He couldn’t believe it was one of his own men, but the only alternative was that someone else had snuck down in the middle of the night to sabotage them. And they would have needed some understanding of how trains work to disable Tessie so effectively.
True to self, Amelia went straight into solution mode, the whys of the problem not mattering.
“Is it fixed? You could take the Americans back down there tomorrow.”
“If I can convince them.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I did a very good job at selling it. Nothing went to plan. My pitch was a mess. I forgot half of it, the other half was delivered in disjointed bursts.”
She joined him on the bed and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, giving him a gentle kiss.
“We have tonight. Between the two of us, we’ll get them down there in the morning. I can be quite persuasive, you know.”
“Oh, I know. It’s one of your many talents.”
The smile she gave bordered on wicked. She was scheming and manipulative and damned good at both. Funny how those were traits he’d come to admire in her.
“You haven’t asked how my day was with Grunt’s daughters,” she said, patting him briskly on the leg and returning to her dresser, where she picked up a necklace. “Help me with this.”
He opened the clasp, lifting the chain over her head. “To be honest, I’d forgotten all about his daughters.”
In the reflection, he caught the eye roll she didn’t mean for him to see. “I do realize the idea of entertaining is a foreign concept to you, but it is expected to at least remember one has guests.”
“Noted. What did the misses Grunt have to say? Were they shockingly American and appalling you with stories of cowboys and Indians? Or were they sufficiently demure and talking of weather and embroidery?”
Amelia shrugged. “Neither. I rather think they’re as business-focused as their father.”
“Really? They were talking about the new railways? What did they say?” Grunt and Harcombe had been transparent about their plans, but any additional information might be useful.
“The business of marriage, not transport. It seems the misses Grunt are doing their own prospecting this weekend.”
Benedict couldn’t help smiling. “Poor Wildeforde.”
“Poor Wildeforde indeed.”
By the time all the guests had arrived downstairs and they’d proceeded to the dining room, Amelia was once again questioning her decision to bring London’s elite and Benedict’s potential business partners into the same space.
It had seemed so simple at the time—the Americans would gain important connections and, in their gratitude, would sign whatever contract Benedict wished.
London society would see how polished her husband and her household were and would acknowledge their mistake in thinking her no longer part of the beau monde.
And Benedict would see that her ability to entertain was a real asset to his business.
She hadn’t anticipated just how crass the Americans would be. Or how shamelessly they would throw themselves at every titled gentleman in the room. Or how the other females would consider Amelia responsible for introducing two pretty, wealthy heiresses to “their” men.
By the time the second course arrived, the atmosphere was that of circling sharks. Blood would be spilt.
And it seemed Lady Luella—Amelia’s protégée and finest achievement—would be the first to sink her teeth in.
“Lord Wildeforde, it is such a surprise to see you here after…everything.” She gave a pointed look toward Amelia, who clenched her teeth together in an effort not to interject. “I do hope you’re not too heartbroken.”
The table went silent.
The events surrounding Benedict and Amelia’s marriage had gone unspoken for the better part of two days. No longer, apparently. It took every ounce of her self-restraint not to rake her nails down Luella’s face.
She held her breath.Stick to the script.
Edward, to his credit, didn’t skip a beat. “Through the grace of good brandy, my heart is on the mend. How can one stay angry in the face of true love?” He raised his glass in Amelia’s direction with a smile that fooled almost everyone else.
“To true love.” There was an undercurrent of speculation in the words as both tables raised their glasses in Amelia’s direction.
