“No. Your brother owns it, then?”
Another surprise. “Yes. But he is not in England, and we do not know when he shall return.” When Nicholas remained silent, she continued. “He left for France two years ago on a personal errand.”
“Apersonal errand?” His voice was tinged with sarcasm. “A much mysterious young man.”
“That is rich coming from you,” Amelia whispered beneath her breath. “I believe you shall like Freddy, if the two of you chance to meet. Though by the time he returns to England, you and I will likely have parted ways.”
“In which case, he shall not like me at all.”
“No,” Amelia agreed, though it pained her to think of the future. “Likely not.”
Moving to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, Amelia scanned the contents of the reading room until she came uponA Father’s Legacy to His Daughters, which she had read under her governess, though she could not remember a thing about the book in great detail.
Careful not to make too much noise, she sat in the chair beside Nicholas. To her surprise, he was watching her and not being subtle about it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I was merely considering the next few weeks,” he murmured, leaning over to pour her a glass of water from the carafe beside him. She glimpsed the cover of his own book: something by John Locke. “How we should…behavewith one another while this marriage lasts.”
One another, Amelia repeated in her mind. Why did that necessary grouping of man and wife make her body tingle in trepidation? Perhaps it was the impermanence of their arrangement. Not knowing when exactly he would tire of her and call for the annulment.
Not knowing how she would feel when it happened.
“Already we have received a plague of invites to events both here and in London. Word has traveled fast of our marriage.”
“How pleased you must be,” she said, her tone bitter.
He ignored her. “It would be in our interest to be seen frequently in public. And before you send another scathing remark my way, no—I do not expect you to behave like a madwoman while we are around others. Your presence alone is satisfactory. And should we enjoy ourselves for these next few weeks, so be it.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Nicholas shrugged. “I shall allow you to select from the invites. Though naturally, nothing in London.”
Amelia grew quiet at the reference to London—his earlier mention of aloverringing in her ears. Nicholas extended her the glass of water.
She took it, nausea rising within her.
But her hands trembled, met clumsily with his, and the glass slipped from her grasp onto her night clothes, then tumbled onto the carpet below with a softthud.
Amelia rose in shock, the front of her dressing gown soaked through with water. Lifting out of her seat, she felt Nicholas move at the same time, reaching for the book she had chosen, which was now ruined.
“It is all right,” he assured her emphatically, taking the now-dripping book and setting it down. “The glass did not break either.”
“No, but… Oh, this is awful. That poor book!”
Not thinking, she grabbed the book from him. She removed her wet dressing gown, hating the feeling of the soaked fabric against her skin where it clung to her stomach. Stepping away from the chair, she used her sleeve to dry the book. It was no use. The pages were already waterlogged.
Fighting a sob, she looked at Nicholas, who had leaned over to collect the glass.
He froze on the way up, his eyes widening at her.
Her breath came out as a shudder as she stared vainly down at the book. She set it down and clutched her arms around herself in shame, then moved quickly to the door, leaving her dressing gown where she had abandoned it.
“Wait, Amelia!” Nicholas said, putting down the glass and following her.
She paused on command, turning in the doorway, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. The night air felt colder by the second, and she blushed as her nipples hardened beneath her chemise.
“It is only a book,” he pressed softly. “Do not flee me.”
