Page 104 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Boden nodded and left the room.
“Would you like me to come with you?” Kate asked.
Amelia shook her head. “Finish your breakfast. I’ll be fine meeting with them on my own.”
“Are you sure?”
Amelia smiled at her. For all their differences, Kate had a big heart. “I am.”
She wiped her mouth and hands, rose, and walked slowly toward the foyer. Anxiety roiled inside her, making her grateful she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites before Boden had interrupted. The last thing she needed was to have a full meal sitting like a lead weight at the bottom of her stomach during what could be a difficult conversation.
She rounded the staircase, and her parents came into view near the main entrance. Her father wore a stylish waistcoat that she doubted he’d chosen for himself, and hermother was dressed head to toe in lavender, as if she were in half mourning.
“What on earth?” she muttered to herself.
“Amelia!” Mrs. Hart flew toward her, and as she drew near, Amelia noticed that her eyes were red and puffy. “How could you allow this to happen?”
She frowned. “Allow what to happen?”
A sob tore from Mrs. Hart, and she covered her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Why don’t we speak somewhere more private?” Mr. Hart suggested, nodding toward the drawing room.
“Please, come through.”
Amelia led the way and perched on one of the chairs, leaving the chaise for her parents. Her father helped her mother sit, then lowered himself down beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“What’s going on?” Amelia asked, looking from her mother to her father and back again.
“I trusted you to make sure this didn’t happen,” Mrs. Hart whispered. “How could you?”
Amelia met her father’s eyes, a silent question in them. “What have I done?”
Was this about her novel? Had they discovered she was about to be published?
She’d known her mother wouldn’t be pleased, but this reaction seemed out of proportion to the situation.
“Word has spread that the earl married you for your dowry,” Mr. Hart said calmly.
Mrs. Hart lifted her head, her beautiful face twisted in despair. “They’re saying we bought a title. That we are sullying the earl’s aristocratic lineage.”
Amelia’s gut tightened, but while she might wish that no one knew the truth of the situation, her mother could hardly be surprised by these claims—not when she’d insisted on such a large dowry specifically for this purpose. Perhaps,after weeks of blissful social acceptance, the gossip was hitting harder than it might otherwise have done so.
“It’s not untrue,” she pointed out. “Surely you knew there was a possibility this would happen.”
A maid bustled into the room with a tea tray. She set it on the table and scurried out again. Amelia stood and poured tea, leaving it black and unsweetened for each of her parents and adding sugar to her own. She passed the first cup to her mother but didn’t bother to offer her a scone, knowing she wouldn’t accept.
Mrs. Hart took the cup and automatically raised it to her lips. Amelia passed the second cup to her father, along with a scone, and took the third cup and another scone for herself. She sat back down and munched on the scone, grateful to have something more to eat. Despite her unsettled gut, she was a little hungry, having not finished breakfast.
Her mother turned a bleak gaze on Amelia. “You haven’t heard the worst part.”
Suddenly, the crumbs felt like ash in her mouth. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like this.
“Tell me,” she urged.
Mrs. Hart drew in a deep breath. “I was at the Benton ball last night, and I was able to trace the rumor back to its starting point.”
Amelia forced herself to swallow. “Which was?”
