Page 3 of Edge of the Wild

“Amelia,” Katherine snapped.

“Apologies, Mother. I don’t suppose I’m in the proper headspace for company.”

If Katherine wanted her gone, this was the moment to allow her to retreat – which she desperately wanted.

But Katherine, jaw like iron, said, “Be seated.”

Amelia lifted her brows and gestured toward her riding leathers.

“Be seated.”

“Very well.” Amelia sent a look to Thomas, who nodded and ushered the scouting party out of the room, then sat down at her mother’s right.

Across from Reginald, who watched her with catlike curiosity. “When you go ‘scouting,’ as you put it…”

A footman set a glass of wine before her and Amelia reached for it immediately.

“…do you ride pillion, or–”

“I have my own mount.”

His mouth gave a sideways twitch that wasn’t a smile. “Of course. A lovely mare, I should think?”

She set her glass down, half-empty, already feeling the wine’s effects on an empty stomach. “A stallion.”

Had Tessa been here, she would have offered a lovely description of Shadow that managed to compliment Amelia without being so blunt.

John would have said,“Now see here, L’Espoir, my sister could outride any man. That stallion would take your face off if you tried to offer it a carrot.”

Father would have said,“Yes, a stallion,”and sent her one of his warm, approving looks.

But Father was dead.

John was dead.

Tessa was sitting vigil over a Northern prince’s sickbed.

So Reginald said, “Ah,” in a condescending way, and sipped his wine. His food, she noted, sat untouched and cooling.

When a plate of fish and potatoes landed before her, she dug in, hungry from the day’s riding.

“Your mother was just telling me – before your grand entrance – that your sister has gone harking off to the North,” Reginald continued.

Amelia darted a glance toward her mother, whose expression was clearly that of a woman who’d read Tessa’s letter, but who didn’t want its contents shared across the dinner table. Amelia didn’t care much for scandal, but, in this instance, she and her mother were in agreement: Hope Hall didn’t need to know all their business. At least not yet.

“Something about a marriage?” Mr. Whitman prompted.

Amelia swallowed; dabbed her lips. She did possesssomemanners. “Yes, that’s right. Our cousin Oliver–”

“Alfred’s bastard,” Reginald put in, as if anyone at the table didn’t know that.

“Our cousin Oliverescorted her to the kingdom of Aeretoll in the hopes of securing a marriage alliance.”

Mr. Whitman flashed a tight smile. “To secure the strength of the Great Northern Phalanx, you mean.”

“It’s my understanding, Mr. Whitman,” Katherine said, “that all is fair in love and war. Are we not at war? If Tessa’s marriage can secure us an army to protect Drakewell, then I don’t see why we shouldn’t try for one.”

“You do realize,” Reginald drawled, “that the moment the other lords heard you’d sent her away that they all wrote to King Erik in an attempt to offer their own daughters, don’t you?” His low-lidded look was accusatory.

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