In Stephen’s experience, it was unusual to meet a lady of her age with such a high guard. Ladies of her age were, of course, taught to behave and follow the stringent rules of Society. However, they were not taught any form of guile. Many of the ladies Stephen had met did not even realize others could read their expressions. They had no talent for deceit, no need to conceal their feelings.
He wondered briefly what sort of life Amelia had led to force her into such carefulness. She spoke and carried herself like a lady, but he knew she lacked the status and money tolivelike one.
Dragging his gaze away from her impassive face, he glanced back down at Marjory, who was regarding him with hesitant hope mingled with a hefty dose of wariness.
Clever girl.Trust no one. Words can be very pretty, but that is all they are at the end of the day—words.
“Are you certain?” she ventured. “I did not mean to insult you. Or to bring Tiny into your house without permission. Or to punch your footman in the stomach,” she added as an afterthought.
A small smile crossed Stephen’s face, hastily restrained. He glanced over at his grandmother, who didn’t bother to hide heramusement.
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “Please, consider this your home for the next few months. Take a seat, Miss Spectacles. And you, Miss Nancy.”
Nancy required little to no urging. She scampered delightedly over to the table, peering at the goodies laden there. Letitia urged the little girl to take a seat beside her and began piling food on her plate.
Marjory glanced back at her older sister once more, and when Amelia gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, she brightened.
“Come. Miss Marjory, is it? Sit beside me,” Letitia urged, patting the seat on her other side. “We’re thrilled to have guests. It’s been too long since I had young people in the house. Would you care for some scrambled eggs?”
Stephen turned away from the table. He could trust his grandmother to amuse the girls, for a while at least. “Miss Amelia, would you care to join me in my study? We have things to discuss, you and I.”
Amelia watched him carefully, her face as unreadable as always.
Why did it bother him immensely? Why did he care that he could not guess what she was thinking? It didn’tmatterwhat she was thinking.
That last thought rang in his head, as wrong as a discord.
Ignoring it, Stephen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Amelia’s response.
“Of course,” she uttered, her words as flat as cardboard.
Whatever she was thinking at that moment, it stayed safely hidden in her head.
She followed him out of the breakfast room. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery on plates followed them. When Stephen glanced over his shoulder, pulling the door closed behind him, he caught a glimpse of Marjory’s anxious gaze following her sister.
“It’s kind of you to invite my sisters here,” Amelia said, breaking the silence first. “I’m glad to see them. Marjory in particular would have been worried. Nancy is of the age where she believes that everything will be all right, and that the grown-ups around her will manage matters.”
Stephen snorted. “What a terrifying thought.”
“Yes, it is terrifying now thatweare the grown-ups. When I was her age, I also believed that my mother and father had everything in hand. I see now that they never did, and imagining thatanybodyhas control of their lives is nothing but foolishness.”
He led the way down the corridor to a wide, iron-studded door that yawned deep in the wall. It was a remarkably old door, one that ought to be at the front of a castle or perhaps a medieval palace. Beyond the door lay Stephen’s study. He gestured for Amelia to step before him into the room, aware of a twinge of embarrassment at the mess.
“Goodness,” she remarked, after a moment’s silence. “It’s as though I’m onboard a ship.”
Stephen clenched his jaw, scanning the familiar space. “If it were a cabin, the weight of all this nonsense would sink it,” he responded tartly. “Sit down.”
She glanced around at the various chairs, all piled with boxes, books, trinkets, and more. “Where?”
Biting back a sigh, Stephen swept a pile of books off the seat nearest his desk and gestured for her to take it.
It was true, his study was remarkably cluttered. Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with books, maps, manuscripts, and more. Pictures crowded any spare wall space. And then there were his trinkets, souvenirs, and the like.
There was a box of unusual, pretty rocks on the chair near the empty fireplace, and he knew well there were at least two more such boxes. Where he had run out of shelves, his books were piled haphazardly on the ground, near to toppling over in places.
Where did I even manage to acquire all of these things?
It didn’t matter. Stephen had no intention of being parted from them, and it wasn’t as if Amelia would be joining him in his study very often.
