“And you’ll need to play.”
Amelia began to choke, crumbs spewing onto her quilt.
He poured her some tea and waited as she gulped it down.
“I don’t play sports,” she said once she’d recovered. “I don’t know the first thing about them.”
He patted her on the knee. “Don’t worry. They’ll put you at the back. You won’t have to do anything.”
“Then why even take part? Surely we’ve a footman or groom who would do a better job.” Her eyebrows were knitted in a picture of complete disbelief, as if it were the most absurd request that had ever been made of her.
“It’s tradition, the local women versus the local men.”
“And why am I playing?”
This was the challenge because he’d brainstormed a dozen different reasons that he could give her that might inspire her to take part. Nothing seemed believable, which meant he was forced to go with the truth. “It would be good for you. It’s time you made some friends in Abingdale.”
Surprisingly, instead of a rolling of the eyes or a sarcastic quip, the comment was met with startled silence.
“You do know what friends are, yes?” he continued. “People you talk to, laugh with, visit.”
That provoked the eyeroll he’d been expecting. “I know what friends are,” she said. “I have plenty. I’ve just never particularlylikedany of them.”
He shook his head. Every day there was some offhand comment that demonstrated how twisted her understanding of human relationships was. Her father, and the society that had made her, had a lot to answer for.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “Obviously, there are some people I’m looking forward to seeing again. There are a handful that are more than tolerable.”
“You’ll like the people you meet today.”
“Truly?” Sarcasm dripped off the word.
“Probably not, but I need you to pretend that you do, at least. And while you’re at it, maybe have a go at being a little less…Lady Amelia Asterly.”
She set aside the plate from her lap. “And who should I be, if not myself?”
He was walking a fine line. He should probably have stopped with the request to join the bandy game, but he was in too deep now. “Just be Amelia.…Amy? The townspeople need to see the warm, human side I know is in you.”
She frowned. “As opposed to…”
“Lady Amelia the perfect, bloodless porcelain doll. Not porcelain, though. That’s too fragile. Copper princess? Iron lady?” He shrugged.
She regarded him with deep suspicion. “Benedict Asterly, that almost felt like a compliment.”
He grinned. “It would just be nice if the locals could see an aristocrat that was nice. Friendly.”
She threw a pillow at his head. “Get out, Benedict.” He stood to leave. “Leave the bacon!”
The local fair was colorful and boisterous, rollicking and carefree—everything that had been drilled out of Amelia since she was a little girl. Children whirled past, chasing each other with sticks tied to colorful flags and shrieking with laughter.
Two months ago, the sight would have spurred feelings of disapproval. But today it left a different feeling in her chest. Something she couldn’t quite identify but which made her feel…lost.
Becoming separated from Benedict early had not helped. He’d given her a quick kiss on the lips, leaving her all fluttery and off-kilter, and then left with barely a backward glance.
Cassandra, at least, had stayed by her side.
“We’re going to beat them this year,” Cassandra said. “I just know it.”
She grabbed Amelia’s hand and towed her toward the group of women huddled under a marquee that had been set up alongside a clear patch of ice.
