Page 19 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

Amie had spent so long living with other people that she’d thought she would like living alone. The first day was tolerable, but by the second morning, the emptiness of the house began to press in upon her. Even Tiny was feeling Ian’s absence. She’d had to banish the dog to the kitchen to keep him from whining at the door for hours on end.

He needed to learn that there was no use wallowing in what could not be changed. She’d learned that precise lesson plenty of times in her own life—and it seemed she was about to learn it again. Staying busy was the best cure she could think of, so she threw herself into preparing Mama’s room, determined to turn the house into her own.

She called a footman and maid up to help her, assigning the footman to move the furniture away from the walls while she covered each of the pieces with Holland covers. She instructed the maid to take down the sun-stained curtains with the tear.

“And what would you have me do with them when we’re finished, my lady?” Gwen was a stout maid with ruddy cheeks. She didn’t say much, but she had proved herself to be a hard worker.

“Excellent question, Gwen. The fabric is poor enough that it’s only fit for the fire. The bedding is salvageable. I think I know a family who could use it.”

“Yes, my lady,” the maid replied. She pulled over a chair to the window to start taking down the drapes.

Amie finished putting a cover over the dressing table when a scream sounded from behind her followed by a loud thud. Whirling around, Amie found Gwen on the floor with her leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Amie rushed to Gwen’s side as another servant who had come running at the scream left again to call for the doctor. As the servant rushed for help, Amie and the footman worked together to set Gwen up in the last spare bedroom on the upstairs floor.

“It’s a bad break,” the doctor informed them once he’d arrived and had a chance to exam her. He closed his satchel. “I wouldn’t recommend any servants carrying her down the stairs for at least a week as the bones sets. And no weight on the leg for another five after that.”

Gwen whimpered behind them. The poor thing was miserable.

It was late afternoon when Amie finally had a moment to sit down and catch her breath. The small library had quickly become a solace to her, and her feet moved toward the serenity she would find there. She’d not made it past the staircase when the front door flew open.

Her next breath did not come. Or the next. “Ian?” The name came out in a suffocated squeak.

His face was lined with fatigue, but his eyes were bright and alert. He shut the door behind him and strode toward her. Her heart raced the nearer he came. Stopping abruptly in front of her, he said in the velvety timbre she had missed, “Amie, we must speak.”

She nodded, unable to find her voice. He set his hand on her back and directed her toward the library. Ironic that they had both thought of the same place. But what did he possibly want to say? Had ... had he missed her? Is that why he had returned so quickly? There was such a determined look about him that it sent a thrill through her middle.

Could he ... could he care about her?

After shutting them inside the library, Ian put a hand on each of her arms, completely breaking the rules. If her heart had raced before, it was erratic now. “What is it, Ian?”

“I had to come back. To see you.”

She bit her lip. Was this love? She’d wondered her whole life about it, and now she was experiencing it. “You did?”

He gave a long nod. “Before my parents arrived.”

She smiled, unable to help herself. And then she blinked. His parents? Her mouth drooped as quickly as it had risen. No, he was not in love with her. “Y-your parents are coming here?”

“Yes,” he said, as if that one word could convey the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t know how far they are behind me. They had a decent head start. I only beat them because I was not in a carriage but on horseback. There is much to speak of before they come. My father hinted that he did not think of us as a love match. If he does not believe we are married in every sense of the word, I believe he will try to have the wedding annulled.”

A panicky feeling landed in her chest. “I don’t understand. Is he coming here for that very reason?”

“I don’t see another reason for him to come. He is not a man to pay a social call without good reason. If it doesn’t benefit him or Parliament, he won’t do it.”

Apprehension started to spread from her chest to her stomach. She had thought Lord Kellen tolerated her, but she should have known better. People did not soften overnight. Certainly not for small things such as walking a person down the aisle at a wedding. What he’d said to her that day came to her mind—his comment about how Ian must care more for her than furthering his career. Regardless of Ian’s lack of feelings for her, his father saw Ian’s decision to marry her as wrong. He had been unable to prevent the wedding, but perhaps he would try to prevent their marriage from lasting. And now she was to play hostess to him.

“I should tell the cook that we are to expect more for dinner tonight.” She chewed on her lip, wondering if there was anything else she could organize. She thought of Mama, wondering what she would do. They might not have had a home of their own, but Mama had subjected Amie to lessons on the ways to run a household. Without a dowry, it had seemed impractical at the time—silly even—but now Amie was extremely grateful.

Ian released her. “I did not think of dinner. An excellent idea. And we can have a maid air out the bedrooms upstairs and make certain clean linens are placed inside.”

Amie felt a little faint. “Upstairs?”

He nodded. “We should prepare both bedrooms. My parents often sleep separately.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” she breathed.

Ian’s frown deepened. “Fiddlesticks? It is not uncommon for a husband and wife to prefer separate bedrooms.”

“No, that is not it. It’s another matter entirely. A big matter, actually. There aren’t any bedrooms available for them.”

“What do you mean?”

He wasn’t going to like this. “I mean that Gwen broke her leg and is confined to the bedchamber on the end.”

“Gwen? Who is Gwen?”

“One of our maids.”

“And she is in one of the bedrooms? Upstairs?”

Amie winced. “Yes.”

Ian sighed. “I suppose they must share the other spare room, then.”

Amie shook her head. “I thought to prepare it for my mother. I had the bedding donated and the drapes burned.”

Ian’s mouth fell open. “Good grief.”

Amie was reluctant to continue, but she had to explain. “We spent all morning pushing the furniture to the middle of the room and covering it so we might paint.”

Ian pinched his nose with his hand. “Stop, please stop.”

She held her tongue, though her mind raced for a solution. Surely they could find more bedding, though it would take time to put the furniture back. They couldn’t order new drapes fast enough, but maybe they could tack blankets to the wall? What was she thinking? When had tacked blankets been acceptable for an earl and a countess?

“They’ll have to have my room,” Ian finally said, dropping his hand with a long, weary sigh.

Amie frowned. It didn’t seem fair that he should give up his room when she had created the bedchamber dilemma to begin with. “But where will you sleep?”

His brow rose, and he gave her a pointed stare.

She scrunched her nose. “In the library?”

He shook his head.

She thought again. “The sitting room?”

He shook his head again.

There was no room in his small office. Not for a man as tall as him. Then it dawned on her. “Wait.” Her eyes widened. “With ... me?”

Ian gave her a concise nod, his face grim.

Her mouth formed the shape of an O .

Ian stepped back from her and took a seat on the sofa, facing the fireplace. “I never imagined I would put you in this situation, but you did agree to help my father believe our marriage is legitimate. I would not ask if I knew a better alternative.”

She forced her gaping mouth to close. She couldn’t just stare dumbly at him all night. He deserved an answer. “I suppose it is a fair solution. It’s not like we haven’t spent the night together in the same room before.” Heat filled her cheeks as she added, “You can depend upon my help.”

“Thank you,” Ian said. “I shall speak to the housekeeper about the arrangements, if you can inform the cook.”

She nodded, clasping her hands together like the brave little viscountess she wasn’t. Ian pushed away from the sofa and made to leave, but she wasn’t ready for him to abandon her. Not yet. Before he could grasp the door handle she blurted, “Were you able to finish your business in London?”

He looked at her over his shoulder, his frown deepening. “No, but I am more anxious than ever to see it through.” He did not expound, but she could see that whatever it was that he was working on weighed heavily on him. She filled in his unsaid words: When his parents left, he would leave again too.

Once he vacated the room, her shoulders slumped. She rubbed her forehead with one hand and hugged her waist with the other. Why had she immediately assumed he had returned to confess his love to her? She was an idiot. She would play the part of a dutiful wife, but she would not grow any more attached. There was no reason to miss someone who did not miss her in return.