“But...” She looked at her sister, whose eyes kept shifting from Amelia to Coventry and back again. “What about Juliette?”
His lips widened to form an accommodating smile. “I believe Lord Yates will be more than happy to step in. She will be fine.”
“But...”
Stepping back, he sketched a quick bow. “You must excuse me now. I have a bit of business to attend to. Mama?” He drew the dowager duchess’s attention. “I trust you and Lady Everly will keep a vigilant eye on Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette for the next hour or so?”
“Of course.” Both matrons were suddenly leading Amelia and Juliette away from Coventry while the dowager duchess craned her neck and scanned the room. “Let us find Mr. Lowell,” she said. “He must be here somewhere.”
Resisting the urge to tug on his cravat, Thomas strode toward the gaming room and approached the sideboard where a selection of bottles and carafes had been put on display. He poured himself a brandy, downing the spicy liquor in one swift gulp before pouring himself another. What in God’s name was Lady Amelia wearing? He tried to recall, but his mind remained blank, save for a vision of creamy skin rising from beneath a blur of gold trimmings. And her breasts! How the hell had he failed to notice the impeccable shape of them before? They were like a pair of treats encased in smooth deliciousness just begging to be sampled.
Damnation!
He’d have to have a strict word with his mother and Lady Everly about this. Not that there was anything inappropriate about Lady Amelia’s choice of gown per se—especially not if its purpose was to cause her dance partner to falter—but he’d been so accustomed to seeing her more modestly attired that this new vision she presented was like a kick in the shin.
Refraining from fetching a shawl or some other large piece of fabric and demanding she cover herself had been bloody difficult. In fact, he’d been tempted to stick to her side and ensure that every gentleman she entertained would be looking at her face instead of a few inches lower. But the fact was he’d come here for more than one reason, and since he’d no desire to ruin Lady Amelia’s evening, he’d chosen to remove himself from her company and leave her in his mother’s and Lady Everly’s capable hands before he said something regrettable.
Savoring his next sip of brandy, he scanned the room until he located Lord Liverpool. The prime minister was finishing up a game of faro so Thomas strode forward, slicing his way across the carpet until he stood at the man’s shoulder. Leaning down, he whispered close to his ear, “I was wondering if I might have a word.”
“Your Grace,” Liverpool said, turning his head and looking up. He didn’t seem too pleased with the interruption, but excused himself to his companions anyway before shoving himself to his feet and following Thomas to a private corner. “How may I be of service?”
“It is about my bill,” Thomas began.
Liverpool raised a knowing eyebrow. He rocked back on his heels before saying, “I am sorry, Coventry, but I do not see a positive outcome for it.”
“Why not?” This bill meant everything to him. “Have you even tried to convince others of its importance?”
Lord Liverpool blew out a breath and quietly nodded. “It is not that we do not think children ought to be protected, but forcing men to acknowledge by-blows and then creating a law that allows these offspring the same rights as legitimate children is unwise. There are women who would happily take advantage of such a law. And what then? Would you insist that every earl who cavorts with his mistress should give the product of his indiscretion the right to inherit?”
Thomas leaned forward and met the earl’s unrelenting gaze. “I would have men take responsibility for their actions. And I should like for each of them to have the opportunity to make their offspring heir, if that is what they wish to do.” Tempering his tone, he softly added, “It is whatIwould like to do.”
Liverpool stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Although I sympathize with your... situation, your bill is too personal, Coventry, and far too preposterous to even consider. No one else can relate to it, so I would suggest you think of something else—a different proposal with greater appeal. Like a way in which to reduce crime or create better working conditions for the lower classes. That is something even the House of Commons can get behind.”
Tightening his hold on his glass, Thomas acknowledged Liverpool’s dismissal. It was a blow, mostly because of the effect it would have on Jeremy’s future. The very thought of it turned his stomach, but there was little he could do. Passing a bill was difficult work, and he’d known he’d faced an impossible battle. Unwilling to reveal the extent of his disappointment, he gave the prime minister a swift nod. “I will think about it,” he said. Wishing Liverpool a continued good evening, he took his leave and returned to the ballroom where a minuet was presently underway.
Several ladies smiled and batted their eyelids in his direction. He greeted them all with a noncommittal nod—one that would hopefully dissuade them from thinking they might have a chance at snatching him up. Marriage wasn’t something he planned to consider—not as long as he had Jeremy to look after. The boy’s well-being, his education and care, were his prime concern. Everything else seemed somewhat insignificant by comparison.
Although...
Stepping past a pillar, he was suddenly afforded an unhindered view of the dance floor where at least two dozen ladies and gentlemen were twisting and turning in time to the music that rose from the orchestra’s five violins. Only one face captivated his interest, however. Lady Amelia. She was radiant right now with the blush of exertion painting her cheeks in a pretty shade of pink. And her smile. It was enough to make even the most stalwart bachelor want to propose. She was clearly enjoying herself and the attention Mr. Lowell was giving her in the form of winks and privately spoken words. There was an intimacy between them that for some unknown reason made Thomas want to march out onto the dance floor and pull her away from the man’s hungry gaze.
Drawing a breath, he forced back the unwelcome darkness materializing in his gut. It was only a dance. That was all. Not to mention that Mr. Lowell would make her a wonderful match. Thomas knew the man well—considered him a friend. He’d be a fool if he ruined things between Mr. Lowell and Lady Amelia by acting like a jealous suitor. Which he wasn’t. Not in the least.
“She has turned out well.”
Glancing at the man who’d spoken, Thomas greeted another of his friends, Baron Hawthorne. “It does appear that way, does it not?”
Hawthorne moved so he and Thomas stood shoulder to shoulder while watching the dance. “Her sister has too, by the way. Shall we wager on how long it will take for each of them to marry?”
Thomas took a sip of his brandy before tossing a look at his friend. “I’d rather not. The ladies are under my protection until Huntley returns. It would not be right.”
“Understood. But I will still offer my opinion on the matter, if you like.” When Thomas said nothing, Hawthorne added, “I expect they will both have gentleman callers tomorrow. Lowell there is certainly smitten.”
Frowning, Thomas considered the way the man’s eyes followed Lady Amelia’s every move. He wouldn’t care about her past in the least. If anything, he would welcome the idea of marrying a duke’s sister and the connection such a match implied. “How long until he proposes?” In Thomas’s mind, it was no longer a matter ofifbut ofwhen.
“I cannot say. Perhaps a week?”
Thomas’s head snapped to the side, his eyes coming to rest on his friend’s somber face. “That soon?”
