And he couldn’t possibly have kissed her in that way if itwasn’tgenuine, could he have?
Mary entered, carrying a freshly pressed gown. She laid it on the bed. “What do you plan while his lordship is gone?”
Amelia fingered the ties on her dressing gown, pushing thoughts of Edward from her mind. Forcibly. “I had thought to return Lady Bowcott’s visit.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?” Mary gave her a teasing look.
“Yes, actually. I fear I must bend to Society’s strictures if I do not want to bring down more shame upon my name. Besides, I shall enjoy your company.”
The idea of speaking with Kate again was enjoyable, but not enjoyable enough to improve upon what Amelia was beginning to deem the worst part of the day: dressing. It was impossible not to see the scars and be reminded of the things she still had not told Edward. At times she regretted saving that young boy from the ruins. It was a terrible thought to have, but had she ignored the cries she would be whole. Even if she would not have been able to forgive herself.
Yet another reason she questioned her growing relationship with Edward. He could not possibly accept her with these disfigurements. Could he? According to Edith, no man could. And while Amelia had seen several wonderful qualities in her husband, she had seen how he cared for his appearance and place in Society. Even if his flattering words had tapered off, he couldn’t suddenly decide he did not care about Society at all. And as much as she teased him, were he to know of the scars and stop flattering her at all... that would pain her greatly.
Mary helped her into a dress with a high neckline. But Amelia still knew the scars were there. Sometimes, it felt as if the scars were branded on her very heart, reminding her that she was different. That she was damaged.
She tore her eyes away, avoiding the mirror while Mary styled her hair.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Lord Norwich!”
Edward looked up blearily as he trudged down the stairs of the inn. He had been jostled too much in the carriage the day before, then slept on a bed of stone. And now someone was yelling at him. Plus, Amelia was miles away.
His day was not going well.
A woman stood beside a table in the middle of the room, her maid beside her. She looked fairly familiar, but Edward could not place her.
The woman stopped a few paces from him as he reached the foot of the staircase and smiled. “Lord Norwich.”
“Ah—yes?”
“You do not remember me?” Her face pinched in consternation. It was a pretty enough face, by some standards. But she gave off an overall aura of superiority and vanity that he found immediately repulsive.
“I am afraid I do not.” He offered nothing else.
The woman’s thin eyebrows pulled down, her lips pursing. Then she laughed, a high, grating sound. “I see how well you cared for me. But never mind that, it must be fate to throw us together again. I am on my way to London even now.” She stepped toward him, her head tilted in what must have been an attempt at seduction.
He stepped back, up onto the bottom stair, glancing around at the unfortunately empty public room.
“I apologize for not recalling your acquaintance, but I fear I am quite in a rush.”
“Miss Brooks,” she said, barring his path. “There, now you recall me, I am sure. You are, after all, the reason I was not able to attend the Season this last year.”
Edward rose a brow. “I am afraid I do not understand, Miss Brooks—” But then he did. He remembered Miss Brooks. “You.”
“There we are.” She smiled in a self-satisfied way.
Edward groaned inwardly. “I apologize, Miss Brooks, but I believe I made it clear to you in our last meeting that I had no wish to continue our acquaintance. Good day.”
But still, she did not move. She blinked her eyes in a practiced sort of innocence and brushed her fingertips across her collarbone as if attempting to draw his eye to her low-cut gown. It did not work. Her tricks never had.
“I recall no such conversation.”
“Then we shall have it now.”
“I would be more than pleased to join in a conversation with you, my lord, but it may not be proper—an eligible gentleman and lady ensconced in such atête-à-tête.” She trilled in laughter again, and Edward rubbed his temple. Vaguely, he noticed he didn’t have an ounce of desire to flatter his way out of this situation. He had no wish to offer compliments or flattery to anyone but his wife.
“I am not eligible, Miss Brooks. I am a married man.”
