Letitia snorted. “Yes, this is a big house. I forgot how big. We will have to open up all of the rooms for the party, of course, but once things have settled down, we should probably close up some of the extra bedrooms and private parlors. I cannot imagine that we’ll be entertainingthatmany guests.”
She rambled on and on about party plans and which rooms would be closed and which would be left open.
Amelia let her mind drift off, thinking of something else. She picked up another blank invitation card. This one was to be addressed to the Smythe-Truffle family.
What a name.
Her mind conjured up an image of Stephen. She saw him in the carriage quite clearly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring up at her with such intensity that it seemed as though he wanted to eat her.
Worse than that, she wanted tolethim.
“Amelia? Amelia, wake up!”
She flinched, jerking upright, and found Letitia staring at her, laughing.
“We shall have to throw away that invitation,” she remarked, nodding downward.
Amelia glanced down and winced. She had put the nib of her quill to the paper, but had not written or moved it at all. A blob of ink was spreading out from underneath her quill, creeping across the paper and completely ruining the invitation.
Reddening, she lifted her quill. “Forgive me, I was thinking of something else…”
Just don’t ask me what.
“Never mind,” Letitia chuckled. “We don’t need to write out all the invitations today, but I would like to complete the guest list. Now, I asked the butler where Stephen had gone, but he seemed to believe that Stephen had retreated to his room. Would you go to him and ask him briefly who he would like to invite? Take a pencil and a piece of paper.”
“I… Go to his room?”
“Yes, but he has a series of rooms, including a private parlor, so it’s not as if you are knocking on his bedroom door.”
Amelia felt color touch her cheeks. “I don’t know if I should. Could a maid or footman be sent?”
“They’re all preparing dinner,” Letitia said, bending over a blank card. “The staff is rather small at the moment. We came homerather suddenly and didn’t give the poor housekeeper time to hire new people. It will take fifteen minutes or so to wrangle a footman, and even then, Stephen will probably send him off with a flea in his ear. Butyoucould be there and back in five minutes flat, and I know that you won’t take no for an answer. Go on, my dear. Oblige an old woman, won’t you?”
Amelia climbed yet another flight of stairs, huffing and puffing and cursing her own weakness. She should have been firmwith Letitia.
Too late now.
Why on earth did Stephen insist on having his chambers right at the top of the house? Wasn’t an advantage of being the man of the house that he could have his rooms within easy strolling distance? No stairs?
Not for Stephen, of course.
Amelia heaved herself up the fourth flight of stairs, grateful for the footman who’d directed her here. He had given her a strange look, even after she’d casually mentioned that Letitia had sent her.
At the top of the stairs was a carpeted hallway. She turned left as instructed, and there, at the end of the hall, was a door. Stephen’s room.
She squared her shoulders as she approached, breathing deeply.
Echoes of their conversation in the carriage kept rolling around in her mind, and she firmly put them aside. Now was certainly not the time.
Before she could change her mind, Amelia knocked briskly on the door. It was a good knock, firm and loud, but a minute passed without a response. She knocked again, harder, and this time the door jerked open an inch.
Not locked, then. Barely even pushed to. Did that mean he was still inside?
Amelia pushed the door a few more inches and caught a glimpse of a fire crackling merrily in a heavy stone hearth. An empty chair sat before the fire. On a low table beside it were an empty tumbler and a book.
“Your Grace?” she called.
No response.
