To her right, she heard her mother gasp, and Amelia’s eyes grew wide before narrowing. “I don’t believe you.”
She couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up and she let it out. “Don’t be so shocked. It’s not like we don’t love each other or hadn’t planned to marry. It’s just that I have waited long enough.” Which was far too true.
Amelia’s gaze softened. “Then I’m proud of you. And of course, he said yes. This is so wonderful. You are the one that always said love was more important than anything. I never truly understood until Andrew.”
Their mother cleared her throat. “I do believe I may have mentioned that.”
Amelia rolled her eyes before smiling. “You were definitely the first, Mother. And then Joanna with all her philosophers and poets, but Mariel showed us what it truly meant.”
Again their mother cleared her throat. “Would you like to think about that further?”
A smile tugged at the corners of Mariel’s lips, but she kept it at bay. Amelia appeared completely perplexed. Finally, her younger sister’s eyes opened in understanding. “Oh, you mean you and Father. Yes, that’s true, but you’re older.”
It was Mariel’s turn to gasp, but at the twinkle in her sister’s eye, she understood she only teased.
“Young woman, married or not, you come over here and give your old mother a proper apology.”
Mariel finally looked to her mother to find her not the least insulted.
Amelia rose and kissed their mother on the cheek. “I am truly sorry, Mother. You do not look old at all.”
“Hmph.” Lady Wakefield, whose chestnut hair barely held any white and whose wrinkles clearly spoke of years of smiles and laughter, was still quite beautiful. She waved her youngest back. “Fine. Now do call Channing and have tea brought. I’m sure we will be having guests now that Mariel has joined us.”
Amelia headed for the open doors of the parlor just as Channing welcomed their newest visitor.
“Lord Blackmore.”
Mariel’s heart fluttered as if four years, a marriage, and a war had not taken place since Marcus had last come to call on her at their London home. Pretending to be betrothed was becoming far too easy.
“Channing. It’s good to see you again.”
“And you, sir. Lady Wakefield, Lady Sommerset, and Lady Beaumont are receiving.”
She tried not to crane her neck to catch sight of him, but it would hardly be proper, so she settled for watching the doorway while gripping the side of the settee. His boot heels on the entry floor announced his arrival just seconds before he crossed the threshold to the parlor.
He took in all three of them in one glance, then strode to her mother. “Lady Wakefield, Lady Beaumont, Lady Sommerset, it is a pleasure to see you all again.”
“And you, sir.” Her mother smiled, but her gaze took in everything at once. “We are so pleased that you came home with no injuries.”
Mariel caught the stiffening in his shoulders and neck, and she had no doubt her mother did as well. “I am lucky to have made it through my final battle. I only wish those of my family here had been as fortunate as myself.”
Her mother shook her head. “We heard of your family’s misfortunes. We are very sorry and hope you and your mother can find peace in the future.”
“Thank you.” He gave her mother a short nod.
“Please, have a seat and join us for tea?” Her mother’s kind smile was quite welcoming and Marcus seemed to relax.
“Lord Blackmore, are you not pleased to find my sister here?”
At Amelia’s question, she looked at her, willing her to face her, but she didn’t, an impish smile filling her face.
Marcus raised his brows. “But of course she is here. We traveled to London together, in separate coaches.”
Amelia finally looked at her, now with wide eyes. “You did?”
“Yes, I did. Remember, Amelia. I’m a widow.” She gave her younger sister a stern look, since Amelia had been secretly seeing her husband before they were married and had risked her very reputation for the sake of art.
Their mother addressed Marcus. “I called on your mother as soon as I heard the wonderful news. We are going to the Burlington arcade on the morrow. Would you like to join us?”
