I looked away, balling my fists. Who was this man? And why did he live to aggravate me? It mattered not; I had to agree if I wanted to help Clara. Her future depended on this match, and I had no doubt if she was left to her own will, she could secure it. We only needed time.
“Agreed,” I said through my clenched jaw, standing. How had this happened? What had I done to deserve such difficulty and trial? Peter could tease and bait and laugh, while I had to plan and pray and hope. Anger at the injustice of my circumstances and the frivolity of his weighed heavily in my chest like molten iron. “But mind, Mr. Wood, if you so much as step out of line, I will make you the most miserable man in all of Hampshire.”
To my further irritation, the words only bolstered Peter’s grin. “Don’t tempt me, Amelia. I am already having so much fun.”
Chapter Seven
Mary pulled at my hair, tightening and twisting each curl atop my head.
“Do be kind, Mary.” I winced, gripping the handles of my chair.
“Of course, miss. Forgive me for saying so, but you are usually not so tender-headed.”
Mary gently pinned a piece of hair, and I relaxed my shoulders. I had not slept well, tossing and turning all night over my conversation with Peter. His ultimatum had soured my mood even this morning. Why, of all the things he could have asked for, would Peter choose my company? There must be some hidden scheme I’d neglected to account for. I would find out soon enough.
The door to my bedchamber swung open, and Clara rushed in.
“Amelia, you are awake. Good.” Her eyes were frantic. “I need to borrow your necklace. The flower pendant. Georgiana is also wearing pearls.”
Clara reached around her neck to unfasten the pearl necklace she wore, before yanking open my jewelry box and shuffling through the few items I possessed. Clara hadn’t worn much jewelry in London, but clearly she intended to while we were at Lakeshire Park.
“It’s in my drawer,” I answered as Mary twisted a larger portion of hair at the base of my neck. Her deft fingers were swift and sure. “We cannot have you complementing your rival, can we?”
“Georgiana is not my friend, that is most certain. When I came downstairs, she greeted me by saying my maid had misplaced a pin in my hair and that I should have her adjust it before breakfast.”
Mary scoffed.
“The nerve of that girl!” I said. “She and her brother are relentless.”
“Do not worry, I told her my maid does not misplace pins, and I played the pianoforte to distract myself.” Clara shook her head as she paced to my drawer. “Sir Ronald complimented my talent.”
Mary and I caught each other’s smile. “How is Sir Ronald this morning?” I asked.
“He is such a thoughtful host. He is taking us through town after breakfast,” Clara said over her shoulder as she sorted through my things. “And Mr. Wood asked after you.”
“Did he?” I let out a heavy breath. Clearly he meant to waste no time in punishing me.
“I told him you were coming down for breakfast. Are you nearly ready?”
“One more minute,” Mary said, holding a pin between her lips.
Clara fastened my necklace around her throat and examined herself in the mirror. “That is better.”
“First my gloves, and now my necklace.” I shot her an amused smile. “Is there anything else of mine you require?”
“Your wit,” Clara said seriously. “Oh, I shall never make it through this day.”
If I possessed enough wit, I would not be preparing for an afternoon with Peter. “You do not need it. You need only be yourself.”
Clara frowned at her reflection in the mirror. What was it she saw looking back? Why did she care so much about her appearance and distinction? Sir Ronald could not care as greatly as she did. Was love worth such stress?
Mary clapped her hands together, and I looked to my own reflection, meeting light brown eyes like my mother’s. Auburn hair framed my face in an elegant, smooth twist.
“Perfect.” Clara tugged me up from my chair. “Quickly now. We are late.”
Clara and I were the last to arrive for breakfast, and therefore the last to choose seats. She sat at Lady Demsworth’s left, while I found a seat by Beatrice, thankfully on the opposite end of the table from Peter.
“What is the town like, Sir Ronald?” Beatrice asked.
