Page 33 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“Wonderful,” she murmured.
He dipped his head. “I couldn’t have said it better.” He linked his arm with hers. “Shall we take a stroll around the room?”
“That would be nice.”
Arm in arm, they circled around the party. Several people greeted Longley with a smile and friendly words. Very few acknowledged Amelia, although plenty cast surreptitious looks at her.
He then returned her to her mother, thanked her prettily, and left.
“Well?” Mrs. Hart asked when he was gone.
“I think it went well.” She was reluctant to say more than that when Longley always seemed so pleased with life and was therefore difficult to read.
Mrs. Hart sighed. “You danced together beautifully.”
“He’s very graceful for a gentleman.” Perhaps more graceful than she was. Or maybe he just had more years of practice than she did. “I’m going to get a glass of lemonade. Would you like one?”
“No, thank you.” Mrs. Hart was distracted, searching for someone across the room. “I think I see your father. I’m going to speak with him.”
Amelia grinned. Likely her mother wanted to dance, and her father was about to find himself cajoled into doing so with her.
She made her way out of the ballroom into the refreshments area and helped herself to a small piece of cake. Savoring the sweetness on her tongue and the fluffy lightness of the cake itself, she quickly checked that neither the Duke of Wight nor the Earl of Winn was within eyesight.
She hadn’t seen them thus far, but she didn’t want to let her guard down. Regardless of whether or not she trusted Lord Longley’s motives, he was undeniably the most appealing of the bunch, and honestly, she didn’t believe he wished her harm.She’d just prefer not to feel so blind where he was concerned.
If she knew his reasons for courting her, then she could respond appropriately.
Not knowing made her vulnerable.
She meandered between the tables and poured herself a glass of lemonade, then stood in the corner to sip it, enjoying the tang.
“Miss Hart.”
She turned toward the feminine voice and scarcely hid her grimace. “Miss Wentham.”
The pretty blonde wore a smirk that said she knew something Amelia didn’t. She hated it. She’d disliked Miss Wentham even before she’d insulted her dress. There was just something predatory about her.
Miss Wentham lifted a delicate glass to her lips and drank. “I just thought you ought to know that someone like the Earl of Longley can only possibly want you for your family’s money. There’s no other reason he would tolerate your company.”
The words cut. Not because they were untrue but because they too closely aligned with her own fears.
“The earl is wealthy,” she said, keeping her chin high. “He has no reason to need my family’s fortune.”
Miss Wentham’s smirk deepened, and she shrugged and sauntered away.
Try as she might, Amelia could not unhear Miss Wentham’s claim. Her mind was busy turning over possibilities while she finished her drink and tracked down her mother. By the time the earl appeared for their second dance, she’d grown tired of all the “what-ifs.”
As he took her hand and drew her onto the dance floor alongside him, she gathered the courage to do something that would infuriate her mother if she found out.
“Why are you courting me?” she asked quietly.
One of his reddish-brown eyebrows flew up. “What do you mean, why?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” She placed her hand in his and circled around him, keeping in time with the other dancers.
“Because you are interesting.” They switched hands and circled the other way. “I like that we can have conversations together.”
That could be true,a voice in her mind whispered.
