“You’re a true artist,” she murmured, studying the way that splashes of yellow and orange mixed with blues and greens. “To capture a feeling is no easy task, but this... this makes me think of warmth and happiness, of the sun rising above the world. It’s beautiful, and you should be very proud.”
The boy, all serious and terribly quiet, glanced at the dowager duchess once more, and so did Amelia this time. She looked at the woman who’d easily smiled and laughed just moments before. Her eyes now gleamed with a watery sheen and her lips had begun to tremble.
“My grandson,” she managed to say with a hoarse whisper. “His name is Jeremy.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Jeremy,” Amelia said, returning her attention to the child. His eyes were dark like his father’s, but his hair... She felt her chest constrict as she gazed at the trait that he must have gotten from his mother.
Forcing aside the ugly feelings of jealousy that threatened, Amelia patted the seat beside her and asked, “Will you join me?”
Jeremy seemed to consider. Eventually, he drew closer and claimed the spot. Still, he did not smile or show any other hint of emotion. Instead, he crossed his arms and began swinging his legs back and forth. Amelia considered him more closely, aware that there was something peculiar about his behavior that reminded her of Bethany.
She picked up the tray with biscuits and offered it to him. “Would you like one?”
When he shook his head, she set the tray down. She glanced at the dowager duchess who looked increasingly distraught for some odd reason. “Are you all right?” Amelia quietly asked her.
The dowager duchess responded with a nod. Swiftly, she stood, paused, looked at Amelia and Jeremy, then turned away while muttering a hasty, “If you will please excuse me for a moment.”
Amelia stared after her. Everything about this visit seemed strange. Deciding that nothing she’d learned so far would help her through it, she chose to let her instinct guide her and addressed Jeremy once again. “Do you like animals?”
He stilled beside her. A moment passed, and then he nodded.
“Dogs?”
He nodded again.
“Do you own one by any chance?”
A shake of his head and she had her answer.
The painting he’d made caught her eye once more. Jeremy might be a quiet introvert, but his art provided an insight to great imagination. She pondered that for a second—the do’s and don’ts of the idea taking shape in her head. She was in a duke’s home, after all—a guest invited to tea. And yet... Jeremy clearly needed some sort of amusement. She longed to make him smile and considered the way in which Raphe had sometimes succeeded in getting Bethany to do that.
So she asked him plainly, “Would you like to play a game?”
For a long while, he said nothing, and then he finally spoke his first word to her.
“Yes.”
When Thomas arrived home from parliament, he instantly knew that something was amiss. For one thing, his butler wasn’t there to greet him at the door. This had never happened before. Not during the day. Thomas took off his hat and removed his gloves, placing both on the foyer table. And then he became aware of laughter—a child’s laughter. He shook his head. It wasn’t possible.
As he headed down the hallway that led toward the parlor, he saw his mother and his butler standing outside the door looking into the room like a pair of secretive spectators. “What—”
“Shh!” His mother turned to him with a finger pressed to her lips. She looked overly emotional—possibly as if she’d been crying.
What the devil?
Respecting her wish for silence, he eased his pace and stepped forward with a soft tread. Another bit of laughter and what sounded like... neighing? Thomas frowned. None of it made any sense until the butler moved aside so he had room to observe the scene for himself.
His mouth dropped open, not so much because of the overturned tray of biscuits that littered a very expensive carpet, but because of Lady Amelia. She was crawling about on her hands and knees, heedless of what that might do to her gown, and with Jeremy riding upon her back as if she were a pony. Whinnying, she plodded about. A sudden shake of her body made Jeremy laugh, and whenever she ducked down or rose up a little, he howled with amusement. And in that moment, Thomas felt his heart swell as warmth cascaded through him. He’d never seen Jeremy this animated before. It was little wonder that his mother appeared to be overcome.
Amelia reared to one side and then turned about while Jeremy clung to the back of her gown. A laugh broke from her lips, as well. Her delight was undeniable until she spun toward the door, her eyes settling on the feet that stood there. Freezing, she looked up at her onlookers from behind a few locks of unpinned hair. She blew at the locks with charming abandonment. Her cheeks were bright from exertion, her eyes conveying every piece of kindness that filled her heart to overflowing.
“Jeremy,” she said. “I think it’s time for us to stop for a moment.”
The boy’s face fell. His mouth twisted and he crossed his arms, but he didn’t move or speak. Thomas stepped toward him. “Jeremy,” he told him gently, “you must climb down from Lady Amelia’s back so she can get up.” The boy’s eyes did not make contact. As usual, it was as if he wasn’t hearing what was being said. “Jeremy,” Thomas tried again, “if you do not climb down, I will have to pick you up.”
Jeremy jerked his head just enough to convey his displeasure. He began twisting from side to side, eyes fixed on the carpet. “No,” he muttered. “No, no, no.”
“I mean it,” Thomas told him sternly. Jeremy didn’t answer. Instead, he unfolded his arms and swung his fists hard. Thomas rushed forward, but before he could reach Jeremy, the child had managed to hit Amelia in the back of the head.
