“Oh, is Lady Norwich sharing the latest on-dit?” An excited voice joined their unhappy conversation, and Amelia very nearly groaned. Two of the giggling women had apparently determined Amelia worth conversing withnow.
“Not at—”
“Oh yes, she certainly is. Do tell, Mellie. What exactlyisthe nature of your marriage?” Miss Brooks spoke over her, motioning the ladies to sit.
“Quite the scandal. I would love to know the truth.” A mousy brunette with hard eyes leaned forward.
“You have to tell us now,” the brunette’s friend added, with a sly smile at Miss Brooks.
Amelia had been wrong; the snakes were not within her.
They surrounded her.
And they were out for blood.
Miss Brooks smiled innocently, while her eyes flashed menacingly. So this was the point of her joining Amelia—to embarrass her as she had at dinner. Worse, likely. Dinner must have only been practice. Why, though?
Regardless of the woman’s objective, Amelia recognized the thrown gauntlet and had no intention of losing this fight. Her enemy may be nearly unknown, and she was without an army, but she had the wit to match them all.
And not only that, she had something none of these particular ladies possessed: a husband.
“Well,” she began, pushing back her shoulders and meeting Miss Brooks’s gaze directly, “our marriage is like any other. Though,” she laughed a little, “forgive me, I suppose none of you have much experience with that.”
A few eyebrows raised, and the brunette’s friend even looked a bit abashed, but the battle was far from won.
“Surely that is not all you will share?” Miss Brooks goaded.
“You cannot wish me to share the intimate details of our relationship?” Amelia raised a single brow, confidence filling her. She would not allow this nobody to bully her about any longer.
“Can’t I?” Miss Brooks asked. “When we have such a familiarity?”
“We have no familiarity, you and I,” Amelia shot back, some of the fire that only Edward had managed to fully unearth bubbling to the surface. “We have only a connection through my family.”
“Oh, but we have more of a connection than that.”
The two ladies’ heads swiveled between them, silent. The conversations around them seemed to have hushed as well.
Amelia’s confusion must have shown on her face, because Miss Brooks smiled.
“Can you not guess? Why, your husband of course.”
“He is no connection of yours.” Amelia’s voice quavered somewhat, her fire being smothered by the murderous glare of the woman speaking.
“Quite the contrary. I saw him just this past week.” She looked about their little circle as if sharing a great secret. “We had a wonderful conversation at the White Hart.”
Amelia’s breath caught. Thought fled. She grasped about for something to say, but her wit had deserted her, her entire voice having left with it.
“How scandalous,” the brunette whispered behind her hand to her friend.
“Oh, do not look so sour.” Miss Brooks reached over and patted Amelia’s hand.
Amelia pulled her own back as if bitten. The nerve of the woman! Did she not realize that following this line of conversation would lead to as much scandal for herself as for Amelia? But when Amelia met her eyes, she saw hard, dark depths. The woman was focused only on ruining Amelia. Nothing more. She swept the room with her eyes, seeking something to use as an escape. Henrietta was still deep in conversation across the room with Lady Cheltenham.
But Edith caught her eye... and turned pointedly away.
Amelia was alone.
She breathed through her nose, fighting off a wave of nausea. “I do not know what you intend to imply,” she spoke evenly, though quietly, “but I find myself no longer desirous of your company.”
