“Clearly, we need not be introduced.” Peter laced my arm through his, and I found Georgiana, who looked at me with both interest and pity.
“Watch yourself,” Evelyn crooned as Peter steered us away. “Her family is as low as they come.”
Peter clenched a fist, and I had to half run to keep up with his pace. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. Guilt, anger, sorrow, pity, pain, embarrassment. All at once and all-encompassing. If Peter had not seen me clearly enough before, certainly now he could piece the puzzle together.
I forced myself to keep my composure as we waited for the carriage, and when it arrived, I nearly threw myself inside, huddling in the corner of the bench with my face in my hands. I told myself not to cry.
I heard Georgiana adjusting her skirts across from me.
Peter heaved a heavy sigh as the door closed behind him, and I longed to run away. To hide beneath the deepest rock. What must he think of me?
I sunk lower, sniffing back the emotion that wanted to burst from me. Then the carriage jolted forward, and I could not contain it any longer.
“Who was that woman?” Georgiana’s voice was soft, betraying interest.
“Georgiana,” Peter’s voice was clipped in warning.
She reached out a hand to me and rubbed my arm. “She was very rude, whoever she was. You did not deserve that, Amelia.”
My heart burst, and I sobbed freely. Peter started to move toward me, but Georgiana stopped him. And she was right. Comforting me was not his place, nor proper by any means, no matter how badly I wanted to fall into his arms.
Instead, Georgiana took me into her own arms and patted my hair with her gloved hand. “We shall forget about that horrible woman and her porky neck, and get you and your sister straight to bed.”
Georgiana’s voice was thick with humor on the last word, and I let out a small laugh through my tears, choking back another sob. This was why the heart could not be trusted. It only ever caused pain. Tuning my ears to the comforting sound of the horses’ hooves, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as Georgiana stroked my arm.
Misery had found me yet again. To run from it was as foolish as running from age. And yet, I always tried.
When the carriage pulled up to the drive, my cheeks were dried and stiff. I could not bear to see Peter’s pained expression as he helped me down. I nearly ran up the stairs to my room.
Mary helped me out of my dress and into my nightclothes. As I sat in front of the mirror unpinning my hair, the door flew open, and Clara ran in frantically. At the sight of her, I fell apart all over again.
“Amelia! Mr. Wood insisted that I see to you immediately.” Clara knelt beside me, staring desperately into my eyes. “He said someone found you at the concert hall?”
“Tomorrow,” I begged, wiping my tears and composing myself. I could not bear to tell her the truth tonight. Tomorrow I would tell her everything. “Would you sing to me until I sleep?”
“Of course I will. Mary, will you help me with my dress? The night is nearly over anyway.” Clara smiled at me before helping me under the covers of my bed. She had so much strength, so much courage. Would she be angry with me for keeping Lord Gray’s secrets for so long? I’d only meant to protect her heart, to give her a chance at happiness without carrying the burden of our fate.
Listening to the melody of Clara’s soprano, my mind filled with thoughts of home and of happiness, and, just before I drifted off into sleep, a pair of curious green eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
There exists a peaceful moment when one first opens one’s eyes, when all the world is just as it should be. And then you blink, and just like that the moment vanishes like smoke in the wind.
“Good morning, miss.” Mary clasped her hands in front of her and offered a curtsey. “Mr. Wood asked that I bring this tray up to you. Most of the party has already dispersed for the day, and Lady Demsworth expects Mr. Pendleton to arrive sometime this afternoon.”
Rubbing my eyes, I grimaced. “Thank you, Mary.”
She propped the curtains open, revealing a clearer view of the small tray of tea surrounded by biscuits and fresh blackberries. Instantly, I thought of Peter, and my heart sank, remembering how terribly our evening had ended last night. I pressed a hand to my forehead. I’d never been so embarrassed.
A folded note with my name scrawled in a gentleman’s hand propped up against the teacup caught my attention. The paper was smooth as I unfolded it.
Amelia—
I hope sleep found you in overabundance last night. I hope it served to erase cruel memories of our evening prior, and I hope you have awakened refreshed and just as lovely as I always find you.
I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed taking you to the symphony last night. Your company is, simply put, my favorite luxury. In case any discomfort still exists in your memory, I offer you tea the way I like it, biscuits, and the sweetest blackberries Cook could find to start your day.
I have taken Clara and Georgiana to town to pick out flowers for the ball. Away from Demsworth to ease your worries. I thought an afternoon away might do us all some good.
