Page 85 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
He pulled the covers up to her chin, and as she dozed off, she could have sworn she heard him say, “When I went looking for a wife, I never expected to find one like you.”
All she had time to think was: is that a good thing… or not?
CHAPTER 20
“Areyou sure you’re up to this?” Andrew asked his mother for the second time that night. “It was only days ago you were laid up in bed with a fever.”
Lady Drake rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Besides, if we’re to host our own ball, we need all the inspiration we can get.”
“I can take notes,” Amelia told her. “I’ll pay attention to the music, the food, the decorations. There’s no need for you to go.”
Lady Drake huffed. “Amelia, darling, you may be excellent at details when it comes to your stories, but social events are not your forte. I’ll be all right. I haven’t had any symptoms yesterday or today. There’s no reason to worry.”
“Are you sure?” Amelia persisted.
“Quite.” She eyeballed them both. “And the next person who asks me whether I’m sure can expect to walk to the Winston ball.”
Andrew hid a laugh. Amelia may be stubborn, but his mother could be, too, in her own way. The two women sized each other up for a long moment, and then Amelia nodded.
“Take a shawl,” Amelia said. “We want to make sure you keep warm.”
With a sigh, Lady Drake summoned her maid and sent her upstairs to fetch a shawl that would match her dress.
Once the maid returned, Andrew took his mother’s arm and guided her through the front doors and down to the carriage. Usually, he’d escort Amelia, but he worried that Lady Drake wasn’t quite as recovered as she’d have them believe.
The ride to the ball took a while, since Winston Manor was on the other side of Mayfair from Longley House. They joined the line of carriages waiting outside and disembarked when they reached the front entrance. Andrew got out first and helped both women down, then linked one of his arms with each of them to walk up the stairs.
Winston Manor was a grand old building—slightly outdated but in a way that made it seem regal rather than worn out. They passed through a marble-floored foyer and reached another set of stairs that would descend into the ballroom. Their hosts stood in a row in front of the stairs to greet guests.
“Welcome, Lord and Lady Longley,” Lord Winston said. “And Lady Drake, it’s always a pleasure.”
Andrew bobbed his head in greeting to Lord and Lady Winston. “Seems like you’ve got a crush on your hands.”
Lady Winston grinned. “It’s too soon to know for sure, but I do hope you’re right.”
More guests arrived behind them.
“Please enjoy yourselves,” Lord Winston said, dismissing them so he could greet the newcomers.
Andrew stayed arm in arm with both his mother and his wife as they strolled down the stairs to the ballroom floor. On his left, Amelia was slightly stiff, as she often was at social events. On his right, his mother was also alert, but she was scanning their surroundings with interest, her sharp gaze cataloging everything she saw.
As they reached the bottom, a song ended. Perfectly timed.
He released them both, turned to Amelia, and bowed over her hand. “May I have this dance, wife of mine?”
Amelia blushed, then glanced at Lady Drake as if seeking confirmation.
“Go ahead,” his mother said. “I can occupy myself.”
“All right, then.”
They joined the dancers, and his heart lifted as he realized the dance was a waltz. He would get to keep her close, just as he preferred.
They moved into position, hands together, arms around each other. He leaned closer and breathed in her familiar scent.
“My lord,” she murmured, “you’re far too near to be decent.”
He winked. “Haven’t you heard? I’m not a particularly decent sort.”
