As the laces loosened, she nearly collapsed in relief. But that feeling was fleeting.
She hated wearing stays! The thought rose up in her like a flame doused with spirits. Her heart pounded in her ears and it felt like the room was going to close in on her.
Why were they doing this to her? Why did they do it to anyone?
Tempted to unleash a few of the choice words she’d uttered the first night she’d been abducted, the timely arrival of their dinner kept her from doing so.
As a heartbroken person, she’d have imagined she would have lost her appetite, but it seemed just the opposite was true. She hadn’t eaten anything all day!
Two filled trays had been delivered, one with two pots of hot water and teacups, and the other with steaming potatoes and a savory meat stew that actually made Amelia’s mouth water.
The interruption provided enough time for Amelia’s temper to cool. Of course, the pleasant smell and the prospect of a good dinner may have helped as well. She would be civil—or try, anyway.
None of this was Miss Henrietta’s fault, really. Like every other woman in this world, the maid was subject to a certain set of rules—in this particular case, her employer’s.
Amelia’s mother.
As if to test her resolve, however, the moment Amelia went to take a forkful, Miss Henrietta slapped her hand away.
“This won’t do. This won’t do at all.” The maid immediately began re-covering the plates, clucking her tongue in disapproval.
“But… It seems perfectly lovely.” Amelia stared at the covered dishes longingly.
“Not for you, it isn’t.” Disregarding Amelia’s protest, the older woman was already carrying the tray toward the door. “Open it for me, will you? I’ll be back with a few greens.”
Amelia didn’t move.
“The door, please, my lady?”
“I—But—” Amelia floundered but did as she was asked. And then, standing in the doorway in her buttoned-up nightrail and dressing gown, she watched Miss Henrietta scurry away.
For all that had happened, nothing had changed. Amelia would wear the same stifling clothing. She’d have the same boring conversations. Every minute of her days would be planned out by her mother—until she was married, that was. And after that, she’d have to defer to her husband.
To Lord Northwoods.
Her appetite, which had been voracious a few minutes before, did in fact disappear at the thought.
MR. TOAD
He ought to be relieved.
It was over. She wasn’t his responsibility anymore.
Instead, he was irritated. And even long after Winterhope’s parade of ostentatiousness drove away, that irritation only grew.
Back in his study, he read over the same inventory report three times without comprehending a single word.
She had thanked him in a cool voice, almost as though she was embarrassed to acknowledge him. “You must be happy to have successfully completed your mission,”she had said.
And then she’d dropped into a sodding curtsey!
Who did she think he was?
Leopold dropped his head onto one hand, resting his elbow on the desk.
He hadn’t done any better. The mere sight of her looking so… fucking lady-like…
Fuck.
