Page 13 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)
A melia studied the vision in pink silk gliding into their group. Julia Whistler, the beautiful young widow of the Viscount of Foxcroft, delivered the aged gentleman three healthy sons and ensured herself a life of comfort and freedom. The new viscount was just ten years old.
So young, just as Sam had been when he’d inherited.
Amelia had not yet met Lady Foxcroft but envied her for her independence and sophistication. Her black hair was smoothed into a neat coil, and she wore a tall black feather in her hair. Her eyes were a stunning green, like emeralds.
“Graham?” Lady Foxcroft smiled warmly at him, ignoring Deveraux’s swoon. “Did I see you at the Den earlier today?”
“Perhaps,” Graham said, his voice rough as though he’d swallowed gravel. “May I introduce Lady Amelia Clark? Lady Amelia, the Viscountess Foxcroft.”
The stunning woman turned her attention to Amelia. “Lord Alston’s sister? A pleasure, my dear. My, you do look like him.”
“Thank you, Lady Foxcroft.”
“Please, call me Julia. Graham and Alston do. I dislike formalities among friends.” Her gaze moved back to Blakewood and shifted to something Amelia could only describe as heated.
Amelia went cold, fighting an uncomfortable shiver as many ideas and feelings occurred at once—thoughts she did not want to investigate—one of which seemed suspiciously like jealousy. But she couldn’t be jealous. Of what? She knew nothing about this woman or the extent of her relationship to Blakewood. She only knew that this woman looked at him with such intent that Amelia had to wonder how certain Lady Foxcroft—Julia—was of his regard in return. How well did they know each other? And what was the Den? Amelia stood beside Blakewood, hand cupped around his elbow, and shrunk inwardly, feeling young and insignificant. A child who needed to be sent to bed while the adults discussed adult things.
Amelia would not accept these thoughts. “My brother had to go up north to tend to an estate. Something about well water, wasn’t that right, Graham?” Amelia turned to him, rubbing his forearm as if she also knew him quite well—she was his fiancée, was she not?—well enough to touch him with such familiarity, and looking up at him just the way Julia looked at him.
Julia caught sight of her hand stroking Graham’s arm, and Amelia could have sworn the faintest of frowns marred her face before swiftly disappearing behind the beautiful mask of serenity she wore.
“Yes, the well water may be tainted. Terrible news. He will return as soon as matters are rectified.”
“How unfortunate,” the viscountess murmured, her attention bouncing between them. “And you remain here, Lady Amelia? Are you not alone in the household and unmarried?” She presented a convincing frown of concern.
Amelia wasn’t certain how to read this woman. It was a pity. Before meeting her, Amelia had imagined becoming friends with her at one point or another, but now... she had a feeling she would soon come to dislike Julia Whistler. Was she a genuine person? Or was this whole persona a performance?
“I’m looking after her,” Graham said.
“Graham is my escort in my brother’s place.”
“Oh?” Julia raised a brow.
Deveraux cleared his throat, reminding everyone of his existence. Amelia might consider him handsome if he weren’t so young. Though on reflection, he was also Sam’s age. And her own. Odd.
“I heard a rumor . . .” Deveraux said.
“Oh, do tell.” Amelia winked at him. “There is nothing more exciting than hearing scintillating gossip. Something that stirs wicked intentions.”
Blakewood cleared his throat. Amelia ignored the stern look he directed at her. Instead, she beamed at Deveraux, fluttering her lashes. She knew she was only using the poor man to taunt Graham for making her feel insignificant and jealous over this delightful woman, not that he had done it on purpose. But just the idea of him and Julia together made her stomach burn with acid, and her feelings needed an outlet.
Deveraux’s face reddened as he stuttered. Julia sent her a wicked half-smile. Dash it all, Amelia did want to like her. She wasn’t that much older than Amelia, but she was wildly more experienced and worldly. A woman who controlled her own fate.
Envy only stoked the burn in Amelia. Was this the kind of woman who could hold Blakewood’s attention?
Deveraux rocked back on his heels, eyeing Blakewood warily. “Uh, well.”
“Let me guess,” Blakewood said dryly. “You heard Lady Amelia and I are betrothed?”
Deveraux turned redder. “Yes.”
“It’s not a rumor if it’s true.” Blakewood glanced around the room, appearing bored, and Amelia suppressed a smile. Perfect sophisticated aloofness.
Julia’s full, red lips formed an O of genuine surprise, and then she beamed, but the smile did not reach her eyes. She said to both of them, “Felicitations.”
Amelia tried to smile happily, but all she felt was awkward. “Our thanks. We only announced it yesterday.”
“Alston must be thrilled,” Julia said, with a touch more genuine interest.
The tension in Amelia’s spine softened. Perhaps there was nothing of consequence between Julia and Graham. Or if there had been, it was long ago and they were just friends now. It didn’t matter, Amelia reminded herself. Gentlemen did as they pleased with whom they pleased.
“He is,” Amelia said, giving Blakewood a side glance. He stood stoic, as if they were discussing the weather. She dug her nails into his arm, and he focused on her. “Isn’t he?” she prodded.
“Yes. We’ve been close friends for years, and now we’ll be family.”
“They’re already like brothers,” Amelia added sheepishly. “My brother will be relieved to have another male in the house instead of just his annoying sister.”
“But you won’t live together, won’t you?” Julia asked. “You’ll have your own home to care for once you’re married.”
Amelia blinked. “No, I wouldn’t leave my brother alone. Not until he’s married.” She looked to Blakewood. “And you agree, don’t you? We can’t leave him alone.”
Graham was already nodding in agreement.
“How peculiar, but I suppose Graham and Alston are such close friends they wouldn’t mind such an arrangement,” Julia replied.
The strains of a violin blanketed the conversation, and the guests were invited to take their seats. Graham led Amelia toward the chairs just as her Aunt Ruth entered, searching for her with her hawk-like gaze.
“Julia, Mr. Deveraux, why don’t you sit with us?” Amelia asked.
“I’d love to,” Julia replied.
They filtered through the crowd until they found four chairs. Blakewood and Amelia sat, and Julia took the chair on Blakewood’s left and Deveraux beside her. Which left the seat next to Amelia perilously vacant. Amelia set her fan down and searched for a friendly face to border her. To her relief, Lady Hendricks took the seat, smiling in greeting. She was hard of hearing and rarely spoke, for which Amelia was thankful. Her luck ended as her Aunt Ruth and Nelson took the seats behind her. Amelia tensed as Nelson put a hand on the back of her chair. His vile finger brushed the back of her neck, and she resisted a shiver.
The crowd quieted as a trio of young women took the platform with their violin, flute, and cello. Amelia turned to Blakewood, hoping in spite of herself that he’d noticed Nelson’s forwardness and would turn that powerful glare upon someone else for a change. But he was turned toward Julia, and they were speaking quietly.
Amelia’s insides went up in flames. She faced the front, waving her fan as a flush of anger washed through her.
Fine. So she was jealous. Hadn’t he stated only yesterday that he wanted to deal with Nelson himself. But now he was so easily and completely distracted by the incomparable Julia. Nelson’s breath fanned the nape of her neck, and she stiffened.
“A pleasant evening to you, cousin.”
Amelia ignored him. The music had begun, and she gave all her attention to the young women who nervously devoted themselves to their instruments.
Blakewood and Julia paused their conversation for a moment, but then resumed as the stringed instruments grew louder. Her stomach somersaulted as images of them together, laughing, dancing, and staring at each other like lovers, flipped through her mind like the pages of a book. A hand touched her shoulder and Amelia lashed out with her fan. Nelson yelped behind her and Amelia grinned with satisfaction.
Blakewood glanced her way. Finally.
He leaned close. “Is something amiss?”
“Just a bug. Never you mind. Don’t let me interrupt you.” She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his gaze. When she met his stare, she raised a brow.
His jaw flexed as he turned back toward the performers. It took Amelia a moment longer to pull her gaze from his profile. She thought she knew who Mr. Graham Blakewood was, but she’d never seen this side of him: the handsome man who drew beautiful admirers. She could admit it bothered her more than it should. It was clear he had some sort of an intimate history with this woman, and that knowledge turned her stomach sideways. Amelia couldn’t stop her traitorous thoughts from comparing herself to Julia and finding herself lacking. Was this the kind of woman Blakewood admired?
She didn’t want to care, but she did.