The Bishop's Daughter (29 page)

A friendship, a marriage of convenience, was all he desired. She would have to learn to accept that if she meant to be his wife. Fortunately she had never worn her heart on her sleeve. Justin need never know of her love for him. Maybe she had not enough pride to refuse his offer, but she had enough to conceal that folly from him. She ate another chocolate and returned to her stitching, trying to appear as casual about the morning's events as Justin did.

The two men busied themselves righting her workbasket, gathering up the pincushion, thread, and skeins of yarn. Ramsey straightened, examining a small leather-bound volume

"You astonish me, Miss Sinclair. I would not have thought anyone as unromantic as you proclaim yourself to be would have a taste for Byronic poetry."

With a sinking sensation she realized Ramsey had gotten hold of her edition of The Corsair. It must have fallen out when the workbasket tipped.

"Oh, no! That belongs to my companion." She snatched it out of his hands just as he was opening the book to the flyleaf.

Ramsey looked considerably surprised when she stuffed the volume behind the sofa cushion, leaning against it. Better that he should think her a bit touched in the upper works than he should read that foolish inscription. How his lip would curl in scorn.

"I shall have to tell Effie to be more careful with her books," she said.

"Indeed." Ramsey hooded his eyes, the look in them unfathomable.

Justin rubbed his hands together. "I suppose I should hasten back to Penborough to convey the glad tidings to my mother and Clarice."

"Yes," Aurelia said wryly. "Only fancy how astounded they will be."

Justin laughed. "Alt, Reely, that is what I like best about you. You are such a jokesmith.-

"Truly. I am so amusing, I laugh at myself, sometimes." The words nearly caught in her throat. If only he and Mr. Ramsey would leave. Her smile was feeling strained, and absurd tears were beginning to prickle at the back of her eyes. She prepared to see the gentlemen out, but as she tried to set her needlework aside, she was appalled to realize she had sewn all the way through the linen into the fabric of her dress.

Amelia nearly groaned aloud. It was as if the Fates conspired this morning to make her appear a total fool. She settled the frame back onto her lap, hoping that neither Justin nor Mr. Ramsey—especially not Mr. Ramsey—had noticed.

"Forgive me if I don't see you to the door," she said, "since we do not stand on ceremony here."

Justin smiled, his mind apparently on nothing more than escape. He bent over and placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek, assuring her he would call upon her again very soon. The kiss was so far from what she had hoped for after his proposal that her heart did not even skip a beat.

She felt a surge of relief as he strode toward the door, but Everard Ramsey seemed determined to discomfit her to the last. While she sat with her hands draped awkwardly over the linen, trying to pretend nothing was amiss, the man lingered. Finding another spool of thread, he leisurely replaced it in her sewing basket before ducking into a low bow to make his farewells.

"Thank you for a most, er, interesting morning, Miss Sinclair. I hope we will meet again, soon."

And I hope you choke on your own cravat, she thought. Aloud, she said, "So nice of you to call. Good day, sir."

"Come along, Ev," Justin called from the threshold. "If I cannot ride Trueblood, I may need you to take me up in your curricle."

As though oblivious of Justin's impatience, Ramsey slowly raised one of Aurelia's hands and carried it briefly to his lips. Struggling to appear composed, she dared not move until the music room door closed behind the two men.

"Thank God," she said. No matter how disastrous the rest of the morning had been, at least she could congratulate herself upon having hoodwinked the sharp-eyed Mr. Ramsey. She relaxed, allowing her hands to fall back into her lap. It was then she realized Ramsey had somehow found opportunity for dropping an object on top of the stitchery.

Aurelia emitted a heavy sigh as her fingers closed over her scissors.