Page 34 of The Earl's Wild Bride
She snapped her fingers at her assistants, who hurried forward with long pins and other sewing paraphernalia. Without verbal instruction, they set to work, making adjustments to the gown, which would be properly sewn and amended later.
“I quite agree,” Rebecca said from a chair by the window, a small smile upon her lips. “It is a beautiful gown, Amelia. You will certainly be remembered.”
Amelia blushed. “It is not my usual color.”
“It becomes you well,” Rebecca assured.
Just then, a knock came at the music room door, for Rebecca had insisted it was the only room large enough for Betsy and her entourage, and the endless trunks of garments they had brought with them.
“Who is it?” Rebecca called.
“It is me,” Lionel’s voice replied.
With a shriek, as if it were Amelia’s wedding day and not merely preparation for a ball, Rebecca gestured for the modiste to cover Amelia’s gown. The assistants hurried to do so, grabbing a large white sheet and wrapping the new Countess in it.
“You may enter!” Rebecca said.
The door opened and Lionel peeked in, his hesitancy rather endearing. “I just came to… give something to my wife.” He entered with greater authority, his eyebrow arching as he took in his Countess, swaddled in a dust sheet. “Forgive me, for I have no concept of fashion, but I do not think that will be appropriate for a ball.”
Uncertain of whether or not he was joking, Amelia just smiled.
Meanwhile, Rebecca burst into laughter. “Can you imagine, Brother? It would certainly set tongues wagging if she were to choose the Roman style of a toga. Now, with respect, you are interrupting very important work.”
Lionel hesitated. “Be that as it may, I would like a moment alone with my wife.”
The modiste and her assistants vacated the music room without delay, while Rebecca lingered, apparently refusing to move from her chair. Amelia did not know whether to be grateful for that or whether she should insist that it was quite all right; she was not perturbed by the idea of being alone with her husband.
Might he embrace me again?She pushed away the silly thought. Of course, he would not. Not unless she slipped and risked breaking her neck.
“Sister,” Lionel said in a warning tone.
Rebecca groaned and got to her feet. “Very well, but donot—and I repeat, donot—even think about taking a peek at her gown. You will see it at the winter ball, and not a moment before.” She jabbed a finger in her brother’s direction. “I mean it. I shall be furious if I find out you have seen it already, and I shall know from your reaction if you have.”
“Out. Now!” Lionel replied with a half smile.
With a playful glare, Rebecca departed the music room, leaving Lionel and Amelia alone again for the first time since the bridge. He had retreated to his study again after that, but Amelia had not minded as much, now that she had the company of Caroline and Rebecca to entertain her. And, in truth, they were excellent company—amusing and chatty and affable, never leaving her out of the conversation.
“I shall not trespass on your time for long,” Lionel said flatly, approaching her. “Turn to face the mirror.”
Suddenly anxious, a warmth creeping up her neck, she did as he asked.
His eyes did not meet hers through the reflection, though she observed his expression closely. He seemed… pensive, almost sad, as he produced something from his tailcoat pocket and brought it over the top of her head.
Amelia’s eyes widened as he lay the necklace gently against her chest and fastened it at the nape of her neck, his fingertips lightly brushing her skin. A tingle tickled down her spine, the creepingwarmth of her throat making its way up into her face, where she saw her cheeks flush a patchy pink.
“I… cannot accept this,” she gasped, astounded by the glittering jewel that rested below the notch at the base of her throat. It was as large as a robin’s egg—an exquisite gem that almost matched the color of her eyes. “It is too valuable. Far too expensive for the likes of me.”
He finally met her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “Nonsense. The price is nothing. You are the wife of one of the wealthiest men in England; you should only wear the best, and be seen wearing the best. And I want you to begin thinking that way, buying what you please, discovering your taste, as I believe you have not had that opportunity before.”
“I have not,” Amelia agreed shyly, “but I do not know that I could ever feel comfortable spending your money.”
He sighed. “You must learn from my sister and my grandmother. You must learn how to be your own woman. There are no heirs to this estate and title, Amelia, so if anything were to happen to me, there are instructions in place for you. That is why you must learn how to be a Countess.”
“Lionel!” she gasped, horrified. “That is… awfully morbid. Nothing is going to happen to you. Do not say such things.”
Her heart felt sore, unease slithering among the butterflies in her stomach. Lionel was a young, healthy gentleman; it wasobvious in his vitality and his physique. Why would he have any reason to worry about his longevity?
“Nevertheless, it is prudent to prepare for all possibilities,” he said, his gaze flitting to the jewel at her throat. “It was my mother’s. It is yours now.”
