A Lady of Esteem (10 page)

The dance pulled them away from each other for a time, but when they came together again, he asked, “Did I hear Sir Hollis reciting poetry earlier?”

Amelia tried not to giggle at the memory. The man’s hastily constructed ode to her pink gown had been sweet, but horrible. “Yes. He was quite enthusiastic about it.”

They parted again, and she could only smile at him as the dance moved along. Eventually they stood in the middle once more.

“I never understood before what drove all the young fops to spout flowery bits of terrible poetry.” Anthony took her hand to walk her around the end of the line of dancers. “I think I do now.”

Amelia couldn’t hold back a small smile.

The dance drew to a close. Griffith was waiting by Caroline and Miranda when they returned. “My drawing room is sure to resemble a hothouse by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Gibson will have to station himself permanently by your door,” Anthony added.

Miranda looped an arm through Amelia’s. “I’ve no doubt the man is looking forward to it. Didn’t you notice the maids clearing the flower arrangements from the hall tables as we were leaving? I think the servants are anticipating your success as much as I am.”

Caroline cocked her head to the side. “Gibson
did
seem more exuberant this evening. Why is that?”

“Because everyone loves our dear Amelia.”

Miranda could not have said anything that would please Amelia more. As long as her old friends knew she hadn’t forgotten them, she could enjoy everything this new life had to offer.

A tall woman with icy blond hair walked by, eyes narrowed as she looked at Amelia and Anthony.

Perhaps everyone wasn’t as happy with her new good fortune as Miranda seemed to think.

Trent, Amelia, and Miranda strolled slowly down the path beside Rotten Row. The place bustled with society’s upper crust, but Amelia was content to focus on her strolling partners. Over the past three weeks the sheen of the promenade had worn off a bit as she realized others were looking around in judgment instead of fascination.

“It feels odd having Trent out of the house,” Miranda said.

Amelia thought of all the school stories Trent had shared. “Hasn’t he been out of the house for years?”

“But his home was still with us. Now he has lodgings of his own.”

“Imagine how strange it is for me. He’s living in my old home.” Amelia grinned at Miranda, hoping to disguise how strange it truly made her feel. She’d been visiting several times a week with Mrs. Harris, Lydia, and Fenton. Those visits would have to stop since Trent had officially taken possession of the house yesterday.

“You realize I’m here, don’t you?” Trent asked.

Miranda continued the conversation without acknowledging his interruption. “I suppose it would be difficult for you. I mean, he’s eating at your old dining table.” A wide grin split Miranda’s face. “Do you think he kept all the curtains? I believe I remember seeing lace in a window or two.”

“Mrs. Harris planned to remove the more feminine frippery from around the house.”

Trent coughed. “I am walking between the two of you, even.”

Miranda frowned. “That is no fun at all. I shall continue thinking of him drowning in ruffles. It makes me laugh.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. The image was certainly a funny one, but it was also disturbing. Trent was eating off dishes she used every day in her former life. He was sitting on the sofas that she’d had re-covered. At least Mrs. Harris had set him up in one of the other bedrooms so she didn’t have to picture that awkward scenario.

“How was your first evening in your new home, Trent?” Amelia hoped hearing Trent’s stories would make the house more his than hers.

“Oh, so we’ve decided I can be part of the conversation now?” Trent straightened his cuffs. “You neglected to mention that you lived in the strangest house in London.”

Amelia frowned in confusion.

Miranda laughed. “I’ve been in the house, brother. There’s nothing strange about it.”

Trent grunted. “They ate dinner with me.”

Amelia giggled.

“Who ate dinner with you?” Miranda’s brows drew down over her eyes.

Amelia’s giggles grew into a laugh. She could visualize what must have happened.

“Who do you
think
ate dinner with me?” Trent stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You couldn’t have invited guests over. Half of your things are still at Hawthorne House.”

Amelia gave in. The idea of Mrs. Harris and Fenton sitting down to dinner and treating Trent the way they had treated her was too comedic to resist. The brown ringlets Iris had so carefully fashioned that morning bobbed happily against her head. It certainly wasn’t fashionable to laugh this loud or this long, but Amelia didn’t care.

That realization distracted her brain enough to allow the laughter to begin to ebb. She didn’t care! From the first moment Amelia had met Miranda, she had been constantly worried about her dress, her manners, and her speech. The desire to impress engulfed her, even after securing a place in the family.

Her gaze flew around the circle, touching on the now familiar faces. Miranda smiled though confusion filled her eyes. Trent’s disgruntled frown was exaggerated in an obvious attempt to make her laugh harder. She loved these people, and they loved her back.

A blessed freedom she hadn’t realized she’d missed the past few months filled her heart. It was a new confidence that would probably falter at the next ballroom door, but for that moment she was nothing but herself. It felt glorious.

“Wasn’t it better than eating alone, Trent?” Amelia’s giggles settled into a wide grin.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have the chance to find out.”

“Find out what? If it’s as delightful as Amelia’s smile indicates, I want to be included in the revelation.”

Amelia turned, a smile still stretched across her face, to see Anthony dismounting from his horse. Tossing the reins to his groom he approached the group. Amelia felt some of her peaceful confidence sliding away. She clung to it with ruthless determination.

“What are we talking about?” Anthony looked back and forth from Amelia to Trent.

“Trent bought the lease to my house,” Amelia said.

“What?” Anthony all but yelled the question and sent an accusatory look at Trent.

“Well, she wasn’t living in it any longer. And to be fair, it wasn’t actually her house. It was Griffith’s.”

Miranda crossed her arms and huffed. “Would someone please tell me what happened last night that is so funny? Trent, did you or did you not enjoy a quiet dinner at home?”

“Oh, I was at home. No guests over at all.”

“Then what could have possibly happened?”

Trent gestured at Amelia. “Why don’t you tell them what you neglected to warn me about?”

Amelia blushed as she smiled. “I would have to wager a guess that Mrs. Harris and Fenton ate dinner with you.”

“No!” Miranda shook her head in shock.

Trent nodded. “Lydia too. Afterward, Fenton and I even sat down to a glass of port.”

Amelia’s giggles started all over again.

“Isn’t that the butler?” Anthony asked.

“Yes. Yes, he is.” Trent’s voice was flat as he closed his eyes and hung his head.

Miranda and Anthony joined in Amelia’s renewed laughter.

“Would you like me to speak to them?” Amelia offered.

“No, I don’t need you to speak to my servants. How awful would that be if every time I wanted to get something done I had to go across town to collect my brother’s ward.”

A horrible thought crossed Amelia’s mind. “You’re not going to dismiss them, are you?”

Trent smiled at her. “No. I think, given time, I’ll enjoy having the most unconventional house in the neighborhood. Truth be told, I was wondering how I would handle living alone. It was going to be quite a transition, having no one to question my comings and goings, no one to talk to in the evenings. I’m sure it will be tricky
finding the right people to fill in the rest of the staff, but I think it might work for me.”

“I’m glad. I’d be happy to help you find suitable employees. I know several people who might fit in well.”

“I’ll manage.” Trent shook his head, but his smile was bright. “Well, Anthony, care to help me see these ladies home? Then I believe I shall go spend a few hours at the club and make Mrs. Harris wonder what happened to me.”

Anthony offered Amelia his arm. “I would love to, Trent.”

The walk back to Hawthorne House was uneventful, filled with meaningless chatter about the weather and the upcoming parties. As Amelia climbed the stairs, she realized she had gotten through an entire conversation with two attractive, titled gentlemen, and she hadn’t once twisted her ribbons around her fingers.

She smiled and danced the rest of the way to her room. Life was good, indeed.

Anthony slapped his gloves against his palm as he climbed the stairs to Hawthorne House. The betting book at the club had convinced him that his behavior now was nearly as bad as it had been two years before. If he allowed it to continue, someone was going to be hurt.

There was an entry for a bet that he’d be married to Amelia by summer.

Underneath that was a bet that Lady Helena would manage to drag him to the altar.

Two pages over, a line stated that Lord Howard had bet twenty-five pounds that Griffith would call Anthony out for his dealings with Amelia.

It didn’t seem to matter that Anthony had never declared himself, at least not in so many words. All of London saw his infatuation.

But they also knew his reputation.

He couldn’t let Amelia get caught up in the tentacles of his past, not when she had so many opportunities now. Being Griffith’s ward meant the men were lining up to dance with her. The drawing room saw a never-ending stream of gentlemen on days when the ladies were at home.

How could he ask her to choose him over one of those more respectable men?

The door opened before he could lift the brass knocker.

“I’m afraid no one is receiving visitors today, my lord,” Gibson said.

Anthony thought through all the plausible reasons why he should be allowed entry when it was obvious that no one else in London was making it past the portal.

Before Anthony could speak, Gibson continued, “It would be a shame to waste your walk here, my lord. Perhaps you’d like to borrow a book from His Grace’s library before you return home?”

A book? The butler was offering him a book? Anthony narrowed his gaze as he saw the glint in the eyes of the otherwise stoic servant. “A book, you say?”

“Yes, my lord. I would feel obliged to grant you, as a friend of the family, access to the library.” Gibson raised a brow.

“A book is the very reason I’m here, Gibson. How very astute of you.”

Anthony thought Gibson might have rolled his eyes as he gestured Anthony into the hall, but the crafty butler turned his head so Anthony couldn’t be sure.

After shedding his coat and hat, Anthony jogged up the stairs to the library, hoping he’d interpreted the hidden message correctly. Knowing Amelia’s close relationship with the servants, he wasn’t sure what he would find. Amelia, anxious to see him, or Griffith, demanding he declare himself.

His heart beat faster as he approached the library, anticipating seeing Amelia curled up with a book or lazily browsing the shelves. The fact that he’d come here with the purpose of breaking their unofficial courtship fled his mind and a grin broke across his face. Maybe she would be on a ladder cleaning. There would be a much different outcome were she to tumble into his arms now.

He slammed a mental door on the path his mind tried to take.

The object of his musings was not lounging, but furtively searching the library. “Looking for something in particular?”

She whirled around, eyes wide. “Anthony!” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Er, I mean, Lord Raebourne.”

“I think I like Anthony.” He knew he liked
Anthony
. Hearing his name on her lips sent a shiver from his heart to his toes. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn’t find the will to walk away from this woman.

“I hear you referred to in that way—I mean, here in the house. I did not mean to presume—”

“Stop.” Anthony crossed the room and took her by the shoulders, relishing the precious, fragile feeling of her small bones under his hands.

A blush stained her cheeks as her gaze darted to the floor. Feeling pained at the loss of her deep brown eyes, he hooked a finger under her chin to regain her attention. His voice was hoarse and quiet when he spoke. “I like hearing you call me Anthony. I like it very much.”

Her smile was small and shy but reached all the way to her eyes. “Truly?”

Pleasure at her smile drowned his guilt. Maybe he could be enough for her. He was willing to spend his whole life trying.

“Truly.” Anthony slid his hands down her arms until he clasped her hands in his own. “May I call you Amelia?”

She nodded.

He wanted to kiss her. To take her in his arms and mark her as his own. But he’d just promised to give her the best he had to offer. With great reluctance he released her hands and forced himself to take a few steps to the bookcase, putting a globe between them. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh! Nothing, well, not nothing. It would be silly to look for nothing. I thought that with the number of books here there might be a family Bible, but I suppose it is at the country house.”

Of all the answers Anthony had expected, the family Bible wasn’t among them. “Are you wanting to check up on the births and deaths of various Hawthornes?”

“I was more interested in the Bible part than the family part.” Amelia twisted her fingers into her ribbons.

He’d told himself he wouldn’t touch her again, didn’t trust himself to do so, but he couldn’t bear to see her tie her fingers up in knots. “As adorably charming as I find this little habit of yours, I would rather you not be nervous around me.”