Watching the red wooden ball roll heavily along the ground, Amelia quietly nudged it along with her mind. Just a few more inches... It stopped short of the wicket toward which it had been heading.
“Is it my turn now?” Juliette asked. She was standing a few paces away next to Mr. Lowell and Mr. Burton, who’d both come to call for the third day in a row. Hoping to avoid the monotony of more pleasantries served with a cup of tea, Amelia had suggested they all enjoy the fine weather with a game of croquet.
“I believe so,” Mr. Burton, a gentleman farmer with a very impressive income and a joyful expression, said.
Stepping aside, Amelia watched her sister take her position and swing her mallet toward her target. The ball flew across the grass in the right direction, but missed the wickets along the way.
“Allow me to help,” Mr. Burton called, marching off in Juliette’s direction. He and Lowell had been showing up every day since the Elmwood ball. Which had apparently kept Coventry away. He’d come to call as planned but had not been shown in. Instead, he’d left a note with Pierson stating that he would return some other time when she was not busy entertaining other guests.
This had repeated on Sunday, prompting her to inform Pierson this morning that if Coventry and his mother happened to call, they were to be shown in immediately. No matter what. After all, she had only one more day remaining before she would have to meet with Mr. Gorrell again, so it was imperative that she convince Coventry to make the donation he’d offered.
“Perhaps we can go for a ride tomorrow,” Lowell suggested, moving a bit closer to her. His dark brown hair held a fussy appeal on account of the breeze that continued to disturb it. He was an attractive man without question, and Amelia knew she was fortunate to have gained his notice. She could certainly do a lot worse. And Burton wasn’t bad either. He wasn’t classically handsome the way Lowell was, but there was a kindness to him—an element of generosity and pleasantness—that held great appeal.
“We may have to consider another day,” she said. “Perhaps later in the week?”
He gave her a somber look. “Just as long as I know you are not trying to set me aside.”
“Of course not.” She gave him a smile that would hopefully put him at ease. “You know I enjoy your company.” Which was true. For one thing, she found his appreciation for games appealing. For another, he was doing an excellent job of distracting her from the yearnings of her heart. If they were to marry, she supposed she would be content even if passion would probably be lacking. He simply didn’t seem to have it in him to stir such emotion in her. Nor did Burton.
Indeed, only one man was capable of accomplishing that and he... She blinked as she stared toward the stairs leading down to the lawn. Because there he was now, striding toward her at a leisurely pace that made butterflies flitter about in her belly.
Dressed in a green jacket and gray breeches with boots that gleamed in the afternoon sun, he carried himself with a casual ease that belied the penetrating glower in his eyes. For some peculiar reason, he did not look the least bit pleased, though he did seem to make some effort to hide the fact behind a strained smile.
“My lady,” he said by way of greeting once he’d managed to circumvent the croquet course. He tipped his hat toward Lowell and Burton, who’d rejoined them after helping Juliette. “Gentlemen.” Glancing toward Juliette, he said, “It looks as though you are having a great deal of fun here.”
“Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette are extremely hospitable and much more interesting company than most young ladies of our acquaintance,” Mr. Burton remarked.
“He is right,” Lowell said. His eyes met Amelia’s. “I cannot tell you how happy I was when you suggested we play this game. Most ladies would never think to do so when receiving callers.”
“Oh.” Amelia briefly wondered if she might have made a faux pas but then dismissed the idea since Lady Everly had sanctioned the game. “I simply thought it might be a refreshing change from contemplating the weather.”
A smile lifted Mr. Burton’s lips. “How right you are, my lady.”
Coventry didn’t seem to agree. “The thing of it is, however, my mother and I have been trying to speak with you for three days now, and whenever we come to call, you are otherwise occupied.” He shot a meaningful look at Lowell and Burton.
“I’m sorry” was all she could think to say since she obviously wanted to speak with him as well, but she could hardly turn her callers away either. That would be rude.
“No, we are the ones who ought to apologize,” Mr. Lowell said. “We have been monopolizing your time, Lady Amelia, but it is difficult not to do so when you are as lovely and diverting as you are.”
“You’re too kind,” she said while doing her best not to blush. The curious thing was that it wasn’t the compliment as much as it was Coventry’s gaze boring into her that made her feel hot and unbalanced.
“We will take our leave now,” Mr. Burton said.
Mr. Lowell nodded. “Indeed we shall.”
Amelia and Coventry escorted them to the front door where Pierson handed the pair their hats and gloves. Mr. Burton bid everyone a good day and headed out.
“Shall I bring my curricle on Thursday then?” Mr. Lowell asked before leaving the house.
“Yes. I think that would suit.” Amelia was keenly aware of Coventry’s hovering figure standing close behind her in the foyer. “What time did you have in mind?”
“Eleven o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
She waited until Pierson had closed the front door and disappeared into a nearby hallway before she addressed Coventry. “You look as though you are in a snit again.” She headed on through to the parlor where Lady Everly and the dowager duchess awaited.
“If so, it is only because getting an audience with you has become more difficult than getting one with the king.”
