“You make it sound as if you want a bride in name only.”
The earl’s shrug was not reassuring, as if a new marriage wasn’t at all important to him. But she felt certain that he could learn to love someone.
“Margaret is very sensible and would make a steady wife, one who would never get into trouble,” Amelia informed him. “She’d also take good care of your daughter. I know she wants children.”
And you need an heir, she thought.
The earl slowed his pace. “That may be. But does she want to marry, after what happened?”
“She does,” Amelia told him. “And I think you’re the sort of man she should have wed a long time ago. You seem kind enough, on the surface.”
He stopped walking. “You make it sound as if I’m a beast, hiding my true nature.”
She stood to regard him. Lord Castledon’s blue eyes were like a glacier, hiding every trace of emotion. “I don’t think you’re a beast. But I do think you’re hiding the man you are.”
He’d been stoic for so many years, practically a statue within the assemblies and balls. Sometimes she wondered why he’d even attended. Had he always been this way? Amelia struggled to remember if she’d ever seen him with his wife, so many years ago. She didn’t think so.
From his demeanor, others likely believed he was a dreadful bore. But the truth was, she’d found his dry wit quite entertaining. For years, when she’d been only sixteen, too young to dance or to be courted, he’d been the shadow behind her.
She wanted him to have a true marriage, not one made of words and no substance. One where he could be happy once more.
The earl was saved from answering when they reached the carriage. He helped Amelia into the landau and greeted Margaret. “Miss Andrews.”
“Lord Castledon, thank you for agreeing to accompany us. It was very kind of you.” Her sister was wearing a cream gown trimmed with lilac ribbon, and she moved over to make room for them. “Amelia told me that you kept your wager, about choosing waistcoats in different colors,” Margaret ventured with an amused smile. “What colors did you select?”
“Your sister chose them,” he admitted. “Thankfully, she refrained from pink or purple.”
“Thistime, I did.” Amelia pasted a smile on her face and sat beside her sister, across from Lord Castledon. She decided it would be best to remain quiet for the rest of the drive, in the hopes that Margaret and the earl would find a topic about which to converse.
They did begin speaking about the weather, but it wasn’t at all interesting. She bit her lip and touched the earl’s foot with her own, hoping he would take the hint to help things along. Her kick resulted in the earl lightly stepping on her foot.
Lord Castledon continued talking with Margaret, and all the while, Amelia’s toes were trapped under his shoe. She glared at him, but the slight smile on his face revealed that he didn’t care at all. He was doing this on purpose.
“Did you need something, Miss Amelia?” the earl inquired.
“Yes. I should like my foot back, if it wouldn’t trouble you.”
“How careless of me,” Lord Castledon remarked, but the look he sent her was quite deliberate.
Her matchmaking efforts weren’t working at all. The earl and Margaret might have been brother and sister to an onlooker, for there was an utter lack of romantic interest. Something had to be done, and Amelia decided he needed intervention. “Lord Castledon, surely you know of a more interesting conversational topic than the weather?”
Margaret exchanged another amused look with Lord Castledon. “Actually, he is correct. To discuss anything else would be most improper.”
Oh, for the love of handkerchiefs. Her sister wasnothelping, and moreover, she didn’t appear to care.
“No one is interested in the weather,” Amelia insisted. “It’s a conversational topic used as a last measure, when you have nothing else to say.”
“Then what do you believe we should discuss?”
Amelia sighed. “Perhaps a good book you’ve read. Or places you’ve visited.”
“I don’t read,” Lord Castledon said. There was a spark of mischief in his blue eyes, and he added, “It’s too taxing upon my brain.”
He might as well have thrown down a gauntlet with the way he was mocking her. She knew very well that he could read. “Then whatdoyou do with your time?”
“I stare at the wall.” His voice was monotone, and Amelia wished that she could throw something at him. He was deliberately fighting against her attempts to match him with her sister.
Margaret was biting her lip hard, to keep from laughing. “I do that sometimes, too. Especially when I’m trying to keep from murdering an interfering younger sister.”
