Page 4 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)
I f there was anything worse than being engaged to a dead man, it was living in the same house with Robert Nelson. He sat across from Amie at breakfast, his blond hair fluffed several inches above his already high forehead and his beady eyes watching her eat her piece of toast, as though she were fattening herself up to be his next meal.
Uncle and Aunt had engaged Mama in a talk about wedding plans. How easily she lied about the details. Mama seemed quite content living in her dream world. But this wasn’t the real Mama. This was what she had become after years of grief.
Amie glanced at Robert again, and his weaselly smile appeared. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked just loud enough for him to hear.
“Your engagement has caused me to lose my appetite.”
His dramatics might work on his parents, but they would not work on her. Still, she couldn’t be angry with him. He didn’t know any better. He was used to having everything he wanted. Soon he would put this childishness behind him. Barely withholding her exasperation, she said, “Go on, try your breakfast. You need your nourishment.”
“I haven’t the will, but I am helpless when you command me.” He picked up his spoon and took a bite, all without taking his eyes off her.
Now that he was occupied in eating something, it was the perfect time to excuse herself. Mama and Aunt Nelson finished at the same time and stood as well. Aunt went straight to the drawing room to do her morning sewing like clockwork, and Mama took to the music room. The strains of the pianoforte soon filled the house. Music was Mama’s greatest solace in the world, and her playing generally put Aunt straight to sleep.
Amie went to the corner of the drawing room and waited. Soon enough, Aunt had her head tipped back, and a soft snore purred through her nose. Amazing, since she had been awake for a mere hour or two yet, but Amie would not complain. She was eager to escape the house. Despite having already taken her walk to the graveyard, she needed to be free from Robert’s presence.
She turned to find Uncle striding toward her from the breakfast room.
“Do you know, Amie,” Uncle said, stopping before her. “I am still put out that your betrothed did not seek my permission before secretly engaging himself to you.”
She forced a smile. “It wouldn’t have been a secret if he had sought your approval.” It was wrong to play along, but she wasn’t left with much alternative. She needed time to find another living arrangement before the truth came out.
“Exactly my point. And does he mean to?”
“I shall ask him when I next see him.” Which would be never since he was long from this earth.
“And when shall that be?” Uncle had asked Mama this question a dozen times.
“I haven’t the faintest notion. Men do as they please.” She had done her best not to lie directly and tried to strictly omit the truth. There was nothing like stalling before the inevitable happened.
“I do not like it. Not one bit,” he said. “Robert would have you as his wife, and he is quite determined.”
The blood seeped from her face. She had seen this coming, but it still rattled her. She had been in denial thinking Robert would let it go. “But I—”
“I know, I know, you are spoken for. But these things can change. A woman has been known to alter her course before.”
Her fingers shook, and she clasped them tightly in front of her. “My reputation, sir.”
“Robert is a good man. You will have our family’s protection.”
“Forgive me, but I cannot.” She spoke firmly, hoping to avoid any further pressing.
Uncle Nelson nodded and mumbled something about telling Aunt that he and Robert would be at his pub. By the time he left, not just her hands but her entire body, too, was shaking. She was not used to speaking back to her elders, but the idea of marrying Robert scared her more than all Mama’s lies put together.
Amie waited by the drawing room window until she could see the men leave, then she slipped quietly past her sleeping Aunt and moved toward the front of the house. Amie took an apron off a hook by the servants’ entrance and, with trembling fingers, tied it to her waist before pushing outside into the front garden. But she could not even look at the flowers to tend to them. When the fresh air did not bring a solution to mind, her breathing came faster, and she wrung her hands together. What was she to do?
“Oh, Miss Tyler!” Mrs. Jensen called, waving from her carriage.
Amie swallowed her problems long enough to greet her neighbor. “Mrs. Jensen, good day. How is your cold?”
“Better, thanks to your poultice recipe. I wanted to wish you congratulations on your upcoming nuptials!”
Amie brought her arm up to wave back, her smile weakening. Within an hour of Mama’s announcement, the Peterson sisters had spread the news of the engagement throughout the entire town. It had been a single week, and if she were anyone important at all, all of England would have known by now. Being a nobody never had a more useful purpose.
But even a nobody had to take care of herself. With Mrs. Jensen out of sight, Amie started pacing in front of the flowerbeds. She needed a house and distance from her cousin. And fast! Her hands went to her hair, no longer safe since she had neglected her bonnet. “What to do? What to do?” she said to herself as frustration curled out from her fingertips and she pulled at her hair.
A giant of a horse rode up, a handsome stranger sitting regally atop it. He pulled the black beast to a quick stop in front of the walk, the horse rearing up just enough to make her reflexively step back, although she was a safe distance from the road.
His eyes set on her, and his mouth turned down into a frown.
Wait, this was no stranger. She had seen him before. It was none other than the drunk from the graveyard. The last time she had seen him, he hadn’t been too happy with her. She ducked her head before he could get a good look at her and pretended to fuss with the roses. She had been invisible to Society her entire life. Was it wrong to suddenly wish for five more minutes of the same bad luck?