Theresa was blushing quite as dark as Amelia knew she herself was. She lifted her cold hands to her cheeks with a nervous laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Theresa insisted, and looked her up and down. “Now, you look lovely and ready to join your father for tea.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said. “I’ll go to him now.”
Theresa waved her off and turned to tidy up her dressing table. Amelia took her leave, heading into the hallway and down the long back stair that would take her to the parlor where her father likely awaited her arrival. He would be cross if she was late, so she scurried through the dim hallways. She was just turning down the last one and could see the parlor door when she came to a stop.
Their family butler, Fielding, was coming her way down the long hallway from the direction of the foyer. And he was not alone. Following him was a very tall, broad-shouldered man. His hair was bound back in a queue and his dark eyes were focused. He had a grim line to his mouth and did not seem to notice her as he followed the butler right into the parlor where her father waited.
She stared as they disappeared. She didn’t know the man. Not that she knew every person her father had a reason to interact with. But she had played hostess in this house for several years and she would have remembered the dark, very handsome stranger who had intruded in their halls.
She turned away from the door at that thought. She was engaged. It was not right to be calling him handsome. Thinking that he was. Noticing it…that was a betrayal, was it not? Certainly she would not want to hear of Aaron ogling some young lady who had come to call on his family.
Not that she had met his family or knew much about them.
She pushed all those jumbled thoughts away and approached the parlor as Fielding exited the room. He met her gaze as he shut the door.
“Good afternoon, Fielding,” she said softly. “Who was that man?”
He glanced over his shoulder, and for a moment she saw a nervous expression cross over the normally implacable butler’s face. “The Duke of Brighthollow, miss,” he said. “He arrived unexpectedly to see your father.”
“A duke?” Amelia repeated as she stared at the shut door. “How curious.”
Of course her father knew dukes—he’d taken her to plenty of balls and gatherings where those of rank were in attendance. But there was a marked difference between a lesser viscount and a man of such status. Normally they didn’t call.
“Quite, my lady,” Fielding said.
“Well, I assume that means my father will be busy for tea.”
“I believe so, Miss Amelia. I shall have a tray sent to the blue parlor if you’d like.”
She nodded. “Thank you, that would be perfect.”
The butler executed a smart bow and then hustled off to take care of his business. Amelia stared at the door. It was too thick to hear anything that was going on inside, of course. Not that it was a ladylike thing to eavesdrop. She sighed and turned to take herself to the other parlor for her tea.
Whatever this duke wanted with her father, certainly she would hear about it soon enough. And in the end, it probably wasn’t a visit of any consequence anyway. Nothing to do with her and nothing that would make any kind of difference in her already planned out life.
Hugh sat in a comfortable chair across from Lord Quinton, watching as the man poured them each a drink. He was having a hard time reading the man he had come to call upon. All he could truly tell about Quinton was that he was surprised to be visited by a man addressed as Your Grace.
And why wouldn’t he be? Hugh had spent the day since he discovered Aaron Walters’ engagement researching the family of the lady in question. Lord Quinton’s line was not a very important one and it was attached to only a modest fortune. He was part of Society, of course, but he tended to mix mostly with those of a slightly lower rank.
Perhaps that was why Walters had chosen them. To marry the viscount’s daughter was certainly an elevation for him, but not one that would cause too much of a stir as he began his pretended courtship of the lady.
Hugh swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat every time he thought of that bastard and forced a smile as Quinton brought him sherry.
“I thought you might want something a bit stronger than tea,” Quinton explained as he settled into the seat near Hugh’s. He looked confused, but not particularly nervous at present. He wasn’t a large man. In fact, he was rather thin and hawkish in his appearance.
A short bit of silence thickened the air between them. “While I am honored at your unexpected arrival, Your Grace, and welcome you wholeheartedly to my home, I do admit I wonder what you could want,” Quinton said at last.
Hugh felt the corner of his lips quirk slightly. “So you are a direct man. Certainly I appreciate that. I shall be as direct.” He cleared his throat. “Recently I have heard rumors that your daughter…Amelia is her name, yes?”
Quinton’s brow wrinkled in deeper confusion. “Yes, Amelia is my only child.”
Hugh jerked out a curt nod. “Very good. I have heard rumors of her recent engagement to a—” He broke off for he was not about to call her fiancé a gentleman. “—apersonnamed Aaron Walters.”
Quinton’s face faltered and annoyance flared in his eyes. “That girl. I give her one directive, to keep quiet, and she chatters incessantly like a foolish romantic. Where did you hear this rumor?”
Hugh narrowed his eyes at the dismissive way the man referred to his daughter. There was little affection there, it seemed. Could that mean this Amelia was even less protected than his own sister had been? After all, Hugh adored Lizzie—he was quick to protect her.
