Amelia could not quite meet her eyes. “Edith has been encouraging me to become more aware of the eligible gentlemen out this Season.”
Henrietta stifled a giggle. “I would not consider Lord Norwich eligible.”
“Oh?” Could he be married? Not truly a lord? Something else entirely?
Leaning across the table, Henrietta whispered, “A gentleman who ruins several women without remorse is certainly not eligible.”
“Oh.” The word was crestfallen, but Henrietta did not notice. She spared another glance for the closed door before continuing with vigor.
“The man has been embroiled in many a scandal since I came to London. Just last year he attempted to purchase a bride from Viscount Harcourt. Thankfully, the lady in question had already been engaged to the new Earl of Bowcott in some secret affair, but otherwise she would have joined the throes of women who retreated to the country in shame at his hand. Oh—there was even a brother once, of one of the women he jilted, you see, who challenged Lord Norwich for a duel. And do you know what Lord Norwich did?”
Amelia shook her head, sitting back. She was no longer interested in her food.
“He laughed in the man’s face.” Her eagerness to impart this gossip was clear. But then she smiled, the action softening her face in a way the nearly identical visage of Edith was never softened. “So, you need not learn about him. However attentive and charming and devilishly handsome he may be, Papa would never allow the likes of him to court you.”
Well, that was some amount of comfort. Hopefully, she would not have to see the man ever again.
“Now, is there any other man you wish to learn about? The favorite this Season is certainly Lord Berkeley, but Edith has her eyes set on him so—”
The door opened, and a footman entered with a note. He presented it to Amelia.
Her heart sank as she read it. Evidently, her father wished to see her in his study at one o’clock. And Amelia could guess what for.
***
Edward bounded up the steps to the Duke of Stafford’s home and banged upon the door, confidence infusing each movement. The summons to the man’s presence was no surprise; certainly that saint, Weston, had tattled. Him or Mrs. Wadham. His Grace would be unhappy, but Edward had met numerous unhappy fathers—brothers too—in the past and had been perfectly able to deal with them. Besides, there had been no untoward intent in his encounter with the duke’s daughter.
Theduke’sdaughter. Edward chuckled as he handed his hat to the butler, an elderly man with jowls extending past his pristinely tied neckcloth. Edward had certainly not expected her to holdthattitle when he had come upon her on the banks of the Serpentine attempting to capture a bonnet she never would have reached. She had seemed so carefree and unassuming, entirely different from other loftily titled women of his acquaintance. That is until she fell into the water. Then she became a spitting cat. Quite the transformation—she ought to be commended.
His thoughts must have conjured her, for at that moment, she appeared in the doorway to his left. He knew the second she recognized he was there, for she pulled up so abruptly he half-expected her to fall back through the doorway from which she’d just come. Her eyes narrowed.
Edward’s grin widened. She was even more beautiful not soaking wet. “Lady Amelia.” He bowed.
She offered a slight curtsy but did not say anything.
He stepped toward her. She stepped back.
A chuckle escaped him as he inclined his head. “I can see I have not made the best impression on you.”
“Do you usually appear in better form than that?”
“Better than startling my new acquaintance into a large body of water? Yes, I do. I would be happy to exhibit it for you.”
As expected, she ignored his latter comment. “Ah, so you admit to having startled me?” She still stood only halfway into the entrance hall, but he saw her eyes flash. Eyes that were decidedly green, which was odd as the day before, he would have sworn they were blue.
He inclined his head yet again, taking the hit. “I suppose I can admit to that small part in our incident.”
Her lips pursed slightly, but instead of turning and leaving, or simpering her understanding, she cocked an eyebrow. “Why am I not surprised to learn you will only accept a small amount of blame?”
My, but she was intriguing. She had fire in abundance, like no woman he’d met before. He cocked a brow of his own. “Because that is the only amount of blame I deserve.”
She opened her mouth to respond—bitingly, if he had to guess—but the butler returned at that moment.
The stiff man glared disapprovingly at the both of them.
The both of them? Why would thisservantlook so severely at a lady of the house? Edward looked questioningly at Lady Amelia, but the flashing eyes were gone, focused now on the floor with her hands clasped in front of her.
“His Grace will see you now.” The butler turned so stiffly Edward thought he heard the man’s hips creak.
