Page 44 of The Earl's Wild Bride
“And Lionel absent?” Caroline grimaced. “Oh, this will not do at all.”
Mrs. Scanlon seemed confused. “His Lordship is already in the drawing room.”
“He is?” Amelia perked up.
“Yes, My Lady,” Mrs. Scanlon replied with a sympathetic smile. “He must have seen your brother come down the driveway, for he came through the front doors not two minutes after.”
But where have you been?Amelia shelved the thought for later, when she could steal a moment alone with her husband. Surely, he would not disappear again straight away. Not unless there were other secret doorways in the manor that she did not know about.
“I fear I have a terrible headache,” Rebecca piped up. “You will forgive me if I do not join you in welcoming your brother.”
Amelia sighed. “I wishIcould have a sudden headache.”
“Then have one,” Rebecca urged, smiling. “You can come and sit with me in the library instead.”
Caroline gestured down at the eggs and toast that remained on her plate. “I shall finish my breakfast and then join you, Amelia. I have heard so much about your brother that I fear I shall take one of those mackerels on the side and slap him with it before anyone can stop me. As such, I must take a short while to gather myself, putting on my ‘polite’ face even if I have half a mind to strangle the wretch.”
“Of course, butdobring the mackerel when you have finally join us,” Amelia said, feigning a playfulness she did not feel. Even without seeing him, Martin had managed to suck all of the joy and merriment out of her.
Caroline flashed a wink. “I shall bring two. One for each cheek.”
A soft but real laugh escaped Amelia’s lips, imagining such a glorious thing, but reality quickly struck again. She rose slowly to her feet, as if she were on her way to an execution, and forced herself to head out of the breakfast room to the drawing room.
At least I have the power to tell him to leave now,she encouraged herself, halting in front of the drawing room door.Be brave, Amelia; he cannot hurt you anymore.
With a breath, she stepped into the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Good morning to you, brother,” Amelia said, her head bowed, immediately returning to the nervous creature that Lionel had witnessed—albeit blurrily—at the Assembly Rooms.
Even so, she looked beautiful. Lionel had missed the sight of her, far more than he cared to admit. Indeed, where his nights used to be plagued by terrors, they had recently been plagued by far pleasanter, yet altogether more worrying, dreams of her.
He dreamed of dancing with her in an empty ballroom; he dreamed of wandering the grounds in the summer sunshine with her at his side, their hands entwined; he dreamed of kissing her in the heavy snowfall of winter, giving her his warmth, before retreating inside to share a cup of mulled wine that he would taste on her lips when he kissed her again; he dreamed of happiness with her, so rich and rare that he had been waking up with an aching heart.
“I heard you were taking your breakfast,” Martin said sourly, flashing a pointed look at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. “What sort of hour is this to take breakfast? I do hope you have not become lazy, sister.”
Lionel bristled, opening his mouth to defend his wife, but she spoke first.
“I had breakfast with the Dowager and my husband’s sister,” she replied quietly. “They favor a late breakfast.”
Martin glanced at Lionel, as if for confirmation.
“She is Lady of this house,” Lionel said coolly. “If she chooses to take her breakfast at three o’clock in the afternoon, that is her prerogative.”
Martin sniffed, pulling a face. “I suppose every household is different.” He paused, a sly smirk on his lips. “Have you had tea already?”
A harsh laugh formed in the back of Lionel’s throat as he stared at the wretched man, knowing exactly what Martin was doing. Evidently, Martin was holding something of a grudge from their first proper encounter at the Thorne townhouse, and thought he was capable of gaining his justice now, by repeating Lionel’s clever words back to him.
“Why would we have tea?” Lionel asked, feigning disapproving astonishment. “It is not yet ten o’clock. That is no time for tea, and certainly not after we have all just had our breakfast.”
Martin’s mouth fell open, but it was not his expression that Lionel was interested in. He discreetly glanced at Amelia, hoping to see some sort of smile upon her face, but she remained silent and withdrawn, taking her seat at the other end of the settee where Lionel sat.
“Would you like some refreshment, brother?” she asked, a moment later, her voice hollow.
“No, thank you,” Martin replied bitterly, clearly annoyed that it was not Lionel who had offered refreshment.
They sat in stilted silence for a while, peppered occasionally by the sound of the birds in the gardens outside and the whistle of the winter wind creeping in through unseen gaps. Martin kept looking at Lionel, as if expecting him to begin a conversation, but Lionel preferred to watch Martin squirm.
