“Are you well, Mother?” Mariel’s caring question brought their attention to the fact that it was rare for their mother to rest in the afternoon.
“I’m fine, just a bit tired. I’m older than you three and can no longer play games until almost dawn.”
Joanna grinned as they all recalled the games of the night before. “And you did so with such gracious aplomb.”
“Well, there are some advantages to being older, as I’m just a little wiser.”
Amelia had to concede that point since her mother had won a majority of the games, which had quite surprised Joanna’s husband, the duke, the most well-read of any of them. “I would say much wiser.”
“Thank you.”
After her mother left, Amelia returned to her letter.My painting is improving by the day, and I’ve recently finished a portrait that I’m quite pleased with. I know you may be shocked to read that, but it’s true. I still feel my skills to be limited by my inability to accurately paint the visions I see in my head; however, I believe I have reached a new level with objects that are before me.
She reread what she’d just written. Though she cringed at praising herself, she admitted it was the truth. It wasn’t as if her paintings were of any great import to mankind, but they were to her, and her family, and to Lady Spencer. Maybe even to Andrew, who did promise she could continue to paint after they married.
“Oh, it looks like Mother was wrong. We do have a brave soul who decided to call.” Joanna rose to walk closer to the window. “I’m not familiar with that crest.”
Mariel set aside her loop. “No need to disturb Mother. I’m sure whoever it is won’t mind having tea with us. I’ll have Channing order us some.”
Curious, Amelia set her quill in the inkwell and rose, prepared to meet the mystery guest. She walked to the settee her mother so recently vacated and sat.
When the door to the parlor opened, her heart skipped a beat as Andrew strode in. He appeared more handsome than before and the urge to drag him back to her studio was strong. Dressed in his usual tans and browns, his hair appeared a bit longer, but other than the red in his cheeks from the cold, he hadn’t changed in the last few weeks.
Mariel, ever the hostess, greeted him. “It is so good to see you, Lord Sommerset. You remember Lady Amelia.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I could not forget such a talented lady.”
“My talent only extends as far as my subjects.” She smirked, beyond happy to see him.
“Do not listen to her. She is excellent.” At Joanna’s words, Mariel continued with the introductions. “Do you remember my sister, the Duchess of Northwick?”
He turned to Joanna. “Your Grace. Last I saw you, you and your husband were gliding across the Enderlys’ ballroom, putting all others to shame with your skill.”
“A very different skill than my sister’s. Please sit. I hope you will take tea with us?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Andrew settled in the chair Joanna had indicated, which happened to be next to the settee.
Amelia found herself wanting to reach out and touch him, so she clasped her hands together to make sure she did nothing untoward. “I understand you traveled home for the festive season. I trust your mother is well.”
He turned toward her. “She is, thank you. She quite enjoyed having both her sons home and treating us as if we were but ten again.” He chuckled, the sound warming her to her toes.
The footman appeared at the doorway and Mariel motioned him in. “We had not heard that you had returned to Sunnydale. Have you been in Bedford long?”
Though he faced Mariel to answer, she could feel his awareness of her. How could no one else in the room feel it?
“No, I haven’t. In fact, I came directly here from Lyonsmere.” He paused as Mariel poured for them all.
Mariel finished and sent the footman away before lifting her teacup. “We are honored to be your first visit.”
“Why directly here, Lord Sommerset? I would think you would want to join your hosts?” Joanna eyed him curiously.
He took a sip and set his cup down on the table between them. “Normally, I would. However, Lord Harewood, who joined me for Christmas, promised to give my apologies to his parents as he knew I was anxious to come here.”
Joanna’s brows raised, but before she could ask a question, he turned to Amelia.
“I have come to ask your father for your hand in marriage.”
Her heart leapt with excitement, which was far from what she’d expected to feel. Still, he hadn’t seen the completed painting yet.
