Marjory scanned the room with a determined, worried gaze. Amelia could only hope that she was not looking for a weapon. Letitia sipped her coffee thoughtfully, and Stephen settled back in his seat, casually crossing one leg over the other.
Tiny trotted back over, intending to nose at Stephen’s plate for food. He was firmly pushed away and settled by placing his heavy head on the man’s thigh, staring soulfully up at him with the wistful adoration that only a hungry dog can conjure.
Well, a dog that imagined itself hungry, at any rate.
Stephen ignored him with a steely determination.
“Actually, girls, I have some news,” Amelia managed at last, tossing back her hair. She could feel Stephen’s gaze boring into her back. He was watching her with that unblinking stare, and it burrowed into her skin like an itch. “His Grace has offered me a position.”
“A position?” Nancy echoed at the same time Marjory said, “Apaidposition?”
Amelia decided to ignore Marjory’s question. Carefully setting Nancy down on her feet, she patted her sister’s cheek reassuringly.
“I’m going to stay here for three months and take care of His Grace’s grandmother. I will be her companion.”
Nancy seemed unconvinced. “What does a companion do?”
“I’ll spend time with Her Grace. I’m going to help her with sewing and fit her for new dresses. She’s very entertaining company.”
“It’s true.” Letitia nodded. “I am. And you, ladies, are more than welcome to join us. I imagine your sister would feel more at ease if you were here. When she receives her wages?—”
“Wages?” Stephen interrupted.
His grandmother gave him a wry smile. “But of course, wages. Three months of work must be rewarded. And companions are handsomely paid.”
“I imagine so,” Stephen muttered, trying and failing to push Tiny’s heavy head off his knee. He gave up almost at once, and the dog leaned more heavily into him with a sigh of contentment.
Amelia cleared her throat, meeting Marjory’s eyes first and then Nancy’s. “So you see, there’s no monster at all. The plain fact is that His Grace is offering me a fine opportunity, and we ought to be happy about it.”
Nancy blinked, clearly surprised by this turn of events. However, she was only nine years old, and a nine-year-old girl was more than happy to believe what she was told. Shrugging, she lost interest, turning to inspect the breakfast spread.
Marjory was not so easily convinced. She stared at her sister, her eyes narrowing. “Amelia?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
Amelia moved to stand beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “All is well,” she whispered back, nodding reassuringly. “Please, I don’t want you to worry. I’m safe, and three months of work… well, being Her Grace’s companion will hardly be work.”
Marjory worried her lower lip. “Are… are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” Amelia responded firmly. “Come, let’s sit down and eat some breakfast.”
Marjory glanced at the food again, this time with longing.
“Are you fond of scones?” Letitia asked cheerfully. “There is cream and jam. Perhaps some cake? Or if you prefer something savory, then there is bacon, eggs, toast…”
“I could eat some bacon,” Marjory mumbled, and took a half step toward the table.
Amelia breathed out, glancing over at Stephen’s impassive face.
“But first, Marjory,” she murmured, taking her sister’s elbow. “I think you ought to apologize to His Grace.”
CHAPTER 9
Stephen watched as a maelstrom of emotions flashed across Marjory’s face. Shock, betrayal, anger, understanding, and finally resignation. She glanced up at her sister, as if for reassurance. When Amelia did not yield, she reluctantly turned to Stephen.
Clearing her throat, she tossed back her tangled curls, looking Stephen dead in the eye. “Orio—Your Grace,” she corrected herself swiftly. “I am very?—”
“No apology is necessary,” Stephen interrupted before she could finish. “Your sister is overzealous. I am not offended. A man holding a grudge would not invite his so-called enemies to a feast, would he not? And here I am, inviting you to breakfast. It’s very civilized,” he added, glancing at Amelia and raising his eyebrows.
Amelia’s expression was neutral, unreadable.
