Page 50 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“The next dance is mine,” he said gruffly.
She took his hand without protest, although there was no missing the puzzlement that passed across her face.
“Do you like the theater?” he asked impulsively.
She blinked rapidly, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. “Very much.”
“Will you accompany me tomorrow night?” He wondered when his mouth had started making plans without his brain’s permission.
“I would love to.”
“Excellent.” Now he would simply have to arrange to attend the theater with very little notice and ensure his mother came along so no one could accuse him of having nefarious intentions.
Damn.
Amelia couldn’t stop smilingas Lord Longley helped her down from the carriage and walked side by side with her into the theater. A secret part of her felt special that he’d invited her to watch a play. This wasn’t something they needed to do as part of their courtship. It wasn’t expected.
And yet, he’d asked anyway. She could only presume he’d done so because he knew she would enjoy it. She was especially excited because this was not only a play, but one set inItaly. For a brief time, she could immerse herself in the story and pretend to be there herself.
Lord Longley escorted her to a box above and slightly to the right of the stage. From there, they would have a perfect view.
“Shall we sit in the front?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
They claimed chairs in the center of the box. Her father sat to her left, and her mother joined the dowager countess to the right of the earl.She was closely attuned to the earl’s presence beside her, his body heat radiating across the small space between them.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she told him softly. “Thank you for the invitation.”
He smiled. “I hope it lives up to your expectations.”
The show began, and gradually, Amelia became absorbed and was able to put the earl’s proximity to the back of her mind—except for as a conversational partner. More than once, she found herself whispering something to him before darting a look at her mother, certain she was about to be scolded. Fortunately, Mrs. Hart paid her little attention, and the earl seemed entertained by her running commentary.
He didn’t chastise her for distracting him or suggest that women were less knowledgeable about literature than men and so she ought to keep her views to herself. He treated her comments with respect and answered her questions thoughtfully.
By the time the show ended, she was giddy from the experience but also, deep inside, a little sad. She enjoyed spending time with the earl, but she couldn’t forget that he didn’t actually want to marry her. He’d courted her for her fortune. No matter how warmly she might feel toward him, she doubted he felt the same.
This was a practical match, not a love match, but he keptdoing and saying things that made it difficult for her to remember that.
They waited for the downstairs to empty before leaving their box so as not to be inundated by the crowd below. Once outside, Lord Longley summoned his carriage, and they all clambered in. As they started to move, the dowager countess made a comment about the superb acting, and Mr. Hart responded. Her mother was uncharacteristically silent.
To Amelia’s surprise, they passed by Longley House first, and a footman escorted the dowager inside. Mrs. Hart shot her a meaningful look. Amelia tried to ignore it.
When they arrived at the Hart residence, Lord Longley waited until they had all disembarked from the carriage before addressing Mr. Hart.
“May I speak with you in private, sir?” he asked.
Mr. Hart nodded, unsurprised. “Come into my office.”
Mrs. Hart raised her eyebrows at Amelia, who just shook her head. She could assume what the earl had in mind, but they hadn’t previously discussed it.
As soon as they entered the house, Mr. Hart and Lord Longley disappeared into the office. Mrs. Hart gestured for Amelia to join her in the drawing room. Amelia sat on a chaise in the dimly lit space, watching in the flickering light of a solitary lamp as her mother opened a cabinet and withdrew a bottle of sherry and two small glasses.
Amelia’s jaw dropped. She’d had no idea that was there.
Mrs. Hart caught Amelia’s eye. “I think you and I deserve one of these.”
She poured a couple of inches of sherry into each glass, returned the bottle to the cabinet, and passed one glass to Amelia.
