Chapter Fifteen
Lady Amelia Brimley
My parents were sitting in their customary spots, Father with his puzzle and Mother at her needlepoint. She looked up and frowned at my hand on Oliver’s arm. She’d wanted me to convince Noah to marry me. Once she learned the truth, I had a sense she’d not be happy.
“Mother, Father, I have good news,” I said, my voice breathy.
Both parents stared at me, expectation on Father’s face, dread on Mother’s.
Oliver cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his nervousness. “Lady Amelia has accepted my proposal of marriage,” he said. The uncertainty he’d carried since I’d come to call on him had continued to cast a shade on my happiness. I loved him and wished to see him happy. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel horrible.
“Excellent news, your grace, excellent news,” My father said. He stood and, hand outstretched, shook Oliver’s. The two men couldn’t be more contrasting. My father was a little below average height, while Oliver stood a good head taller than him.
“I suppose you’ve told your grandmother,” Mother said, her mouth pinched, resignation in her gaze. With her hair pulled back in a severe bun, she looked very formidable. Before Sally’s death, she’d taken great pains with her appearance and favored white. Although she’d been officially out of mourning, she stillwore stark black. After learning what I had, I could understand her melancholy.
“Yes, my lady, I have.” Oliver’s smile dropped, and he swallowed again, tension stiffening his shoulders. She wasn’t going to make this easy on either of us. My resentment toward her increased, and I straightened my back, determined to ignore her ill humor. This was my engagement announcement, and by rights, she should be enthusiastic about the news of her daughter marrying a duke.
“Let us sit down,” my father said, indicating two chairs by the fire. Noah and I often sat in them while discussing the events of the day. I wish he’d stayed with us, but this was something we needed to do on our own. “Would you like a brandy, young man?”
“Yes, please.” Oliver kept his regard on my father, a smart move on his part. After his father had died, he’d sought my father’s counsel. While my father’s title was prestigious, as a duke, Oliver outranked him.
“I’ll have a sherry,” I said, unsure if it were wise. The last time I’d overindulged, I’d seduced Noah. Yet I needed fortification.
The footman on duty poured the drinks while Father resumed his seat at the puzzle table. He’d sat at that very table while telling Mother to forget about Sally’s cause of death. I hadn’t been successful at finding the diary in any of my sister’s usual hiding places. Either she destroyed it, or Noah had done something with it.
“I am very pleased you two are engaged at last.” Father accepted the brandy glass from the servant.
Come Sunday, my entire world would be different. I would be moving into my own home and sleeping close to Oliver, able to kiss him and do more delightful things. I waited until the footman handed me my glass before I exhaled a long, pent-up breath.
“I’m afraid the circumstances surrounding our engagement aren’t the best.” Without glancing at Oliver, I tried to keep myself composed. After sipping the wine, I clutched the stem of the glass. “Lady Gwendolyn isn’t well, and she has asked us to expedite the wedding so that she can see us wed before, um, before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Father’s smile faltered, and he palmed the glass in his palms. “I wasn’t aware she was that ill.”
“None of us were.” Oliver drank deeply from his glass, upset pinching his lips. I linked my fingers through his and squeezed, offering him support.
“She has asked us to procure a special license and wed as soon as possible,” I said.
“How soon?” Mother asked.
Trying not to cringe at what her reaction would be, I uttered, “On Sunday.”
Father shot a look at Mother. “This Sunday?”
“Yes, this Sunday,” Oliver said in a more forceful tone. His initial nervousness was evaporating, and he was more himself. “Grandmama said a month, but Amelia and I decided it might be better if we married as soon as possible.”
“Of course, of course. Your grandmother would wish to see her grandson wed.” Father nodded at his own statement. He was a devoted son to my own grandmother, who lived in Yorkshire.
“Do you have any objections?” Oliver asked.
Mother snorted, and I glared at her, sending her a silent rebuke before I chanced a glance at Oliver. By the slight flexing of his jaw, he’d noticed her rude gesture.
“No, we have no objections, do we, Ellen?” Father asked with a pointed stare. His defense of me warmed my heart.
