The girls exchanged looks across her, and Amelia’s nerves rose.
“Oh. That. Well...” Miss Fawcet looked at Henrietta.
“It is nothing, I’m sure,” Henrietta added.
“What is nothing?” Amelia was grateful her concern did not bleed into her voice. Mostly.
Miss Fawcet began to look toward the other side of the room, then seemed to think better of it.
Henrietta sighed. “It is only that Miss Brooks is recently returned from the country.”
“Yes.” Amelia drew out the word. “Edith said as much.”
“And, well, she was there for an extended amount of time.”
Amelia said nothing, awaiting the explanation with a painfully beating heart.
“Oh, very well.” Henrietta sighed again, apparently resigned. “Miss Brooks was required to convalesce in the country to await the settling of a number of rumors. Rumors surrounding her and Lord Norwich. Your... your husband.”
“Oh.”
Amelia felt the revelation more than she heard it, and it hurt. Any mention of her husband’s past caused pain, but this one more so. Perhaps because it was being thrown in her face by the lady in question. Or perhaps because of the lack of care Edith and Papa were showing by inviting the woman into their home.
Or, more likely, because her heart was fully involved now. And this knowledge added another weight to what the poor organ was carrying. What was she to do with that?
Amelia glanced discreetly at Miss Brooks. She was quite beautiful, if you could get past the sneer on her face.
“She is a vapid woman, Lady Norwich, truly terrible,” Miss Fawcet offered.
“Indeed. I do not know why Edith was ever friends with her or why she determined to renew the acquaintance now, of all times,” Henrietta added.
Amelia grasped this information, using it to distract herself from the beautiful woman still shooting her looks across the room. “Were they not corresponding while Miss Brooks was in the country?”
“Not that I am aware of. I believe Edith first sent a letter two or three weeks ago, though I know not what elicited the missive. I suppose they may have corresponded before, but Edith never mentioned it. And she regales me with her many letters from her many friends almost daily.”
“How unfeeling of her,” Miss Fawcet added to Henrietta’s words, “to invite her here knowing her past with her own sister’s husband. Odd, if you ask me.” She looked at Amelia, suddenly alarmed. “Not that you did ask me... I am so sorry. This must be a horrible conversation to be having. Would you like to—oh look! Sir Frederick.”
Both Amelia and Henrietta followed Miss Fawcet’s gaze to the doorway, where, in fact, a gentleman had just stepped in. He was as Edward had said, appearing older than Amelia’s husband and not necessarily handsome. But he had kind eyes, a strong jaw, and an aura of confident ease.
His eyes found Henrietta’s and fairly lit up. And that was enough for Amelia to approve of him.
With sure steps, he came to Henrietta’s side, bowing over her hand as she stood to receive him. Edith and her friends had hardly flicked a glance in their direction, but Sir Frederick did not seem to notice.
“Lady Henrietta.” He kissed her hand, and Henrietta blushed prettily.
“Sir Frederick. I hope you are well?”
“Fine indeed. And yourself?”
“Perfectly splendid.”
They watched each other a moment, seemingly each lost in thought as they stared into each other’s eyes, before Henrietta suddenly startled to attention, pulling her hand from Sir Frederick’s grasp. She turned to Amelia.
“Sir Frederick, might I introduce to you my younger sister, the Countess of Norwich?”
“How do you do?” Sir Frederick bowed promptly.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”
