Amelia blinked, dragging her gaze up from her untouched plate of food. “I… I didn’t, Letitia. I’m sorry.”
Letitia gave a tut and a smile, not seeming offended. That was something, at least. If she had offended Stephen, at least Letitiastill liked her.
“I was just saying how sweet and genteel Marjory looks. She is a natural, I think. It will serve her well if she intends to write more as she grows older. It’s hard enough for a woman to write, but if she can blend into high society, so much the better.That is, assuming that she does not write under a male name. Personally, I believe the day is coming when ladies can write under their own names. What do you think? I think she could certainly do it.”
Marjory, who was sitting on Letitia’s left, glowed with praise. Amelia noticed that her sister had carefully adopted the same posture as the older woman, teacup raised, ankles crossed.
She bit back a smile. It would do Marjory good to have a grandmother figure to look up to.
“You think I could do it?” Marjory managed a smile. “I could be a real writer?”
“Why, of course,” Letitia laughed. “You’re already doing it, aren’t you? But you don’t need me to reassure you, I’m sure your sister tells you what a wonderful writer you are all the time.”
“She does,” Marjory confessed, shooting an apologetic look at Amelia. “I suppose sometimes I just don’t believe it. Not when it comes from family.”
Letitia winced, nodding. “Yes, it’s a common failing, is it not? The ones we love most can sometimes be the ones we trust least. We don’t believe compliments from our family, or even from our close friends. Somehow, praise always sounds better from strangers.”
“I suppose we imagine that our loved ones are too close to us,” Amelia offered. “That they must be biased.”
“A fatal flaw in us all,” Letitia agreed.
Their conversation was interrupted by Nancy, who was sitting on the ground at the edge of the terrace, trying determinedly to make Dust learn to sit on command.
“Sit.Sit!” she ordered, pointing.
Tiny’s haunches plopped down onto the grass. The cat stared up at her with mild irritation, his tail flicking.
Nancy tutted, sighing. “You can do it, I’m sure you can! See how Tiny does it! Tiny,sit.”
Tiny, who was already sitting, gave a mournful whine and slapped his tail sadly against the grass.
Amelia bit back a smile, shaking her head.
How easily we’ve gotten used to this place. Surely that cannot be a good thing.
The air smelled of rain from all the downpours they’d had over the past few days. At home, when it rained, the water mingled with the filth and rubbish in the streets, creating a vile sort of soup that stunk up the air even more once the rain stopped andthe sun came back out. If it rained hard enough, some of the worst filth might be rinsed away, but it always piled up again.Always.
Here, the air was fresh and clean, smelling of grass and clean rain. Amelia could smell the tang of their well-cooked bacon, mingled with fresh fruits and spicy sausages.
What a pity that one has to be in a duke’s house to breathe deeply in London. Apparently, we are not all entitled to breathe the same air.
Her heart clenched at the thought of returning to their quiet, dingy little home. After all, she might return more quickly than she had expected.
Perhaps Stephen’s seduction last night was what he’d planned all along. Perhaps he’d intended to make me his mistress right from the very start. After all, considering who we are, one might see how he’d believe that I would go along with it.
Her insides tightened, recalling how pleasure had surged through her at Stephen’s touch. She could still feel his lips ghosting across her mouth and down her neck. Sometimes, she even fancied that she could feel his palm sliding down her body, tickling down her ribs, and cupping her hips.
Enough.It will not happen again. It will not.
But if he were offended, all of this could be gone in a moment. It would be best to get the separation over with, of course. She’d miss Letitia, as would Marjory and Nancy, not to mention this place and all the delightful food.
“Amelia?” Letitia’s voice cut into her thoughts again, and Amelia glanced up to find the old woman watching her carefully. “You seem preoccupied. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course,” Amelia managed, offering a faint smile. “I was only wondering why Stephen hasn’t come to talk about the guest list with you, like I told you he would last night.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Stephen does as he likes, as I’m sure you’ve noticed already. I’m sure he’ll join us sooner or… oh, there he is.”
Amelia flinched, stiffening. Her back was turned toward the house, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself by twisting around immediately, like a pet watching its owner return.
