Amelia was surprised into laughter. “Oh dear, Edith finds freckles abhorrent! I cannot say it negates my nerves surrounding the evening, but I appreciate your lightening my mood.”
Mary fetched Amelia’s reticule, and they descended the stairs.
The carriage was ready, the footman on hand to assist her and Mary in, and there was absolutely no reason for delay. Yet, Amelia still hesitated in the hall.
“My lady?”
Amelia turned to Mary’s questioning look. “I do not know what it is, Mary, but I cannot shake this feeling of uneasiness.”
“It is only nerves, my lady, to be sure.” But even Mary did not look entirely convinced. “But if you... if you wish, we could send a note ’round with your regrets.” Her intonation turned up at the end of the suggestion, turning it into a question.
“No, no, I cannot do that, it would be a great insult to my family and would not help the gossip in the least. I shall go. I simply need a moment.”
“Of course, my lady.” Mary folded her hands in front of her to wait.
Coombs kindly slipped from the room.
Amelia took a steadying breath. If only Edward were here. He might have managed to make her laugh, distracted her with an overdone compliment, or at the very least, gotten a flower stuck in her hair and provided a true excuse to miss the dinner party.
Her mouth turned up at the recollection.
Funny that he was able to have that effect on her even in his absence.
She pressed her lips together, resolved to see this evening through. Then she would simply hole up in the house with her pianoforte and the servants until Edward returned. And perhaps a tonic, if this headache did not subside.
“I am ready, Mary.”
“Very good, my lady.” Mary smiled at her as they exited the house together.
***
“Mellie, how wonderful it is to see you so soon after our last meeting.”
Amelia accepted Edith’s feather-light embrace with only a slight grimace. As she pulled back, she surreptitiously glanced around the room. Thanks to her delay, she was one of the last to arrive at the dinner party. Various groupings of people—maybe two dozen persons in total—mingled about the drawing room. Amelia recognized Henrietta and Sir Frederick in discussion partway into the room but hadn’t time to survey any of the other faces before Edith captured her attention again.
“Now, I need not remind you that your actions this evening reflect on Papa and I. You will recall your manners, I presume?” She made no mention of Henrietta, who was the true person for whom Amelia would be on her best behavior.
“I shall be the picture of propriety, Edith.”
“Splendid.” She had not caught Amelia’s restrained tone as she smiled around at her guests. “Now, allow me to introduce you to our party members.”
Six or seven introductions later, dinner was announced. Amelia was led in after her sisters, having gone down in rank through her marriage.
She did not mind, as it meant she could not see Edith’s acidic glare.
Once seated, Amelia was surprised to find herself on the other end of the table from her family. While she did not mind the separation, she did see the slight it held. She may have gone down in rank from her sisters, but hardly enough to elicit this breadth of a gap.
She was not the only one to notice, if the puzzled look from the Marchioness of Cheltenham or the barely withheld smile from the Countess of Shaftesbury was any indication. But she refused to show her own discomfort, turning instead to greet her dinner partners. Only this discovery was nearly as unsettling as the seating arrangements. To her right was Sir Frederick. And on his other side, the only woman Amelia would like more distance from than Edith.
“Dear Mellie,” Miss Brooks began, speaking around Sir Frederick as they were served the first course. “You do not mind that I call you Mellie, do you? We are, after all, nearly family. I feel I know your entire history, given my close acquaintance with your sisters.”
Amelia could not very well refuse the familiarity without appearing cruel, so she only murmured, “Not in the least,” although the only thing worse than her childhood nickname was Miss Brooks using it.
“Delightful!” Miss Brooks clapped her hands together with practiced glee. “Now, tell me, did you truly lose yourself in the country, only to turn up stuck in a tree, having been chased there by a neighbor’s dog?”
Amelia clenched her teeth, well aware of the surprised look on Sir Frederick’s face. “Yes, indeed that was me.”
“And you were, what, fourteen? Fifteen?”
