Page 80 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Andrew detached himself from her mother and wrapped his arm around her. His lips brushed her ear as he said, “We probably should organize a ball, just to make sure everyone acknowledges your rightful place among us.”
She tried to glare at him, but it was difficult when he was holding her like she mattered. “Must we?”
“Only once,” he said.
She huffed. “That had better be a promise. I’m not making this an annual occurrence.”
He kissed her. “It won’t be. And don’t worry, the servants can do most of the legwork. I can even have Mrs. Smythe make the decor choices if you’d like.”
“But—” Mrs. Hart began to protest, but he cut her off with a hand gesture.
“It won’t interfere with your writing time,” he told her, proving how well he was coming to know her.
She sighed. “Fine. But, Mother, this will not be happening again.”
Mrs. Hart clapped, obviously delighted. Amelia wasn’t sure she’d even heard the warning.
“I’ll be in touch about the planning.” She whirled around. “I must find your father and let him know.”
Amelia turned to Andrew. “Now you’ve done it.”
He flashed that effortlessly charming grin that seemed to get him out of everything. “It doesn’t have to be a big fuss. One evening of your life and a few minutes to make decisions before then. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” It had better be so simple.
He chuckled and linked her arm with his. “Come. I see one of my acquaintances over there. Let me introduce you.”
Unfortunately, they hadn’t made it halfway across the room before a ruddy-cheeked gentleman with a slightly crooked cravat stepped into their path.
“Longley.” He wobbled slightly. “Congratulations, old chap. Didn’t expect you to tie yourself down this season. Lost a chunk of change to Falvey because of it. I should have known that weasel knew something I didn’t or else he wouldn’t have been making a bet in the first place.”
“Mr. White,” Andrew said stiffly, glancing at Amelia in a way that told her he’d rather not spend time with this man. “Have you met the Countess of Longley?”
Mr. White took Amelia’s hand and dropped a slobbery kiss on the back of it. After reclaiming her hand, she subtly wiped it on her skirt.
“Charmed, my lady,” he said. “You must be something special to tempt Longley here into marriage.”
Yes. Rich.
She grimaced at the thought. What would Mr. White say if he knew exactly why Andrew had married her?
Except for an initial shock at the fact the earl had been defrauded, she doubted he’d be surprised.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. White.” She looked around, wondering if they might extricate themselves from this conversation. Her gaze fell on a woman standing alone in a scandalously low-cut dress.
Recognition hit. It was the woman from the teashop. The one who’d called Andrew by his given name.
He followed her gaze and immediately paled. “Well, it was good to see you, as always, but the countess and I must be off. We are due elsewhere.”
“What?” Mr. White blustered. “But—”
Andrew tugged Amelia away from him and toward the door.
“What is happening?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.
As they made their farewells and stepped out into the cool night air, she couldn’t help but wonder: who was that woman, and why was Andrew avoiding her?
CHAPTER 19
