Page 9 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)
AMELIA
A melia had a later start to the morning than usual. Even with their late arrival home the night before, she found herself unable to sleep, replaying her evening with the Duke of Birmingham. The conversation, the dances, the smiles, the small touches and stolen glances, and most especially, that kiss.
The first kiss of her life, and it was absolutely perfect. Better than she could have ever imagined. And she was eager. Eager for another. Eager for what came next. Eager for the future. Because now she found herself believing as Thomas and Lydia did. The Duke of Birmingham really did want to be with her, regardless of their stations in life.
She made her way down to the dining room for breakfast. The sun shined brightly through the room’s sheer curtained windows, lighting up the pale walls, and she found Thomas and Lydia already eating and whispering. She could guess about what, and she would rather they engaged in other kinds of whispering together. Although, she was happy with their progress from the previous night and how often the two had danced together.
Amelia made her way to the dish laden side table and began filling a plate as Thomas teased her, “Ah, look who’s finally chosen to join us.”
“Oh, stop it, Thomas,” Lydia chided before turning her attention to her sister. “So,” she asked, “how was your night with His Grace, then?”
They had all been tired and quiet during the carriage ride back to Coventry House, lost to their own thoughts. This morning, however, Thomas and Lydia seemed impatient to hear about Amelia’s night with the duke.
Amelia took her seat on Thomas’s free side, across from Lydia, and bit back her smile. “I think it went well,” was all she offered.
“Well?” Lydia repeated incredulously. “Amelia, he hardly left your side all night. I’d say that went better than ‘well.’” She looked to Thomas for support.
“Indeed,” the teasing glint still in his eyes. “Not to mention how he whisked you away almost as soon as we arrived. Tell us, what did Gideon want to discuss out on the terrace?”
Lydia groaned, but Amelia met his eye. “What do you think , Thomas?”
“I imagine it wasn’t your opinion on the rather lovely hydrangeas neither of you could see in the dark.”
“You imagine right. And how was your night?” she asked with a glance between her two companions at the table.
“Oh, no, you don’t—,” Thomas started, but Amelia cut him off quickly.
“You two seemed to dance as much, dare I say more, than His Grace and I did.”
Lydia blushed. “Well, of course, it was a ball after all.”
“Hmm,” Amelia let her skepticism hang in the air as she chewed her breakfast, watching Thomas’s sudden solemnity with amusement. He didn’t meet either of their eyes.
After a moment’s pause, Amelia swallowed her bite and added a satisfied, “It seems it was a productive evening for all three of us.” She was rewarded by a blush matching Lydia’s come over Thomas’s fair face.
Thomas met Amelia’s gaze, and she gave him an encouraging smile. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I suspect I’ll hear from Gideon soon enough for my permission to court you. I’d hardly be surprised if he called on you today with how attentive he was last night. And next week we have the Humphry’s Garden Party and Perrington’s Ball.”
“Will His Grace be in attendance at both?” Lydia spared Amelia the question.
“I have no doubt. By then he’ll be officially courting Amelia, as well, I’m sure.”
“You’re quite confident,” Amelia couldn’t help the trickle of doubt in her mind. The duke was clearly pursuing her, and she was beginning to trust Thomas’s sense on this. And yet, she was human and that small voice couldn’t resist echoing in her mind, wondering if it was all just a bit too easy.
“As should you be,” Thomas replied.
“Amelia,” Lydia said in her uniquely soothing manner, “everyone saw the attention His Grace paid you last night. He made no secret of it, nor does he appear the type of man to keep his intentions close to the chest. He wants to be with you as clearly as you want to be with him. He will not wait.”
Amelia nodded and had faith in Lydia, Thomas, and the duke, pushing her self-doubt out of her mind.
Her doubt crept back in over the following days, however, as Lydia and Thomas’s assertions did not come to pass. For three days after the Welsey’s Ball, she received no visit or note from the Duke of Birmingham. As if their night together hadn’t even occurred.
Amelia was sitting by the library window in the afternoon on the third day, distracting herself with embroidering the neckline of one of her new gowns, when Thomas strode in and announced with satisfaction, “Gideon will be joining us for dinner.”
Lydia glanced at him from where she reclined on the couch with a book, then her gaze snapped to Amelia’s. Amelia, on the other hand, had her eyes glued to Thomas with such immense relief on her face, the satisfaction in his expression seemed to waver.
“He is?” It was Lydia who spoke, sitting up with a smile spreading on her lovely face. “He’s reached out,” she exclaimed to Amelia.
“Well, not quite,” Thomas admitted with hesitation.
Amelia, who was torn between shocked excitement and relief, lowered her stitching to rest on her lap. “What do you mean, Thomas?” she asked calmly.
“Well, since I hadn’t heard from him, I thought I’d help him on. I invited him to dinner, and he accepted,” his embarrassment prevented him from meeting her eye, unwilling to watch the happy surprise leave her face as she realized Gideon wasn’t, in fact, calling on her, but rather Thomas was playing matchmaker.
“Ah,” was all Amelia said. She had started to consider many alternatives the past few days. Perhaps the Duke of Birmingham wasn’t as serious as they’d thought him to be; he had changed his mind; he had realized the weakness of her social standing or, dare she consider, her lack of experience from her unpracticed kiss.
She felt her companion’s eyes on her as she looked outside the window and absorbed the implications of Thomas’s words. Their excitement dwindled as they watched the heaviness of Amelia’s thoughts weigh down upon her.
Taking a deep breath through her embarrassment, doubt, and simmering anger, she stood and gathered the gown she was working on. “I’d best get ready then,” she said steadily and left the room.
If he was coming, she would keep her head high and her doubts hidden. There was nothing else for it.