“Are you all right? I heard a cry,” Freddy said from the doorway.
The cousins turned, Amelia still nursing her throbbing thumb. She nodded in his direction, sending Mary-Ann an ineffective look to be quiet.
“Amelia stuck a needle through her thumb to distract me from asking questions about her failing marriage.” Mary-Ann smiled mirthlessly. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into her, Cousin Freddy. And once we are done counseling Amelia, we can advise you on that mop on your head.”
Freddy frowned. “Out,” he ordered.
Mary-Ann looked ready to protest, but did as she was told. She lingered for a moment for emphasis in the doorway, then slammed the door shut behind her so hard the house reverberated around them.
“She is a chit to be sure, but she is right about your hair,” Amelia murmured, drawing her feet toward her so her brother could sit at the foot of her chair. “And she will take shears to it in the night if you do not allow Uncle’s valet to groom you first. She told me as much earlier.”
“I happen to quite like my hair like this. But on to more important matters now. I spoke with Uncle Benjamin last night.”
“I heard. As did all of Oxfordshire.”
“This new attitude of yours is most unbecoming.” Freddy’s frown deepened. “He said you appeared out of the blue in an Avon carriage and begged to be taken in—all this while I was out at dinner. Said you gave no reason for this and asked not to be questioned. Why, Amelia? You must tell me if the duke has mistreated you.”
Amelia tucked her thumb in the crook of her knee. “Why must I tell you? Is the plan not for us to abscond to France at the earliest convenience?”
Freddy hushed her emphatically, scooting closer. “Uncle does not yet know what we plan. He must be told delicately when the time is right. And since that time is not rightnow, and your duke will return to Riverside Court and find you missing, I must be told what caused you to leave him in the first place so I can defend you.”
Pushing her embroidery out of her lap, Amelia shot out of her seat and started pacing. She shook her head, refusing to let Freddy see how hurt and embarrassed she was by the whole ordeal.
“You only need to know this,” she said with finality. “Our marriage has been both extremely successful for our purposesand yet has crushed me completely. I cannot remain at Riverside Court another night. And if the Duke of Avon…”
She interrupted herself, so angry she could barely say his name out loud.
“If he comes here looking for me, you will send him away immediately. That is all I ask from you for now.” She raised her eyes resolutely. “I am keeping your secrets.”Louise,Bright Corner—he knew them without her having to say a word. “I only ask that you return my confidence in kind.”
“If that is what you want.”
“It is. Now please…” She scowled at her embroidery. “Throw that thing in the fire. And then you and I will sit down and talk about what is to happen next.”
Whether Freddy agreed or not did not matter. The duke called at Spencer House three times before accepting his defeat. Amelia heard about the visits after the fact from an excitable Mary-Ann, who recounted how her father had forced him to leave with as much restraint as he could muster.
A week had passed since then, and Amelia had been traveling covertly between Spencer House and the orphanage in the days between. Nicholas, if he had tried to catch her at St. George’s,had not been successful. And the play was going ahead as planned that evening at the Jericho Playhouse.
A swarm of excited children rushed past as Amelia put the finishing touches on one of the fairies. Philippa worked beside her in equal concentration, manipulating her actor’s unruly head as the little girl tried to escape her nimble hair-dressing fingers.
“We are almost done,” Philippa sighed, tying the child’s hair into a second braid. “First you fought me over bathing and now you refuse to have your hair brushed. But there, you see?” She turned the little girl toward the mirror behind them. “Beautiful. Lovely. A fairy who does not stink. Now be off with you.”
The child grinned and ran after the rest of their disobedient troupe, her mesh fairy wings flapping behind her. Mr. Marsh and Mrs. Thatcher were on duty nearby, rehearsing lines with the play’s main cast.
In the quiet of the empty dressing room beneath the stage, Amelia placed a hand on her chest and smiled.
“I would be careful,” she heard Philippa say as she began clearing away their equipment. “I have not seen you smile in a week. Your face will crack right down the middle. And wouldn’t that be a shame on a night like this?”
Amelia sighed, turning to help her. “This is a triumphant evening as you said, and I will not have you spoiling it,” she teased in return. “But thank you, Philippa. Your help has been invaluable in this project and more.”
“Oh, hush. I am only here because I love you like a sister all my own.” She slowed, placing a hairbrush gingerly in the trunk lent to them by the playhouse. “Which is why I must ask… These things I am hearing from Mr. Elston concerning you and His Grace… They are not true, are they?”
Frankly, Amelia was surprised it had taken her so long to ask.
“That depends on what you mean,” she replied carefully.
“That you are living with your uncle, for a start. And that the duke has been to call several times, and has each time been sent away by the baron. Amelia, what in heaven’s happened?”
“I…” She heaved a breath. “I do not…”
