Though Beatrice had other plans.
As soon as they were alone, she shuffled across the carriage to sit beside her niece, grooming her just like she had groomed Mary-Ann.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, my dove?” Beatrice asked, looping a ringlet of Amelia’s brown hair around her gloved finger. She let it fall back in place and chucked Amelia’s chin. “You are a brave girl coming out tonight. I know you much prefer to remain by yourself.”
Feeling a little patronized, Amelia merely smiled. “It is no trouble. I am excited to see the Bodleian.”
Beatrice ignored her. “Mary-Ann—though I love the bones of that girl—has a tyrannous way with you, I know. I saw how she wore you down over this ball, saying it was necessary for both her sake and yours that you come. We would not have been crosswith you if you had refused her appeals. Your life is yours to lead as you see fit, dearest. Have I not always made that clear?”
“You have, Aunt Beatrice,” Amelia said. She took her aunt’s hand in hers. “But I am not nearly as fragile as you believe me to be, and an evening well-surrounded will not tire me so. If I feel myself growing weary, I shall retreat at once into a quiet corner—or into the carriage with Uncle Benjamin.”
“And you work yourself much too hard at that house...” Beatrice frowned.
“I enjoy my time there,” Amelia assured her in vain.
“What I mean to say,” Beatrice continued, “is that I love you very much. We will write Freddy at the Pension Espoir again and see whether he has made progress. He would be so proud of you tonight.” She kissed Amelia’s forehead and admired her. “Oh, how much you look like your father...”
The mention of Amelia’s father made her uneasy. She swallowed sharply and feigned a smile. Her memory was fickle at the best of times, but she would never forget her father’s face. She knew they bore a striking resemblance—wondered if that was why Beatrice doted on her so much.
“My dear departed brother, and your poor mother too...” She kissed Amelia again. “Should anyone mention them to you tonight, you must come directly to me, Amelia. Promise.”
“I promise I will,” Amelia replied, unsettled.
But once the carriage finally parked before the Bodleian twenty minutes later, the promise was a long-forgotten dream.
The events of that event, as Amelia would soon discover, were well outside the control of even steadfast Beatrice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nicholas was no stranger to the Bodleian Library.
Every visit reaffirmed his admiration for the place, the library proving even more majestic indoors than it looked from the outside, if that were possible. He waited in the queue of guests for the master of ceremonies to announce him that evening, glancing through the tall, gilded archway into the busy room beyond.
“If I am remembering correctly,” Samuel whispered beside him, “it was at a place not unlike this that I attended my first ball. Do you remember that night?Montagu Housein London?”
“Oh, vaguely,” Nicholas replied absently, unfolding his invitation.
“Father would have kept me on leading strings had he not feared making a laughingstock of the family. He should have feared letting me have free rein instead. Left to my own devices...”Samuel whistled, looking around. “I believe I took oneMiss Katiaoff the dancefloor and into an upstairs reading room before the ice had melted in the punch. Andyouwere not much better—”
“You would be kind to refrain from such activities tonight,” Nicholas interjected, still peering through the crowd. “Or I will devise some makeshift leading strings and do what our father could not to reel you in.”
“So serious is the Duke of Avon this evening,” Samuel teased. “Not like you at all. Tell me, now that we are together again, might I expect a return to form soon, or is this maudlin gentleman to be your character forevermore?”
“I beg your pardon?” Nicholas guffawed.
“You know what I mean. Go on then, brother—is it?”
“I have not yet decided,” Nicholas said with playful levity. “Though I would hardly call myselfmaudlin.” He abandoned his search of the ballroom and adjusted the lapels of his coat. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he must… reassess the course of it.”
“Ah,” Samuel said with a knowing tone. “You mean to say, though you dare not, that you have landed yourself in such a pickle back home that you must make a monk of yourself while you are here in Oxford. Poor,poorbrother. Not maudlin, no.Tragic.”
When Nicholas ignored him, not wanting to encourage Samuel, his brother soon grew bored of the topic.
“What drew your attention indoors?” Samuel asked after a beat. He nodded to the ballroom up ahead, having a slightly worse view than Nicholas because of his shorter height. “You were looking into the archway with those determined eyes of yours. Searching for someone in particular?”
Nicholas ignored his brother, knowing that the mere mention of his fears would keep Samuel entertained all evening.
But it would be in my best interest to determine quickly who is here, he thought, smiling politely as the master of ceremonies took their invitations and announced them.Not everyone will be accepting of Samuel and I—and it would be wise not to cause any trouble until I can determine how long I must remain trapped here in Oxfordshire.
