“Havedone,” Lady Everly corrected.
“Oh yes.” Juliette’s smile faded. Her brow knit with concentration. “Havedone.”
After little more than a month of intense tutoring, the uncultured dialect Amelia and her siblings had grown accustomed to using during their life in the slums had been mostly replaced by precise pronunciation. Certainly, there were times when they forgot themselves. Amelia knew this was especially true of herself and her brother when they were feeling stressed or irritable. But as long as she set her mind to the task, proper diction could be managed much easier than correct posture.
Catching herself at that thought, she deliberately straightened her spine and pulled back her shoulders just as a maid arrived to take their order.
“I believe Coventry has benefited as much from you as you have from him,” Lady Everly said once the maid had gone to fetch the tea they’d requested. “There has been a distinct sense of quiet agitation about him for years—ever since his sister passed. If you ask me, helping your brother succeed was precisely the sort of challenge he needed. He has loosened up since he made Huntley’s acquaintance.”
“Forgive me, but how did his sister die?” Amelia couldn’t help but ask the question. Since the moment he’d invited her to dance at the ball her brother had hosted three weeks earlier, the Duke of Coventry had filled most of her thoughts with fascination. Devastatingly handsome, his sand-colored hair was tousled enough to deny him the look of a pampered lord, his eyes a warm shade of brown that crinkled at the corners whenever something amused him, while his mouth...
“As I understand it,” Lady Everly said, forcing Amelia out of her reverie, “the poor girl caught influenza while traveling Europe. She died shortly after returning home.”
Amelia shuddered. She understood all too well the pain the loss of a sibling could cause. Bethany’s death had torn her world apart at the seams. It was something she knew she would never get over, even if time did make it easier to live with. “It must have been terribly difficult for the family.”
Expelling a breath, Lady Everly nodded. “Well, Coventry’s father had already gone to meet his Maker a year before this happened, so he was at least spared from having to bury his daughter. As for the dowager duchess and the duke, nobody saw them for a long time after. You will see that Her Grace still wears black after all these years.”
“How long has it been?” Juliette inquired.
“Oh... at least four or five years, I should think,” Lady Everly replied.
The maid returned with a tray that she placed on the table in the center of the seating arrangement. She was just leaving when Pierson, the butler, entered. “The Dowager Duchess of Coventry and her son, the Duke of Coventry, have come to call,” he said. “May I show them in?”
Hesitating, Amelia glanced at Lady Everly, who stared back at her expectantly before finally whispering, “This is your home, Amelia, so it falls upon you to respond. I am merely a guest here.”
Appreciating her advice, Amelia told Pierson to show the guests in and then braced herself for the sight that would likely set her heart racing.
Coventry did not disappoint as he entered behind his mother, his height dwarfing the much smaller woman as he looked over her head with ease and offered a smile. Today he’d chosen to wear a navy blue jacket, the cut of which accentuated the breadth of his shoulders. Beneath it, Amelia glimpsed his waistcoat, which had been tastefully cut in a lighter shade. It drew attention to his chest while complementing the beige-colored breeches that hugged his thighs as though they’d been stitched into place.
Amelia’s stomach quivered with awareness. No man should be allowed to look so attractive, to possess a jawline so perfectly sculpted or a mouth so sinfully tempting it made her think of couples kissing with wild abandon. She’d seen plenty of that over the years and a great deal more, as well. The inhabitants of St. Giles had not been shy about their desires, happily sating their needs in any available space they could find. Which was probably not something she should be thinking about while enjoying tea with nobility.
So she stood—a bit faster than she had intended due to the tension that strained every muscle in her body—and went to greet Coventry’s mother.
“Welcome,” she said, curtseying for good measure even though she hated the gesture because of how awkward it made her feel. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, my dear.” The dowager duchess dipped her head toward Juliette and Lady Everly, acknowledging their presence, as well. “After everything my son has told me about you, I simply had to see you for myself.” The edge of her mouth curved to form an inviting smile before she turned to address Coventry. “Shame on you for not telling me how lovely the Duke of Huntley’s sisters really are.”
“My apologies, Mama,” Coventry said with a dry tone that would have been slightly severe if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eyes. “As you know, I try to avoid stating the obvious.”
“Touché!” Lady Everly applauded while the dowager duchess slapped her son playfully on the arm before moving toward the vacant sofa.
Aware that a disconcerting shade of pink was flushing her cheeks, Amelia quickly asked the duke if he’d have a seat as well before turning away to resume her own—thankfully, with an entire table and tea set wedged between them. Because although she knew that complimenting ladies was second nature to him, and he’d spoken not only of her but of her sister as well, her heart had responded with a wild beat that could be tamed only if she managed to keep her distance from him.
All she had to do now was pour the tea without spilling it.
Perfect!
Reaching for the pot, she curled her fingers firmly around the handle in an effort to stop them from trembling. She drew a fortifying breath and held it until she’d completed her task with success. Air whooshed from her lungs on a sigh of relief when she set the pot back on the table, only realizing then that she’d done what she’d tried to avoid by not spilling and drawn unwanted attention anyway.
“Do try to relax,” the dowager duchess said as she spooned some sugar into her cup and added a touch of milk. “We are all friends here, I hope, so you need not throw yourself into a tizzy on any account. My son and I are here to help you, Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette, as is Lady Everly. Is that not so?” Raising her cup to her lips, she glanced at the dowager countess and Coventry in turn before taking a long sip.
“Most assuredly,” Coventry agreed. He’d leaned back against the sofa on which he and his mother were sitting and had stretched out his legs in a relaxed pose that suggested satisfied comfort.
Amelia couldn’t help but envy him. She considered her teacup, wondering if she might attempt a sip without rattling the china, but then dismissed the idea and folded her hands in her lap instead. Perhaps if she could remain still she’d be able to present herself as a lady with greater ease than if she moved.
“As it is, you have both made a lot of progress,” Lady Everly said. “To think you are the same young women I met in your brother’s study right after he’d claimed the title is nothing short of astounding.”
Amelia cringed as she recalled the incident—the manner in which they’d slouched and their horrendous use of the English language.
