Page 118 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Damn.
He hesitated, torn between whether to go to Amelia orintercept Florence. He glanced from one woman to the other.
Amelia wasn’t alone. She had support.
Would he like to go to her right now? Yes. But perhaps the best thing to do would be to get rid of the person causing her distress.
So thinking, he cut a line through the assembled guests toward Florence. Her eyes met his, and she smirked.
“All of this fuss for me?” she asked.
“You weren’t invited,” he told her coldly. “Why are you here?”
She laughed. “Why would I miss all the fun?”
“You think this is fun?” he demanded, heat simmering in his gut. “Distressing innocent women is fun for you?”
She rolled her eyes. “There is no need for your righteous indignation. I gave you a choice. You chose. Your wife should have known to expect this when she married you. If she didn’t, that’s her lookout.”
Noticing that they were drawing attention, Andrew took her by the arm.
“Come with me. Let’s talk in private.”
“I am always happy to be in private with you,” she cooed, pursing her lips suggestively.
“Keep your hands to yourself.” He tugged her back out of the ballroom and down the corridor to his office.
She giggled. “So eager to get me all alone.”
“What made you think you would be welcome here?” he asked, releasing her as though she’d burned him.
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve always been welcome around you before.”
He crossed his arms. “That time has passed. You’re making a spectacle of yourself—and of me.”
“The attention doesn’t bother me,” she said, nothing but truth in her tone.
“I know.” Attention never had bothered her. Whetherpositive or negative, she thrived on it. “And if it were only us affected, that would be one thing. But it’s not. You’ve carried through on your threat. It’s over. I won’t accept you doing anything else to upset my wife.”
She sighed. “You’re no fun these days. So serious all the time. So concerned about that mousey wife of yours. Why don’t you just forget her for a little while and dance with me?”
“If you think I’m dancing with you, you’re crazy.”
Footsteps sounded outside, and they both turned toward the office doorway. Amelia appeared in the frame with Ashford at her back.
Andrew’s chest squeezed. This was the first time Amelia had come face-to-face with Florence since finding out who she was to him. He instinctively reached for her, wanting to shield her from any pain or discomfort the situation might cause her, but she was too far away.
“I was sending her away,” he said. “There’s nothing happening here that you need to worry about.”
But Amelia didn’t seem insecure or cowed as he might have expected. Instead, she squared her shoulders and glared at Florence.
“You did not receive an invitation to this ball,” she told his former mistress. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Florence raised her chin and stared Amelia down. “It’s for Andrew to say whether I have to leave, not you.”
He rolled his eyes. As they all knew, he’d been in the process of doing that exact thing when Amelia and Ashford had appeared.
Still, Amelia didn’t shrink or waver. She looked down her nose at Florence. “Actually, it’s not solely for Andrew to say. This is my home too. Considering the rumors you’ve spread, you’re not welcome at any Longley property, including this one. Neither of us want to see your face again.”
