She was greeted by a wave of warmth and light. The table was laden with food, a banquet just like the breakfast spread. The footmen were in the process of serving wine. At least, they wereserving wine to Letitia and Stephen, who sat at the head of the table. Marjory was receiving averysmall amount of wine, mixed heavily with water, and Nancy had what appeared to be a glass of milk.
“Ah, there you are,” Letitia greeted. “Come on in, my dear. I have a seat for you here. We’re having soup for the first course, naturally, and the most delicious roast partridge for the main course. It’s my favorite fowl, you know.”
Amelia took her seat, smiling wanly. Where had her nerves come from? Anxiety bubbled in the pit of her stomach, which seemed truly ridiculous. It was only dinner, after all.
Soup was served. Nancy wrinkled her nose, but Marjory dug in with delight, only slurping occasionally. Letitia kept up a steady, easy stream of chatter, and Amelia found her mind drifting away.
Her gaze was drawn, again and again, to the man at the head of the table.
Stephen stayed quiet, not reacting at all to the chatter around him. He seemed even broader and taller than usual in a plain, understated black suit. The only drop of color on his form was the glittering red of a cravat pin, half-hidden in the folds of linen. When he turned his head, letting the candlelight play over the left side of his face, she saw a mottled bruise following the line of his cheekbone.
It was too much. Amelia could not hold back a ragged gasp. Unfortunately for her, it came during a moment of silence. Letitia and her sisters glanced up at her, and Stephen’s head snapped to her.
“I… I’m sorry,” Amelia stammered, cheeks burning. “But you have a terrible bruise on your face, Your Grace.”
He blinked slowly. “It is hardlyterrible. I have had worse.”
“How did you get it?”
“Boxing,” he responded coolly. “A friendly game, don’t worry.”
Was he angry with her? Amelia was not sure.
She nibbled on her lower lip, watching him curiously. He had certainly seemed surprised to see her in the hallway after he had been talking to Nancy. She still had not received a straight answer about the carnage in the foyer. Nancy had said something about Tiny and Dust making friends, but Amelia saw no friendshipin the shattered remains of those vases.
“I would hate to see what an unfriendly game looks like, then,” she heard herself say after a long pause.
The corner of his lip twitched, as if he wanted to smile but was holding back.
“Then, if I engage in an unfriendly game, I shall be sure to hide the results from you,” he answered, a hint of amusement in his voice.
To mask her uncertainty—and perhaps to calm her nerves—Amelia lifted her wine glass to her lips. It had a rich, full taste, much better than the watery wine she and Mama used to drink with dinner—this was, of course, when they could affordwine—and it swirled in her empty stomach.
“Some new dresses are planned,” Letitia announced, after a few moments of silence. “Amelia has taken my measurements. We shall be going shopping tomorrow to procure some fabric and take a look at some designs. You should come with us, Stephen.”
He chuckled. “I think not. But I hope you all have a pleasant time.”
Amelia set down her glass carefully. He had said nothing about her being restricted to the house. Did that mean he would allow her to go?
Should I risk an escape? Where would I even go?
She did not have the answer to that question. Not yet, at least.
“Tomorrow is not an ideal day, however,” Stephen added.
Amelia’s heart sank.
I knew it! He won’t let me go.
“Oh? What’s happening tomorrow?” Letitia prompted.
Stephen took a long sip of his wine. “We are moving to the manor.”
That seemed to invigorate Letitia. She threw a pleased smile at her grandson, as if he had said exactly what she hoped to hear.
“What is the manor?” Nancy piped up.
“I am speaking of Redcliffe Manor,” Stephen explained. “It is the family seat. It’s a larger and finer house than this place, and I think you will like it very much. You and Miss Spectacles might have your own rooms, if you like, Nancy.”
