Coventry gave a thoughtful nod while he studied the paper. “His grandfather is the Earl of Scranton, so there will be a title there one day. Presently, however, I doubt that few would think it inappropriate for him to marry a viscount’s granddaughter, regardless of her upbringing.”
Amelia flinched at the factual way in which he was talking. Not a hint of emotion seeped into his words as he continued to speak in favor of the potential match. By the time he was done, she felt raw inside. He’d even said he would happily make the necessary introduction, which could only mean he was pleased with the idea of her marrying Mr. Lowell. Perhaps he believed a courtship would give her something else to think of besides lying to him in order to buy an overpriced ruin. She still couldn’t help but shudder with the thought of him knowing how thoroughly she’d been duped.
But a part of her had hoped against all odds that he might not have been quite so eager to see her form an attachment to another man. Foolish woman that she was. He had never viewed her as anything other than his friend’s sister, and he never would.
Tightening her stomach around the pain slicing through it, she reminded herself that she didn’t care. He was not as kind as she’d thought him to be but in possession of a brutal streak she’d rather avoid from now on. Still, she ought to make a better effort at offering him an apology. Perhaps then they could at least return to some sort of friendship where she didn’t feel as though he was constantly judging her.
“He will inherit a large estate one day,” Lady Everly said, still speaking of Mr. Lowell. “In the meantime, the twenty thousand pounds he makes per annum is a respectable sum. If I recall, he even enjoys a good game of croquet.”
“Really?” Amelia asked with interest. She’d only recently been introduced to the sport a couple of weeks ago, but had taken to it with pleasure right from the start.
“Why does that seem to please you?” Coventry asked. “Do you like to play?”
“On occasion,” she said with a bit of a shrug. Looking at him then, she added, “There can be something very rewarding about hitting a ball with a mallet.”
He looked dubious, but still ended up saying, “In that case, I would suggest trying golf, but that game requires more finesse than one would be able to garner from wielding a cumbersome bit of wood.”
His implication wasn’t lost on her, which prompted her to respond in kind. “My only regret is when I miss.”
“I believe golf is played at a club just north of London,” the dowager duchess said, seemingly unaware of the veiled argument taking place. “I can look into it if you would like to learn.”
Amelia forced a smile. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I believe I shall stick to croquet for now. Especially if that is what Mr. Lowell enjoys playing.”
“I believe he is fond of shuttlecock too,” Lady Everly said. “In fact, he enjoys playing a wide variety of games.”
“Excellent.” Amelia reached for her teacup and took another sip. “We shan’t be bored then when we’re together. What a relief.”
Beside her, Coventry made a sound that sounded a bit like a choked cough. So she glanced toward him and saw he was actually smiling. Or doing his best not to and failing miserably. It lasted only until he found her watching, at which point his lips tightened to accommodate the stern look that followed.
With a shake of her head, Amelia turned away and decided that she would have one of the tempting biscuits that sat on the table just waiting to be devoured. Picking one up, she bit into the flaky treat, enjoying the flavor of ginger and spice as it nipped at her tongue.
“Shall we resume your dance lessons then?” the dowager duchess asked.
Amelia froze with the remainder of her biscuit still poised in midair.
“I think the ladies did very well last time,” Coventry said. On the table before him, his tea remained untouched, prompting Amelia to wonder if he’d requested it only to unnerve her. “They need not go over the dances again.”
“I disagree,” Lady Everly said. “Amelia made several mistakes, so I would like to ensure she can manage to refrain from doing so when Society is watching.”
With a sigh, Amelia accepted the fact that she was once again the center of unwanted attention. She set down her biscuit and glanced at Coventry, whose posture remained as stiff as ever. Still, the dances would allow them a chance to speak more privately, which might not be such a bad thing if she truly wished to convey her regrets with sincerity.
Well, it was rather like swallowing cod-liver oil, wasn’t it? One did it because one had to, not because one wanted to. But in this case, it would be the right thing to do, which left her with little choice but to get it over with.
“Perhaps you are right,” Coventry said. “It would be unfortunate if anyone thought her to be anything less than the lady she truly is.” Getting up, he turned to offer her his hand with a meaningful look.
The fact that her insides collapsed beneath his regard did not prevent her from forcing elegance into her limbs and rising as if she floated on air. Her chin came up and her eyes met his with defiance. “I can assure you that that will not happen, Your Grace.” She settled her hand carefully over his, just as Gabriella had taught her, and followed the gesture with a smile. “Shall we proceed?”
A flicker of uncertainty entered his gaze, and for a second he simply stood there, staring back at her. But then he collected himself and nodded. “Certainly.” He glanced at his mother. “I trust you will be counting the beats again?”
“Of course.”
Coventry led Amelia across to the parlor door and out into the hallway. “Then by all means, let us get on with it,” he murmured, leaving no illusion about his desire to partner with her this afternoon. It was just as lacking as hers was.
Chapter 7
Feeling irritable on account of the sleepless night he’d passed, Thomas led Lady Amelia through to the ballroom while the rest of their small party followed behind. She did not glance at him once while they walked, her eyes stubbornly trained on their destination. A weaker woman would no doubt have shied away from him after the way he’d treated her yesterday, but not Lady Amelia. Her posture was more correct than he’d ever seen it before, her determinedness to safeguard her pride so astute it gifted her with a regal bearing. She was not going to let his angry words bring her down. On the contrary, she would thwart them with her head held high.
There was something to be said about that. For one thing, he respected her for it. For another, he couldn’t help but be a little bit proud of her for standing up to him with as much resolve as she had. Most young ladies would have backed away. Then again, most young ladies would not have lied about their whereabouts and then proceeded to traipse through the streets of London dressed like a beggar in order to rendezvous with a man at a questionable location. The memory of it still infuriated him and yet... as convinced as he’d been of her wrongdoing last night, he’d since concluded that she might have been right about a couple of things and that she deserved an apology for his aggressive behavior.
