“God is a part of my life now, and I am being careful to act in a way of which He’d approve.”
Eversham rolled his eyes. “Surely it’s not that difficult. Find a woman who suits you and marry her. No one is going to reject a rich marquis.”
“That’s a cold way to look at life.”
“Ash, what has gotten into you? See here, if you’re that concerned about right and wrong, hold your tongue until my sister arrives. Her notions are firm and unalterable. She won’t hesitate to tell you what she thinks, and most often, she’s right.”
“Your sister is coming? Tonight?” Unaccountably his gut tightened as he remembered how distastefully she’d said the word rakes.
“She’ll be here shortly. I’m forcing her to be social but, even more, to keep company with my wife.” Eversham’s smile was strangely tight. “Amelia’s actions of late have been unseemly, and it is past time she accepted her lot in life.”
Spencer drummed his fingers against his legs. He didn’t much care for bluestockings, either. His mother’s unconventional ways had ruined his parents’ marriage. “You sound perturbed.”
“My sister is creating a mess that I do not care to clean up.” His gaze cut to his chatting wife. “And I surely do not mean to put up with her shenanigans.”
“She’s a bluestocking, correct?”
“A political one, but that is the least of my worries.” Eversham leaned forward, cupping his mouth. “It has come to my attention that she is running a business.”
“Really?” That would not settle well with the dowager set. “Do tell.”
Eversham nodded sagely, keeping his voice low. “I will concede she’s an innovative sort. She has found a way to earn money by finding husbands for young misses in their first Season. Apparently she’s been wildly successful in supplementing her meager income.”
“A hardly shocking venture, Eversham,” Spencer said drily. He’d been expecting something a little more ludicrous. Perhaps hoping for it, fact. Hoping she was less than what she appeared—less than proper, even. Then he could dispense with the doubts about his own character and how she might judge him for past deeds...
Eversham gave a priggish sniff. “Shocking, perhaps not. But most decidedly unacceptable. She is the daughter of an earl, the sister of an earl. I’ll not have it, Ash.” His friend straightened, a frown upon his lips.
“I’ve never known her actions to bother you before. In fact, you’ve hardly mentioned her, and when I met her last night, I didn’t realize she was your sister.” Spencer narrowed his gaze on his friend. “We danced, and I found her to be a most interesting woman.”
“Interesting?” Eversham scoffed. “If you find women who are covered in paint half the time and write weekly letters of complaint to the House of Lords attractive, then you are daft. Her opinions never cease, and they are centered on matters no woman needs to have knowledge of.” His expression changed. “Did you say you danced with her?”
“Quite enjoyably,” Spencer drawled, grinning at how Eversham’s face darkened.
“My sister doesn’t dance.”
“She did with me.”
“She must not have realized who you were.” His friend’s countenance grew serious. “For all my talk, I love Amelia deeply. Do not treat her as a pet lady. I plan to marry her off.”
Spencer’s chest tightened at his friend’s implication. “Do you mean to say I am not good enough for your sister?”
“Let’s just say your past has not enamored me of your husbandly qualities. Either way, Amelia would never have you, but we can make a wager if you’d like?” Eversham let out an annoying chuckle that made Spencer’s knuckles itch.
“Those days are behind me.” He scowled. “And it is not I who is treating her as a dispensable item, now, is it?”
“Trust me, she is not your type.” Eversham inclined his head, his gaze shifting past Spencer. “But be the judge of that yourself, for here she comes, and knowing my twin and that particular expression upon her face, she is not in the best of moods.”
Indeed, Spencer turned to see Lady Amelia walking toward their box, the striking blonde from Lady Havern’s party trailing behind her. Lady Amelia’s appeared to be quite a reluctant walk, and though he could not read her eyes behind her enormous spectacles, he knew the exact moment she recognized him.
Her walk stuttered. A delightful curve graced her mouth. He admired her lips for a moment before looking away. He’d always had an affinity for a smile. There was nothing worse than a woman with a pinched mouth. Thin lips that knew only how to frown.
But Lady Amelia did not seem to suffer such a malady. She entered their box regally, her mouth tipped into a sincere smile. The scent of rosewater filled the air. When he stood for the ladies, all his senses engaged until, for that moment, he saw nothing but the lovely woman beside him.
Amelia’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her mouth felt dry and her palms sweaty. Every nerve tingled and all her senses seemed heightened, for beside her stood the very man she’d danced with the other night. A man she thought never to meet again despite his friendship with her brother.
Lord Ashwhite.
She felt his regard intensely, for he had not stopped staring since she’d entered the box. Perhaps her spectacles sat askew? But no, she’d have noticed that. Her hat, mayhap, crooked upon her head? Self-consciously she touched its brim and noted that it remained straight.
“Ah, sister, you’ve made it.” Eversham’s voice sounded overly bright. “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Ashwhite.”
“We’ve met.” She frowned at the sound of her voice. Breathy and quite unlike her normal self.
“I have not had the pleasure,” piped up Lydia. She hadn’t yet sat and dropped a perfect curtsy.
“This is Miss Lydia Stanley, a cousin who hails from Sussex for her first Season,” Amelia said.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Lord Ashwhite offered his own bow.
Amelia watched the marquis carefully to see if he showed any interest, but his attention to Lydia was perfunctory at best. An odd relief filtered through her.
Then Lord Ashwhite turned to her and bowed. As he rose, the smile that graced his face caught Amelia’s breath. A strange fluttering danced through her stomach. Feeling uncertain, she returned his manners with an inclination of her head.
“Why don’t you sit by me,” she said to Cousin Lydia, forcing her gaze to leave Lord Ashwhite’s and hoping desperately the strange feelings spreading through her would disappear. She must have eaten something bad earlier. Or perhaps the stress of having to be in Lady Eversham’s company was giving her the jitters?
Amelia spotted a familiar face in another
