“Lord Wildeforde and I made a mutual decision to dissolve our engagement.”
“My husband said he dropped you like a hot brick after finding you in flagrante with his friend.”
Every muscle within her tightened at the insult, but outwardly she kept the same pleasant smile on her face. “That isn’t an accurate representation of the events, so either your husband needs his vision checked or he’s being somewhat elastic with the truth in order to manufacture some gossip.”
The woman recoiled at Amelia’s rebuke, but really what did she expect? Amelia washaute ton. The woman was a ghost. One tends to lose one’s standing when one decides to molder away in the country.
Which was why she needed to talk to Benedict about a London house. The Season was fast approaching, and after further thinking, she’d realized that they really should attend.
“So you plan to sell it as what? A love match? Some princess and the pauper fairytale story?”
“Hardly a pauper. My husband’s richer than half of society.”
Lady Karstark thumped her cane. “But an overgrown ass with no manners from what I can recall.”
The words stung mostly because she’d uttered something so similar not long ago, when she hadn’t known any better.
“Manners can be learned,” she said. It took every ounce of effort to respond calmly and not to put the crusty old woman in her place, but Amelia had her eyes on the end goal. Establish appropriate connections in the area. Maintain her status as a popular lady of theton. “It is not my intention to argue, Lady Karstark. I came to pay my respects with the hope of establishing a friendship.”
Lady Karstark sniffed. “Life in the country must be somewhat duller than you’re used to.”
Amelia thought back to the past weeks spent sparring with her husband and lending her talents to the firm. Nothing about it was dull. “It is not quite how I used to spend my time.”
“His mother found the same thing.”
“Benedict’s mother?” Amelia’s ears perked up instantly. He’d refused to give Amelia any more information than he had that morning, and she hadn’t pressed him because it was clearly too painful to talk about. But that hadn’t stopped her curiosity. “All I know is that she wasn’t happy.”
“Fool of a girl eloped with a footman. Marcus Asterly. She thought she could have it all—an inappropriate love match and her old life in society. That notion soon wore off though, once she realized people weren’t visiting, letters weren’t arriving, and her friends were never ‘at home’ when she went to London.”
“That was poorly done of them.” Amelia’s voice didn’t falter, but in her head, she was tallying up the number of letters she’d written, the days since she’d written them, and the lack of replies.
Lady Karstark smirked, as if she could sense Amelia’s rising concern.
“I’m not worried,” Amelia said, as much to convince herself as anyone else. “I’m a very influential person.”
“No doubt.”
“I’m not his mother.” The words came out more forcefully than she intended. “I didn’t marry a footman; I married the grandson of a marquess. I’m perfectly capable of maintaining one life in London and another out here.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps history will repeat itself. I hear Paris is lovely this time of year.”
You devil woman.Agatha Karstark was every bit as cruel as her husband. No wonder the local villagers couldn’t stand them. They were evil incarnate. “I am not abandoning anyone.”
Lady Karstark sniggered. “We’ll see how you feel about it when you’ve been stuck in the country for a few years. When the papers have forgotten you and you miss London so much even its rotten smell of refuse would be welcome.”
Amelia tried to tell herself that this was different. Benedict wasn’t a footman. He was a descendant of the Marquess of Harrington. Yes, he was in trade, but he was wealthy. Wealthier, probably, than the blasted woman in front of her. And if anyone had the clout to make this situation work, it was her.
But all the reasoning in the world couldn’t quell her sudden unease.
Chapter19
Host a hunt? Are you mad?” Amelia had lost her bloody mind. The thought of a horde of toffs descending on their home sent shivers crawling up Benedict’s spine.
Questioning her sanity had the very effect he should have anticipated. She straightened and tilted her chin defiantly. “Yes, I panicked. Yes, I concocted a cock-and-bull story to save face in front of that cursed woman. And yes, telling her that she’s wrong and we have plenty of influential people coming to visit was probably an error of judgment. But we can’t go back from it now.”
What the devil had happened? Yesterday they’d been all warm and cozy inside their little bubble of home and work. Now she wanted London to come slaughter animals. “I suppose that explains this?” He indicated the mountain of fabric samples that had taken over their drawing room and the neatly stacked pile of fashion plates she’d forced him to look through.
“Your new wardrobe was already in the works. Our house party has simply increased the urgency for it.”
