Page 33 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

Amie hadn’t expected Ian to rejoice at seeing her again, but his abrupt greeting played over and over in her mind. She had no right to long for him, though she kept fooling herself that she did. Even now, in the carriage, sitting across from him and beside Edna, she could not help but wish to be beside him. His arms rested on his thighs, with his head bent forward, keeping her from reading his mood.

How selfish she was. His father was dying, and she wanted him to comfort her. If she couldn’t be near him, she wanted to at least hear his voice. Heaven knew, they both needed the distraction. “Did you make any progress with Sir James?”

Ian lifted his head and looked at her, his face blank and emotionless. “Time will tell.”

The answer seemed to apply to her unspoken questions too—about her and about his father. Time was a relentless soldier, always marching steadily on. Sometimes it gave generously, and sometimes it proved to be the enemy. She wondered what sword it would wield today—for better or worse—and whose side it would be on. Would Lord Kellen die? Would she live out the lonely, independent life she had so long sought for? Would Ian ever let himself return to her?

His voice startled her from her thoughts. “Are you feeling any better?”

Even with the tension and unanswered questions hovering between them, she still felt easier in his company than not. “I think so.” They had been in the carriage for a half hour, and sleep had evaded her. Though Edna had not suffered from the same problem. A soft snore sang from the seat beside her.

Ian leaned back and studied Amie, making her shift with self-consciousness. “I wish we would have waited for tea. You could have used some.”

Did she look so poorly? She hadn’t wanted to waste a moment, but an entire night in a carriage must’ve left her appearance wanting. Perhaps his reaction to her would have been different if she had arrived looking as pretty as Miss Foster.

There she went, thinking selfish thoughts again. “Please don’t worry about me,” she said. “Not when it is your father who deserves your attention.”

Ian shook his head. “My father gave me his attention when it was to benefit himself, so I spare him the same decency I would any other person on this earth.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that Amie could only frown in response.

“Judge me as you may,” he said. “I can imagine you think me quite spoiled and ungrateful.”

“I think you do not know what it is like to lose a father.” The words spilled out before she could hold them back. “I hope you never have to learn what I have.”

Ian’s face softened. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “I’m worried for you. I know you don’t want me to be, but considering my own experiences, you must know I cannot help it.”

Ian’s mouth pursed, and he nodded.

A moment later, the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the same townhome they had dined at a month previously. Ian helped her down, and he took her arm, leading her inside.

A strange silence filled the house. She noticed it the moment they entered through the front door.

The butler attended to them, whispering back and forth with Ian. Amie braced herself as she watched them. Was he telling Ian that his father had died? Ian’s eyes went to the staircase, following it to the top, where she assumed his parents’ bedchamber was located.

Ian turned to her, his voice low. “My father is resting, and my mother is with him. You were right to hurry me here.”

She couldn’t release her breath in relief that he was alive because the news still sounded dire. “I can wait in the drawing room. Take as long as you need.”

He hesitated, his eyes trailing back to the stairs. She had never seen Ian nervous before, but she swore she saw a glimpse of it now. He, no doubt, had many conflicting feelings warring inside him. How she wished she could tell him to forget any hatred he bore. It wasn’t worth carrying. Not now.

“Mr. Derrik,” Ian said to the butler behind him. “See that a meal is prepared for Lady Reynolds, and prepare a guest room in case she cares to rest.”

Again, he was worrying about her when he shouldn’t be. The butler nodded and stepped away to do Ian’s bidding.

Ian led her to the drawing room door. “I’m not certain how long I’ll be.”

She frowned at him to show her disapproval of his misplaced concern. “Stop fussing. I’m in no hurry.”

He nodded, his eyes solemn, but there was no mistaking the silent thank-you. He pulled away from her, his shoulders weighed down by an invisible burden as his long legs strode to the stairs. She watched him for a moment before slipping into the dining room.

She was supposed to be his wife in name only, but the way her heart ached for him and his family made her feel like far more than a mere partner in some convenient arrangement. But she had to remember that not everyone believed she belonged here. If his family had accepted her, she might have accompanied Ian to see his father. Even so, she regretted staying behind, afraid Ian was about to upset a dying man.