as Amelia recalled—had happened after Mama had spent a week’s worth of afternoons helping Amelia with her scales when she was but six years old and the twins nine. The ignoring was nothing new and not altogether unwelcome. She settled in a chair across from her sister, smiling genuinely at her this time.
“It is just fine, Henrietta. I am happy to see you. It is a bit early for tea, but I can call for some if you would like.”
“Oh no, I only just breakfasted. I would not have come at such an unfashionable hour, but I knew you would be up, and we—I—have various social commitments through the rest of the day.” Henrietta’s gaze darted about the room uncomfortably, confirming Amelia’s beliefs regarding Edith’s true behavior.
“I understand. And how are you, Henrietta? Enjoying your Season, I hope.”
Her sister brightened. “Oh yes! It has been incredibly wonderful. Did you hear that Papa is to take us to Brighton after Parliament concludes? Will that not be splendid? I have been trying to convince him to do so for years, and he has finally agreed!”
Amelia’s heart sank an inch or two at the thought that she was to be left behind again. But that was silly. She was married now and would go where her husband went. And she did not think Lord Norwich holidayed in Brighton.
Or perhaps he did. She ought to ask him. There was a great deal she did not know about him still. A great deal that would surprise her, if he was to be believed.
“I am happy for you, Henrietta. How wonderful that must be.”
“Oh yes, wonderful indeed. And I am hopeful I may receive an offer before we leave. Perhaps I will be traveling to the fashionable resort with a husband of my own. Imagine it, Amelia—two of us married!”
Amelia’s smile faltered a little more, but amid the despair she felt for her insignificance, she felt genuine happiness for her sister.
“Is this the beau you spoke of last you were here? Is he someone I know?”
