Page 117 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Amelia’s eyes stung. She felt as if she’d been slapped. Her mother was blaming this on her. Blatantly telling her she wasn’t good enough.
For years, she’d accepted this treatment. But she didn’t have to now.
“I don’t think this is a conversation that needs to be had at all,” she said, looking around to see where Andrew had gotten to. Why wasn’t he here with her?
She met her father’s eyes, hating the knowledge that he could tell she was hurting but still allowed her mother to speak to her in such a way. After all, he hadn’t said Mrs. Hartshouldn’t say those things to Amelia, simply that the conversation ought to occur elsewhere.
Disappointed, she turned her back and stalked away.
She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed space. Deciding to get a drink and some fresh air, she made a beeline for the refreshments table. But before she reached it, she walked straight into Miss Wentham.
“Hello, Countess.” Miss Wentham smirked. “It seems your first ball is a raging success. Although it’s possible that has as much to do with the excellent gossip as it does your abilities as a hostess.”
“What do you want?” Amelia asked. “I have no patience for games tonight.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t be so blunt with one of their guests, but Miss Wentham had never treated her with anything other than disdain, and she was tired of trying to be the better person.
Miss Wentham’s smile grew. “I did warn you this would happen. I told you that the earl only wanted your money.”
Amelia scowled. “Did it ever occur to you that I already knew that? I’m not quite as foolish as some people would like to believe.”
Miss Wentham’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, as if about to speak, but before she could, Amelia walked away.
All she wanted right now was to be alone. She had always known she didn’t belong among the ton, but if she had ever deluded herself into thinking otherwise, this evening had provided all the proof she needed.
She wasn’t one of them.
She didn’t even think she wanted to be one of them.
As she hurried toward the balcony, her breath came in shallow gasps. Her throat was tight with emotion, and tears stung her eyes. She kept her head down and pushed past the guests.
Just as she reached the door, a murmur rippled through the crowd. Confused, she turned. The Duke of Ashford stood in front of her, blocking her view.
“Ignore them,” he said. “They’re all vultures. They mean nothing.”
The murmur grew louder. Amelia tried to look around him.
“What the devil is she doing here?” The voice was Lady Drake’s.
Amelia stretched onto her toes and peered toward the entrance, but immediately wished she hadn’t. Heat rose up the back of her neck, and her blood rushed in her ears.
There, standing in the doorway, was Miss Giles.
CHAPTER 28
Andrew stared at Florence,unable to believe her audacity. She sashayed into the room, her head held high. If he didn’t hate her so much in this moment, he might admire her gumption, but as it was, she could only be here for one reason.
To hurt him and humiliate Amelia.
Amelia.
He looked around for his wife, growing panicked when he didn’t immediately find her. Her mother had snatched her away earlier, but he’d seen Mrs. Hart since then, so he knew they weren’t still together.
She hadn’t left, had she?
He gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t have let Mrs. Hart speak to her in private. He should have known better. But at least if she wasn’t here, she wouldn’t have to witness this in person.
Unfortunately, it was at that moment he spotted her, standing near the balcony doors with Ashford and his mother.
