Page 8 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

A melia wore a deep-maroon day dress. She matched the burgundy roses that covered the archway entering Lady Cecily’s garden perfectly. She’d tossed away her virginal white gowns a year ago and never looked back. Now Aunt Ruth glared at her from the refreshment table. Amelia pretended not to see her, or she’d be trapped into speaking with her. But she turned away, and there stood Nelson instead. Amelia didn’t bother hiding her slight grimace. After all, he didn’t hide the fact that he only wanted to marry her for her money.

“Dearest cousin, what a delight to see you.” His gaze roved over her body as he strolled nearer. Unlike her, Sam, and their father, Aunt Ruth and Nelson had inherited the brown locks of their fraternal grandfather. But they did share eye color. He smiled broadly as he met her gaze again.

“Nelson,” Amelia replied dryly.

He pouted his lips. “Not as delighted to see me as I am to see you? Whyever not?”

Amelia took a long sip of her rum punch before answering. “Do you want the truth?”

Someone jerked her cup from her grasp, causing droplets to spill down her chest and the front of her bodice. Amelia turned in outrage to see her Aunt Ruth.

She pushed a new cup into Amelia’s hand. “I’ve brought you a fresh cup of lemonade, my dear. So much more refreshing and appropriate than punch. Good heavens, what’s happened to your dress?” Her aunt feigned innocence.

“How dreadful. Let me help.” With a flick of his wrist, Nelson drew out his handkerchief and moved to dab at her breasts.

Amelia grabbed his wrist and squeezed. He yelped. Ignoring the lemonade her aunt still held out to her, Amelia took the handkerchief from his hand and wiped herself as she bit back a snarl of frustration and rage. He really thought he could touch her right here, in front of everyone, as if he had some sort of proprietary right to her body.

Amelia fought to unclench her jaw. “No, thank you. Don’t worry about the dress, my dearest aunt; the color of my dress will hide the punch. How fortunate that I chose to wear it today.”

Aunt Ruth pressed her lips together before remembering their surroundings and smiling brightly. “Yes, indeed.”

“I do adore this color on you,” Nelson said. He held out his hand for the handkerchief.

Amelia handed it back. He held her gaze as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, and then he sniffed it before pocketing it.

Amelia stepped back and bumped into a broad chest. She didn’t turn. She recognized the mountain standing behind her and felt relief, though she wouldn’t show it on her face. She was loath to show such a weakness here among the jackals.

“Good day, Lady Ruth, Lord Clark, Lady Amelia.”

“Mr. Blakewood,” Aunt Ruth nodded. “And where is my nephew?” She peered around the garden. “He has not yet come to greet me.”

Amelia froze. In her panic, she couldn’t remember what story she and Blakewood had agreed upon this morning, and she’d not seen him since she’d arrived to remind herself. They’d decided to arrive separately, he on horseback and she in the carriage, and he’d assured her he’d keep his distance. But now she couldn’t be more appreciative of his keen observation. He’d obviously seen her being cornered by these two and come to assist. She could feel the tension in his body and hoped he remembered their excuse for Sam.

“He’s not here,” Amelia said.

“Whyever not? Who escorted you to the party?” Aunt Ruth demanded.

“Lord Alston had to leave urgently. There was a problem with the residence in Stirling,” Blakewood said, his tone flat.

Amelia gathered herself together and nodded in agreement. She remembered now. “He left first thing this morning.”

“The house in Scotland?” Nelson asked.

“Yes, that is where Stirling is,” Amelia gritted.

“What could be wrong?” her aunt asked.

“A sheep plague,” Amelia answered without thinking.

Blakewood cleared his throat. “There is apparently an issue with one of the wells. Some of the sheep have taken ill. I’m sure he’ll handle it quickly and return immediately.”

Her aunt scoffed. “Off to Scotland? He’ll miss most of the season. And what of you? You can’t stay in that house alone.”

Amelia frowned. “Why not?”

“It isn’t done.” Aunt Ruth scolded. “You need a chaperone.”

“I’m twenty-two, not a child. I could live on my own, if I wished.”

“Mother, we can come and—”

“You absolutely will not,” Amelia said, glowering at him. The idea of him under the same roof, stalking the halls at night, shook her. “If you step foot on my doorstep without invitation I’ll have you tossed on your arse by Mr. Keen.”

“Amelia,” her aunt said in a hushed voice and stepping closer. “Where are your manners? It is unacceptable for you to reside alone. Think of what people will say and the damage that your reputation will sustain. And you will need an escort for social events. If you had a husband you wouldn’t be so ill tempered and have these preposterous ideas about independence. It only makes sense that Nelson and I—”

“Lord Alston asked me to escort Amelia in his absence,” Mr. Blakewood interjected.

Aunt Ruth and Nelson turned in unison to face him.

Amelia smiled nervously as she glanced around. Other guests had noted their tense conversation and her heart started to pound. This plan had seemed so simple this morning during breakfast at Sam’s side. Now it was close to unravelling. What if they insisted? Amelia swallowed, her mouth dry.

“Why you?” Nelson asked.

“That isn’t at all appropriate,” Aunt Ruth whispered to Amelia. “Just because you are of age and declared yourself a spinster with no wish to marry does not mean you are above speculation, dear niece. You are still an unwed lady of the peerage, with no husband to protect you.”

“Correct, Mother. And if Lord Alston is away, then naturally that duty falls to me,” Nelson said.

Panic rose in her throat, tangy and thick. Nelson squinted his eyes at Blakewood accusingly. Aunt Ruth had that bullish set to her face that made the hairs on her upper lip stand out like whiskers. Amelia could feel the situation slipping away from her. Aunt Ruth would demand Amelia let them into the house. They would discover Sam. They’d never leave and she’d be stuck with Nelson every day, him dogging her every step. They would drive her mad with their incessant prattling, attempting to convince her to marry Nelson. Or worse, Nelson could take it upon himself to compromise her and force her hand. Her aunt would not let this go, just as she refused to believe Amelia would choose to never marry. But as far as Amelia could see, the only good a husband could ever do for her would be to put an end to all of Aunt Ruth and Nelson’s harassment.

Then an idea struck her. Her thoughts raced. Her stomach hollowed like she was falling. It was mad, worse than mad, it was stupid and reckless. Graham would be furious and likely never forgive her, but it could work. As sweat beaded on her brow Amelia could think of nothing else that would make Aunt Ruth and Nelson give up on her completely.

She tucked a hand around Mr. Blakewood’s elbow. “This wasn’t how we wanted it to be done, but with my brother away, it may as well come out before anyone makes any rash accusations.” Amelia focused on her aunt. “Mr. Blakewood and I are engaged to be married. He will help me manage my ill temper and preposterous ideas of independence from now on. I need nothing from you.”

His arm turned to solid rock under her fingers. He turned slightly to look down at her, his face emotionless, but she could see it in his eyes. The panic. The anger. She smiled up at him and cupped his cheek, her heart pounding so hard it made her nauseous. All conversation around them had stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

Was he even breathing? He only stared down at her, not even blinking.

Please , she begged with her eyes. The passing of time seemed to slow and Amelia considered fainting to get out of this heaping pile of dung she’d just thrown them into.

“What news is this?” Lady Cecily clapped her hands as she inserted herself between Mr. Blakewood and Nelson. “Did I hear this correctly?”

Amelia beamed, her back teeth grinding as she leaned into Mr. Blakewood. “Yes.” In for a penny, in for a pounding headache once they were alone and Graham lectured her until her ears bled. No matter. She’d deserve it this time. All of it.

He straightened and cleared his throat. “Yes, my lady.”

She should be relieved, but this was only a temporary pardon. He was too self-controlled to murder her in public, that was all.

“Where is your brother?” Lady Cecily asked with a smile. “I know he’s been praying for this day. How serendipitous to give his sister away to such a good friend, such a worthy gentleman as you, Mr. Blakewood.”

Praying? Her brother hadn’t cheered her decision to not marry after her first season, but he certainly hadn’t put up any argument.

Amelia licked her lips. “He had to leave this morning to see to the property in Stirling. Something about the well. Isn’t that right, Mr. Blakewood?” She peered up at him and batted her eyes.

“Yes.”

Amelia turned back to her aunt, whose face had gone pale. Nelson’s cheeks had reddened, but he only nodded and turned away, strolling toward the lawn games. Amelia smiled at everyone who issued their congratulations until her cheeks hurt. She hoped she didn’t look as deranged as she felt.

What had she done?