Edward sighed. “Amelia—”
“No. Please.” Her head jerked sharply side to side. “I do not know how much of our conversation you heard, but you need not concern yourself with me.”
“I heard enough. You are my wife, and therefore, you are my concern.”
She pressed her eyelids together in a pained expression. He had never seen her this way, utterly dejected and downtrodden. It was nothing like the obstinate, opinionated woman he knew was at her core. He could not keep from laying his hand atop hers, willing her to speak to him. To get to the root of her sadness. For there was more than just an unsettling conversation at play here, that much he could tell. This hurt went far deeper. This hurt seemed to have been lingering for days, only now being uncovered by her sister’s unkindness.
She shook her head again, regaining her composure and swiping the moisture from her cheeks. He could practically see her donning a mask of indifference, even as her eyes still glistened with unshed tears. “We both know our marriage is far from conventional, Lord Norwich. You need not pretend that it is.”
He nearly growled.Growled.“I am not pretending, Amelia. How many times have I told you that my words to you are not false?”
She finally looked at him, and he was struck by how incredibly superior the blue of her eyes was to that of her sister’s.
They watched each other for what felt like an eternity but was likely only a handful of seconds. Edward could not decipher the many conflicting emotions that seemed to flit across her features. Around them, the crowd still bustled—horses clipped down the stone road and people visited—but somehow their little perch in his phaeton felt separate from it all. Finally, she emitted a small sigh, her shoulders drooping.
“It is difficult, Lord Norwich, when you offer flattering words to everyone you cross. You flattered even my sister. How am I to believe I am any different? HowcanI be any different?”
Her explanation surprised him. How he spoke to others wasnothinglike how he spoke with Amelia. How hefeltabout Amelia could not compare to a single relationship he had ever held. And yet—he clenched his jaw—she was not wrong. He offered flattering sentiments as a way to deflect from himself, gain an advantage in the conversation, or simply end a conversation as quickly as possible. Just as he had done with Lady Edith. Amelia could not know that the sentiment behind his words to her sister or any other member of thetonwas far different from the feelings behind his words to her.
But whatdidhe feel for Amelia? He had an inkling, but the possibility was terrifying.
He expelled a long, strenuous breath. Amelia watched him warily.
“You are right,” he said.
Her eyes widened. That could not have been what she expected he would say.
“I am sorry.”
She did not respond, staring at him with her mouth slightly ajar. He wished to say more, but nothing would come. His thoughts wouldn’t settle, and he needed some space to decipher his own mind and emotions. And with the way they were spinning in his head just now, he could not contain the deeply ingrained desire to escape, much as he wished to coax his wife into his arms and never let her go.
“I shall return this dish, and we can go.” Then he left, hopeful that the sixty seconds it would take him to walk into the shop would be adequate for dispelling the strange confusion making his head dizzy.
Chapter Nineteen
Lord Norwich was noticeably absentnearly all of the next day.
Breakfast alone allowed far too much time for inner contemplation. Amelia continually recalled how Lord Norwich had been unable to meet her eyes following her accusations.Whywas she incapable of holding her tongue around Lord Norwich? She had only just decided they could be friends, and then she had to go and berate him over justhowhe had saved her from Edith. Couldn’t it have been enough that for the first time, someone had stepped between her and her sister and chosen Amelia’s side?
Unwilling to continue to stew in her own self-deprecation—Amelia made her way to the kitchen. That was where the housekeeper could most often be found, or in her office just beside it. Outside of planning the dinner party and learning the servant’s names, Amelia had not done a very fine job of assuming her role as lady of the house. Today she would remedy that.
Mrs. Huckabee was incredibly accommodating, assuring Amelia she had been happy to give her a few weeks to settle into her new role. By the end of her meeting with the sturdy, fair-haired woman, Amelia had set the menus for the following week, made some adjustments in the servants’ schedules, and learned that Mrs. Huckabee’s daughter had just had her third baby.
“What is she naming the child?” Amelia asked with genuine interest.
“They haven’t a name yet but hopefully will by Sunday when I visit.”
Amelia stood from the table they had been conversing at and smoothed her hands down her skirts. “That is in nearly five days. Certainly you would like to see your daughter before then.”
The housekeeper stood as well, looking uncomfortable.
“Oh,” Amelia said, realizing her oversight. “You do not have a day off until then, I suppose. Well then, you must take tomorrow off.”
“I could never, my lady, the household—”
“Will be just fine. You run such a tight ship, I imagine you could take a week off and nothing would be amiss.” Amelia smiled at the housekeeper, urging her to agree. “If you will bring me a recommendation of a housemaid who could help me to organize the servants throughout the day, I am sure we will manage. A new grandchild is far more important, regardless!”
The older woman smiled, lines deepening around her eyes as she studied Amelia. “Fanny usually takes on a bit more on my days off, my lady.”
