Page 31 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

Ian had made a grave mistake. One he couldn’t seem to undo. Collapsing onto the library sofa did not help either. A recent memory of Amie sitting beside him on this very sofa flooded over him. Even then, he’d tried not to notice her soft voice and gentle touch as she’d worried over his injury. He groaned. Every time he closed his eyes, there she was: her penetrating gaze and vanilla scent. He flipped to his other side, tucking a hand under his head, waiting for sleep to overcome him. Amie’s playful smile danced behind his eyelids. Her shriek of laughter replayed in his mind, and the playful way she’d hit him with her pillow. His own lips crept into a smile in the dark.

She was lovely.

Her eyes had competition, for he had recently developed an obsession with her lips. Before he could stop himself, he replayed their kiss from that morning. Not once but easily a dozen times. No amount of tossing and turning could keep her from his mind. When the early hours of dawn began to lighten the room, he discovered that Tiny had come and fallen asleep on his leg.

What a great future he had before him—spending long nights with his dog and his miserable self. He shifted Tiny off his leg, and the dog looked up sleepily at him before nestling back into the blanket. Then Ian rose from the sofa and stretched his tight muscles—penance for his irritating lack of self-control.

Growling under his breath, he swore to himself that today he would be a better man. But no matter how committed he was to keeping Amie at bay and devoting himself to his work, he couldn’t do it while being near her. She was a chink in his armor—a soft spot that grew more magnified with every interaction until it felt more like a heady intoxication instead of a weakness. It meant one thing: he had to leave.

He no longer trusted himself.

What excuse could he give for abandoning Amie and her mother? He had promised to put on an act to convince Mrs. Tyler—though the act was becoming more real by the minute. He rubbed his thumb across the cleft in his chin. What could he do?

He stepped out into the corridor just as his butler came toward him with a silver platter in his hand. Atop it was a letter.

“This was delivered by way of the servants’ entrance,” Mr. Hamburg said.

“Thank you.” Ian picked up the folded note and stared curiously at the unrecognizable seal. “I’ll find you if a response is needed.”

Mr. Hamburg nodded and left him.

Was this what he hoped it was? Ripping into it, he scanned the contents. Sir James wanted to meet right away. He had plans to present to parliament soon and begged for Ian’s immediate response.

Energy coursed through Ian’s veins. This was what he needed to convince Mrs. Tyler of the need for his quick departure. And Amie ... It would put the necessary distance between them and allow him to return to his senses. He would ask her feelings first, but he knew she would understand. She understood far more about him than most who had known him his entire life.

y

Watching through the drawing room window, Amie followed Ian with her eyes until he and his horse disappeared behind the tree line along the road. Their goodbye had been stilted, forced—affectionless. The clouds formed a gray shade over her view, and a heaviness settled inside her. He was gone. Just as planned.

Mama came up behind her and set a hand on her arm. “It is usual for men to have business they must see to. You cannot depend for them to always be about. It wouldn’t be good for a marriage anyway. You would start to irritate each other.” Mama sighed, glancing out the same window. “Though he was rather vague about when he would return.”

Amie forced a smile. “I am used to entertaining myself. He should be gone as long as he likes. I won’t pine for him, I assure you.”

“Good girl,” Mama patted her arm. “It feels like a fresh start here. I rather like it.”

Amie studied her mother. She seemed much refreshed after her night’s rest. Her words, though, were what captured Amie’s attention. They were filled with hope and promise, and they were just what Amie needed herself. She covered Mama’s hand with her own. “We will have a good life here, Mama. We’ll be happy again.”

Mama smiled. “I am already. The day you married Lord Reynolds, my grief shed like an old skin. Living with your uncle and aunt, though, did not encourage me toward any amount of joy. But here I can breathe again.”

“It is not too small for you?”

Mama hated cramped spaces.

“Not at all. This room is a decent size.” Mama moved to the sofa and smoothed her hand over the wood frame. “We ought to redecorate though. Get it up to snuff. A viscountess cannot entertain with these dated fabrics and rugs.”

She had forgotten that Mama had a good eye for decor. Amie should have waited until her arrival to do over her bedchamber. Ian had left plenty of money to see to other rooms too. “Shall it be our first project together?”

Mama grinned—a full ear-to-ear grin. “Let’s ride into town to get a swatch of fabrics.”

Amie couldn’t remember seeing her mother so enthused. She nodded, and they hurried to gather their bonnets and reticules. The distraction was needed. Surely, after suppressing the gnawing ache in her chest for a few days more, it would fade completely.

y

A week passed, and Amie hadn’t heard anything from Ian. She had hoped by now a letter would come. Mama asked every morning over breakfast, and every morning, Amie disappointed her. It rained off and on all week, but no thunder or lightning accompanied it. Every once in a while, an anxious thought would creep into Amie’s mind. What if Ian hadn’t made it to London? What if he’d been thrown from his horse? It was nonsense brought on from the paranoia of her father’s death. Ian was fine.

He simply had no reason to write to her.

In time, he would remember his promise and send her word out of obligation. She could manage until then. Couldn’t she?

Amie decided to bring Mama on her walk to introduce her to the neighbors and tenant farmers. Mama had not wanted to do this sort of thing for ages but seemed to truly enjoy it today. When they returned home, Mama shed her shawl and called for tea, departing into the drawing room to rest. Amie removed her bonnet and unbuttoned her spencer at a slower pace, nagging thoughts of Ian distracting her.

Mrs. Hamburg approached her with hesitation on her face.

Amie set down her spencer on a chair in the vestibule. “What is it, Mrs. Hamburg?”

“I hate to trouble you, but I have a conundrum I would like your advice on.”

Her advice? It felt like an important moment, being trusted and recognized as the lady of the house. “I am happy to help if I can.”

“A missive came for His Lordship. It carries Lord Kellen’s seal. The rider said it was urgent.”

Urgent? Normally, they would have all Ian’s mail forwarded on to him, but she knew why she hesitated now. The servants couldn’t have missed Ian’s declaration to never speak to his father again. Would he want the letter, or would he toss it in the fire before reading it?

“I will take it for now and decide what is to be done,” Amie said.

“Yes, Your Ladyship.” Mrs. Hamburg extended the letter.

Amie took it and studied the seal with the eagle head, waiting until Mrs. Hamburg had left her. If there was something truly urgent, she needed to know to what extent before she made her decision on how to act. With a fortifying breath, she broke the seal with her finger. She unfolded the letter and noticed right away the hand was feminine. It was from Lady Kellen, not her husband. Two sentences in, Amie’s jaw dropped. “Good heavens.”

Lord Kellen had suddenly taken ill, and the doctors thought he did not have long to live. Lady Kellen begged her son to come straightaway. Amie’s hand fell to her side, the paper crinkling against her skirt. They must not know that Ian was in London.

Her mind whirled. Ian needed to be with his father. If his father died before they reconciled, the guilt could weigh on Ian for a lifetime. Lord Kellen had known when Ian had returned to London mere weeks ago. He probably had a connection with one of the servants. Why had he not discovered it this time around?

Unless ... unless Ian wasn’t staying at his townhome. That was the only answer that made any sense. Ian could be staying with Sir James. It would take time to find where he resided. Would Sir James have left a forwarding address with his letter?

Without another thought, she raced to Ian’s office. She yanked the drapes open, and daylight poured into the empty room. She turned to find the desk clear of any papers. It was a small chance he had left the letter anyway, but if he had, she must find it. Pulling the top drawer open, she discovered a stack of financial record books. The second contained some loose papers. She picked up the first one and sucked in her breath. This was it. And at the bottom was Sir James’s address. It was a miracle. A sign ...

Mama burst into the office. “There you are. The tea has arrived, and a maid thought she saw you coming this way.”

Amie set her hand on the desk. “Mama, can you spare me?”

“What?”

“I just received a missive, and Lord Kellen is very ill.”

“Oh, mercy.” Mama waved her hand in front of her face like she might faint. They were too acquainted with death to take such news lightly. “You must go to him.”

“I think I must.”

Ian wouldn’t want her to come, but someone had to force him to see his father. She didn’t know if she was capable, but she would certainly try.

Within the hour, all was prepared. Amie was going to London. Mama miraculously agreed to stay behind, understanding that death was a private family affair, and promised to send her ideas for the drawing room before any changes were made.

Amie couldn’t care less about decorating now. It seemed so trite when Ian’s father was suffering.

Mama walked her out to the carriage. The footman held the door open for Amie, and she turned and embraced Mama in parting. “Will you look in on Tiny? He is quite attached to Ian, so he will need attention.”

“I will see that he has daily exercise.” Mama pulled back. “Where will you sleep tonight? Have you instructed the driver properly?”

Amie nodded. “We will change horses at the inn we stayed at previously, but we will ride through the night. Time is of the essence.”

Mama’s lips pulled tight. Neither one of them preferred to travel at night after what had happened to Papa. “Travel safe, dear.”

“Don’t worry for me. All will be well.” As she stepped toward the carriage to join Edna, who was already ensconced inside, she felt a few drops of rain graze her cheek. She cast her eyes upward to the thick, ominous, gray clouds.

Her courage wavered.

“Not now,” she whispered.