Amelia withheld her surprise at his acquiescence and watched him, her gaze moving between each of his eyes. A flash of emotion crossed his face. Pain? No. That made no sense at all. “Of course. What is your stipulation?”
“I would like to maintain the act at home as well.”
She could not keep the shock and alarm from her face. What could he mean? Surely not—
As if reading her thoughts, he hurried to add, “Not physically, I mean! Only that we will spend our time together—in harmony, I would hope—as a married couple might. I-I believe it will help us to appear more natural when in public.” He was flustered, and it was endearing.
She blinked, clearing her mind of those thoughts so she could focus on what he had requested. There was truth in what he said—a sort of logic—and she did not have any objections to the stipulation. Except, how was she to ensure they stayed only friends if they were to act the part of a married couple at all times? She still did not know the truth behind his reputation, and she had no desire to tell him of her scars and see how very disgusted he would be. Not to mention, he was clearly still seeing women. In their home. It would be abominable to fall in love with her husband if he did not return the affection. It would be even worse to fall in love with her husband and see how very far she fell in his affection once he learned of her scars.
But, however difficult pretending at a loving marriage at all times would be, it must be done. For Henrietta.
And perhaps... her thoughts halted as she glimpsed something on Lord Norwich’s desk. A list. She blinked. Women? A list of women? And there... beside it... a stack of letters?
Hot pounding began in her chest. What was this? Was her husband writing to other women? Her breath caught painfully as she tried to make sense of this. No matter what she had believed—what she had told herself—about her husband’s reputation, this pain told her her heart had never fully believed it. Seeing further evidence of his disloyalty...
She shook her head. It could not matter just now. Her goal was helping Henrietta.
“Does that mean you disagree with my conditions?”
Amelia looked up, startled to realize how long she had become lost in her thoughts. “No. No, I accept your conditions. When shall we begin?” She added a brick to her defenses with every word. Apparently, they had not been strong enough, and her heart had been pierced.
The corner of Lord Norwich’s mouth hitched up, and a hint of something mysterious flashed across his expression. “Now, I think. Would you care for a ride in Hyde Park?”
Amelia nodded slowly, ignoring the sudden feeling that a breeze had made its way into her midsection and was spinning her insides about. “Let me fetch my pelisse.” With a last glance at the list, she stood and left.
Chapter Twenty-One
They had hardly reached HydePark before they met with an influx of members of the upper ten thousand. Edward was glad of it, for it gave him the perfect excuse. He handled the horses with one hand and reached over to Amelia with the other. Amelia stiffened as he threaded his fingers through hers. He sent her a reassuring smile.
She did not seem reassured.
Their situation felt reminiscent of only a few weeks before when he had taken her for a ride in Hyde Park as part of his ridiculous act to court her. Only now, it was far harder—courtesy of Edward’s love for Amelia. Her small hand feltrightwithin his, but he was not unaware that she might not be enjoying the experience. Very well. He would have to help her along.
He smiled to himself. Who would have thought that amidst his attempts to find the best way to have Amelia see his love for her, and hopefully return it, she would give him just the perfect excuse: pretending at a happy marriage.
His thumb brushed the top of hers, moving in a rhythmic motion that matched the pounding in his chest, though at half the speed. If he truly rubbed the back of her hand with the speed his heart was racing just then, he’d be more likely to catch her glove on fire than convince her he loved her.
She stilled, and he could only hope she was similarly affected. Their gig passed the Allstons’ carriage and Edward nodded to Lord Allston, whose face could be seen in the window. From the corner of his vision, he saw Amelia offer a tight nod of her own. He squeezed her hand lightly, turning to look at her.
“You are looking rather pale, my dear.” He used the statement as an excuse to lean close, eyes surveying her face. “Perhaps,” he said, under his breath, “if you did not appear to be going to your own beheading, we might convince a few of these people we are happily married.” He winked at her to soften the statement but had to tighten his jaw as she bit her lip and looked around them. Had a woman ever been so enticing?
And then, quite unexpectedly, she inched closer to him. Close enough that he could distinctly feel her body heat against his side. His heart sped up further, and some part of him wondered if its current rate could be fatal. He’d prefer not to die before at least kissing the woman. When she looked at him with a timid raise of her brow, it was all he could do to choke out a “much better,” before focusing back on the overrun path ahead of them. He grasped for a topic.
“Your sister’s beau. Is he someone you know well?”
She shifted, her knee brushing against his own. He swallowed hard.
“No, not at all. I hardly even recognized his name when I first learned it. A Sir Frederick Easton.” She paused. “Do you know him?”
Edward studiously ignored the growing inability to breathe. “Not well. He is older than I by a few years but seems to be a good enough man from what I have seen. It is a little surprising that your sister should be interested in him though.”
She turned her head to look at him at the same time that he moved to glance down at her; they were impossibly close. Only a small movement and he would be able to touch his lips to hers...
She faced the road once more, and he nearly groaned.
“Why is that?”
“What?”
