Page 44 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
As she hurried down the stairs, she thought to check her dress to make sure it was acceptable for interacting with an earl. It was probably a little plain, and the skirt was slightly crumpled from sitting for so long, but it would have to do.
She shivered as she reached the ground floor. It was cooler than on the second floor—especially her bedchamber, which was flooded with midafternoon light.
She rounded the corner into the drawing room and forced a smile onto her face.
“My lord.” She swept into a curtsy. “How lovely to see you.”
He grinned at her from where he stood in front of the bookshelf, flashing his crooked incisor. For some reason, the sight of it felt oddly intimate. “And you too.”
She glanced at Mary, who stood in the corner with her hands folded over her lap and her head down.
“Our housekeeper will be in with tea and cake. I assume you’ve come to discuss my proposition?”
He opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to respond, Mrs. Hart glided through the doorway and into the drawing room. She beamed at Lord Longley and shot Amelia a disapproving glare.
“What a surprise to see you, my lord,” she said. “Do forgive my lateness. I wasn’t informed that we have a guest.”
His mouth quirked up on one side. “That’s perfectly all right, Mrs. Hart. You’re here now.”
“I am indeed. Would you like some tea?”
Longley met Amelia’s gaze. “Miss Hart just finished telling me that tea and cakes will arrive momentarily.”
Mrs. White hurried in, faltering slightly when she spotted Mrs. Hart, but she covered the brief hesitation and set the tea tray on the side table.
“Amelia?” Mrs. Hart said.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Won’t you be a dear and fix the earl a cup of tea?”
Amelia struggled not to laugh at Mrs. Hart’s attempt to show off her domestic skills in front of a potential husband. She poured him a cup, grateful she could recall his preference from last time. Sugar, but no milk. She passed it to him, then prepared a cup for her mother and then herself.
Her mother accepted the saucer and perched on the edge of a brown leather chair.
“Why on earth did you see fit to receive a caller in this room?” she asked Amelia. “The blue drawing room is far more suited to such things.”
Yes, and she’d thought being in the yellow drawing room was less likely to attract her mother’s attention, but look how that had worked out.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Hart was right. The yellow drawingroom had fewer chairs, so unless Amelia wanted to sit at the desk, she had to either remain standing and allow Longley to take the other chair or claim it herself. She couldn’t decide whether her mother would prefer for her to abide by society’s dictates and sit or show graciousness by offering the earl her seat.
Fortunately, he saved her from making the decision.
“Miss Hart, please take a seat,” he said, gesturing at the chair with his free hand. “Don’t feel the need to stand on my account.”
Relieved, she did as he said, arranging her skirts around herself and holding on to her teacup and saucer.
“What brings you here on a day as cold as this one?” Mrs. Hart asked. “I’d have thought everyone would be eager to stay home.”
He glanced at Amelia, and she did her best not to let him know she was quietly panicking. He wouldn’t sell her out, would he?
He smirked. “I simply couldn’t stand the idea of going another day without Miss Hart’s company. After our visit to the museum, she suggested I read a particular paper of interest to her, and I wanted to give her my thoughts on it.”
Her chest tightened. He must be referring to the marriage agreement she’d given him.
Mrs. Hart’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing too academic, I hope?”
The earl waved dismissively. “No, nothing like that. It was an article about women’s fashion through the ages.”
