Dolt.
“I’m not tarnished in the least, Hawks,” Amelia said stiffly. “My reputation is precisely as it should be—pristine. I am as pristine as it is possible for a woman of my years and station to be.”
Which was nothing but the truth. She was twenty-one years old and quite as pristine as any normal twenty-one-year-old woman could be expected to be.
“And it is quite obvious to anyone with eyes to see that you are exactly so, Lady Amelia,” Sophia said. “Pristine in the extreme.”
It was most peculiar, but Sophia made being pristine sound like an insult when it was quite obviously nothing of the sort.
“As bad as that, then?” Hawksworth drawled, looking at Amelia in what could only be described as pity.
Before Amelia could draw breath to berate Hawks, almost completely past caring that Sophia Dalby would see her in a not entirely attractive light for doing so, and almost equally certain that Sophia might derive malicious amusement in revealing her lapse to her future husband, the duke, Sophia answered Hawks.
“Nothing, Lord Hawksworth, is as bad as all that,” Sophia said, looking kindly at Amelia. “We shall act quickly, one might almost say with martial aggression, and the matter will be settled. Your sister, the lovely Lady Amelia, will find a most suitable match, and her reputation will only be enhanced by the endeavor. I trust that is satisfactory?”
It was with some horror that Amelia realized that she was being discussed in some mildly disparaging fashion for no cause whatsoever.
“There is nothing whatsoever wrong with my reputation!” Amelia said, not entirely certain what she was defending herself against, but somehow certain that she did require some sort of defense. Ridiculous, really, as she had lived her life beautifully and indeed, flawlessly. “I am exactly the sort of woman to make any man proud, and indeed I think I would make an ideal duchess. I am quite certain of it.
Quite
certain,” she finished a bit heatedly.
Sophia smiled, her dark eyes flashing. “And it is just this level of conviction and fire which you must display before your suitors, Lady Amelia. A proper woman of proper fire is how they must see you. A natural fit for you, certainly. You shall not have a bit of trouble, I am quite certain. Why, I should not be at all surprised if the matter of your marriage is not settled within a week’s time. The men of your list are all in Town at present, which is most convenient. A week’s time, at the very latest,” Sophia said musingly.
It was not at all reassuring. It should have been, but Sophia had the most unappealing gleam in her black eyes. It was nearly impossible not to shudder in anticipation.
“I do think that I should be present,” Hawks said, sounding not at all glad about it. “I can’t think that it would look quite the thing if I were not in attendance.”
“Lord Hawksworth,” Sophia said, leaning forward and giving Hawks a charming view of her décolleté, “surely you must realize that a man of your bearing and prominence in Society would hamper Amelia from making the necessary . . . maneuvers a woman must deploy in snaring a duke of the realm. Surely you have ample experience at avoiding ladies with similar goals. You are, as you must be aware, a most compelling man with absolutely everything to recommend you. A woman would be a fool indeed if she did not do everything in her power to entertain your interest.”
Hawks, the fool, was hanging on to Sophia’s every word and looked as sophisticated as a four-week-old pup.
“True, true,” he said in an outrageous display of false humility.
“Perhaps, to save your reputation and not make you the subject of speculation,” Sophia said soothingly, “you would enjoy an invitation to Marshfield Park, the Dalby estate. My family is there now, doing all those things that men so love to do in the country. I’m certain they would welcome you into their midst with delight. Shall I make the arrangements?”
It was the most amazing thing, but Amelia could almost see Hawks imagining himself running amid the fields and streams of England in the midst of a pack of Indians, whooping like the worst savage. He was clearly enchanted by the vision. One only hoped he kept his shoes on. And his scalp.
“If it’s no imposition,” he said blandly, the worst bit of acting Amelia had seen in a year.
“Nothing of the sort,” Sophia said, casting an amused gaze at Amelia, who found herself smiling in return.
Sophia Dalby could manage a man better than anyone Amelia had ever seen. It was positively inspiring.
And so it was that, except for the boring though necessary details, Hawksworth was disposed of.
AS far as boring details went, Amelia did think that it wouldn’t be the worst idea she ever had to consult with Louisa about her decision to rely upon Sophia Dalby’s plan. Or that would be the reason she gave Louisa for dropping in unexpectedly, if Louisa even asked. It was so very convenient to her plans that Louisa now resided at Hyde House as Hyde House was the London residence of the Marquis of Iveston, as well as all the other sons of Hyde. So very, very convenient. Louisa couldn’t have married a better man for Amelia’s schemes if she’d planned to do so for a decade, which she had most definitely not.
Amelia was admitted to Hyde House, a truly imposing structure, and escorted into the music room. It was a sumptuous room, newly papered, and littered with the necessary musical instruments to support its name. Neither the Marquis of Iveston nor any of his unmarried younger brothers were in view. It was most unfortunate that Iveston or even Cranleigh, the next oldest brother and an earl, was not littered about the music room with the harp and the pianoforte. Nearly before disappointment could find its way into Amelia’s heart, Louisa entered with a saucy grin, her curling ginger hair looking slightly mussed. She wore a gown Amelia had seen her in often, a simple white muslin with clever pleating at the bodice and amber thread in a leaf design at the hem. Amelia was relieved that she did not look down-at-the-heel in her white muslin with the green-sprigged design. One did want to look one’s best when calling at Hyde House, while at the same time not looking as if one had tried too vigorously to look just the thing.
“Lost your comb, Louisa?” Amelia said with a grin that she was certain Louisa would find cheeky.
“I find that there is no real point in taking supreme care with my toilette, Amelia, as Blakes will make a mess of me within an hour,” Louisa said. “He is most inconsiderate that way. It is quite annoying.”
Naturally, Louisa did not look annoyed in the slightest. She looked completely delighted, which was perfectly understandable. Amelia could only hope that her future husband would delight her just as completely. In fact, she was determined that he do so.
“He sounds quite a handful,” Amelia said, to which Louisa laughed and then blushed.
Oh, dear.
That could have multiple meanings, couldn’t it? “You are most content, Louisa, are you not?
“I am. Truly,” Louisa answered, the blush still pink on her cheeks and throat.
She appeared most sincere, which did give Amelia even more assurance that her minor conspiracy with Sophia would bear the appropriate fruit.
“But what of you, Amelia? Would you not seek your own contentment? You want a duke, and there are only two available, yet wouldn’t either one of them do? Why, even Lord Iveston will be a duke one day. You might consider him.”
Amusing, as usual. Did Louisa actually think that she needed to remind Amelia as to the number of dukes on the market? And as to Iveston, could Louisa possibly believe that Amelia had overlooked him? Regarding Iveston even more specifically, now that Louisa was part of the family, it did open up all sorts of opportunities for Amelia to have reasonable access to Hyde House. Had Louisa not realized that? Amelia certainly had.
Sometimes Amelia wondered if Louisa were as intelligent as she ought to have been.
“Louisa, I
have
considered him. The problem is that he has not considered me. Nor have Edenham or Calbourne. You see Iveston often now, as indeed you must see the entire family regularly; does he appear at all interested in marrying?”
“But of course he doesn’t, Amelia. He’s an eligible man and they are the most unwilling sort of men, completely repulsed by women, by all appearances.”
“How typical. And how unfortunate,” Amelia said softly, casting her gaze to the design of the carpet beneath her feet. “It would be so much more convenient if he were at least mildly interested in me. You don’t suppose I could entice him, do you? He is very much reserved; it is quite his most well-reputed trait. Perhaps I might be able to lure Iveston into some sort of observable interest?”
“Observable? Why on earth need it be observable, Amelia?” Louisa asked.
Amelia smoothed her muslin skirts and lifted her gaze to her cousin. “For the most simple of reasons, Louisa. If it is not observable, how am I to know if I have gained his interest? I can hardly read his thoughts.”
“At certain times more than others it is quite possible to read a man’s thoughts,” Louisa said with another faint blush staining her throat.
Tea and cakes were brought in just then, which resulted in Louisa busying herself with serving and Amelia busying herself with smiling pleasantly as she accepted her cup and plate. Once the servants were out of the room, they resumed their conversation.
“Certainly there is more to it than that, Louisa. There must be. A man may think very much, yet do very little. Or may do the wrong thing altogether and then,” Amelia said, shrugging, “nothing.”
“Surely not
nothing
,” Louisa said, leaning forward, her tea and cake entirely forgotten.
“Very nearly nothing. I could even find myself ruined.”
“You don’t sound very nervous about it, I must say,” Louisa said.
“Don’t I? But of course I am. I thought that was perfectly obvious.”
“I still don’t see how you can find yourself ruined by a man who does nothing. Are we talking about a specific man? What
have
you been hiding from me, Amelia? I’ve never seen you with any man, doing nothing or not. Or is it that some man has done the wrong thing? Have I got it all turned round?”
“But of course not. There is no man. There is no
nothing
. I was only speculating on how difficult it is to find the right man who will do the right thing. Before Lord Henry Blakesley dragged you off into that closet, you were quite of the same mind. I remember that most clearly.”
Louisa eyed her curiously in response, to which Amelia smiled blandly and stirred her tea. It was quite a nuisance that Louisa had suddenly started to pay attention in a conversation that was not entirely about her. An air of innocence was what was required in circumstances such as these, and Amelia had quite a lot of practice at innocence. Or at least the appearance of it, which was more important than actually being innocent, wasn’t it?
THE Earl of Cranleigh came upon Lady Amelia Caversham in the foyer of Hyde House. She looked innocent, as was her habit. He knew she was not.
She looked fresh and flushed, bright and smooth, her hair glossy and shining with health and good soap, her cheeks soft as goose down. It was perfectly typical of her. She was wearing white with a green design and her eyes looked particularly blue at the moment.
He was not cheered to see her, which he hoped was obvious to her.
He was well aware that she was in Hyde House to see Iveston, the heir apparent and the unattainable prize of every woman of good family and good teeth for the past ten Seasons. Hard luck for Amelia that she had stumbled upon him instead of Iveston. He wasn’t an heir apparent, was he? She would have hardly any use for him at all.
“Lady Amelia,” he said, bowing to her.
“Lord Cranleigh,” she said, making a very pretty and entirely proper curtsey. She had acquired the habit somewhere, likely in the same field where she had acquired perpetual innocence, of looking nearly perfect at any given moment. Naturally, as the daughter of a duke, this was to be expected. The thing was, she did it better than anyone else. It was most annoying. Calculated perfection was a thing not to be desired. If he were on easy terms with her, he would tell her just that. But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t. What he would do was keep her away from Iveston. Iveston she could not have, no matter how she had perfected perfection.
Hell and blast. That sounded idiotic, but he knew it made sense.
Perfect
sense.
“What a surprise to see you, Lord Cranleigh,” she said, her gaze raking him from his boots to his collar. If seeing him were a surprise, it did not look a pleasant one. Cranleigh slid his gaze to the butler and felt his pulse pound against his temples. “Are you all at home, then? Lord Iveston as well?” she asked sweetly, her blue eyes meeting his briefly.
“Lord Iveston is engaged at present, Lady Amelia. You shall be forced to make do with me, I’m afraid,” he said, taking a step toward her. She took a step away from him, toward the front door, an awkward little dance between them. The butler looked on, stone-faced.
“Forced, Lord Cranleigh? That does sound a bit like you, I’m afraid,” she said stiffly, straightening the seam on her left glove, avoiding his eyes. “You don’t expect Lord Iveston to be available, then?”
“Not in the next few minutes, no,” he gritted out between his teeth.
“How very disappointing,” she said, lifting her chin and staring him fully in the face for the first time. Most irregular behavior for her and wandering very nearly into being not entirely proper. How peculiar. He could not think what had changed in the past day or so to make her behave so boldly.
Ah, but how stupid. Of course. Her cousin had married his brother. How difficult would it be for her to marry Iveston now?
More difficult than she dared to imagine.
“I’m certain it must be,” he said coldly.