Page 34 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Maybe so, but she was afraid to believe it.
The earl seemed to consider the discussion closed because he didn’t say anything else. The dance finished. He bowed, and she curtsied.
“Allow me to walk you back to your mother?” he asked.
She accepted his arm.
He leaned closer to her. “I may be off the mark, but there is a new Roman history display at the museum. Would you like to attend with me on Sunday?”
“I’d love to!” The exclamation emerged before she had time to temper it. “I mean, I’ll have to ask my parents, but I can’t see it being a problem.”
She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as they rejoined her mother. Perhaps Longley was being truthful and transparent in his intentions after all. He’d shown that he enjoyed discussion of his travels, and if he wasdrawn to a historical exhibit at the museum, then they likely had other interests in common too.
Amelia may have been needlessly suspicious of him. She ought not to be so cynical. Sometimes things really were as they appeared.
Mrs. Hart sighed when they reached her. “You dance so well together.”
“Mother, the earl has invited me to an outing at the museum on Sunday,” Amelia gushed. “Please say I may go.”
A tiny groove formed between Mrs. Hart’s eyebrows, demonstrating her bewilderment, but it smoothed out quickly when she realized it would mean more one-on-one time between her daughter and a single earl.
“You’ll take Mary as chaperone?”
“Of course.”
“Then go ahead.”
Longley grinned, and for the first time, she noticed that one of his incisors was slightly crooked. It was endearing. “I’ll collect you at two.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Good job, Amelia,” her mother murmured as the earl walked away. “I do hope you didn’t mention your scribblings to him, though.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I didn’t. During our walk in Hyde Park, we discussed his time on the Indian subcontinent, which is likely what gave him the idea of inviting me to the museum.”
Mrs. Hart side-eyed her. “You didn’t pester him with questions, I hope.”
“I don’t believe so.” She struggled to maintain a straight face. In hindsight, she probably had asked too many questions, but he hadn’t protested, so she was going to assume she hadn’t been “pestering.”
“Do you—” Mrs. Hart broke off when the white-hairedDuke of Wight appeared out of nowhere directly in front of them.
“Ladies.” He bowed. “You both look… ravishing. Join me for a dance, Miss Hart?”
It was a question, but his intonation left little doubt that a refusal wasn’t possible. Amelia shot her mother a look as the duke took her hand and escorted her away.
“You must be popular tonight,” the duke said as they positioned themselves opposite each other. “You were never anywhere to be found.”
“I spent a while in the refreshments area.” She didn’t mention her dances with Lord Longley. If he hadn’t seen them for himself, she’d prefer he not know about them at all.If he realized he had such stiff competition, then he might begin to pursue her in earnest.
“I do hope that was all you did.”
Her jaw dropped at the muttered comment, but then the dance began. Since it was fast-paced, she didn’t have the opportunity to ask him what he’d meant until the song concluded, and by that point, she decided she’d rather not know.
She got the impression he was insinuating that she might have been having an illicit affair elsewhere on the premises, and such an insult could hardly be borne. Unfortunately, he was a duke, and she was a societal outcast, so she was not in any position to cause a scene.
She maintained her composure, separated from him as quickly as possible, and quietly simmered. She really hoped Lord Longley wasn’t playing games with her. Even if she didn’t particularly want to take a husband, he was a far superior choice to a rude, elderly duke and a drunken lecher of an earl.
Mrs. Hart, perhaps sensing her sour mood, made their farewells soon after, and they retreated from the ballroom and called for their carriage to be brought around.
