Page 88 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“You ought to be careful drinking so much in public or rumors will spread,” a snide voice said from a few feet away.
Amelia slowly turned toward the voice. “As it was my first drink of the night, I hardly think there’s cause for concern, Miss Wentham.”
Miss Wentham smirked. “You’re rarely concerned when perhaps you ought to be.”
Amelia frowned. “What are you talking about?”
The other woman raised a glass of lemonade to her lips, her expression as predatory as ever. “Simply that it’s irresponsible of you to allow your husband to be seen with his mistress in front of so many people who matter.”
“W-what?” Amelia placed her drink down and patted her chest, her throat constricting involuntarily.
“Oh dear.” Miss Wentham pursed her lips. “Didn’t you know?”
“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, and she didn’t sound as certain as she’d like to. After all, she had just been wondering about the relationship between him and the beautiful blonde. If she was his mistress, it would certainly explain the tension, and why he’d been so displeased when she approached them while he and Amelia were out together.
Perhaps she’d secretly feared making this exact discovery, even if she hadn’t been brave enough to admit it to herself.
Her heart sank. No matter what she might want to believe, her gut told her that there might be some truth to Miss Wentham’s claim.
“Why would you think that?” she asked.
Miss Wentham lifted one pink-clad shoulder and dropped it again. “Miss Giles is a cousin on my mother’s side. Not exactly the type of relative one is proud of, but she has her uses, nonetheless. She is an excellent source of information.”
Amelia shook her head. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and insist it wasn’t true. That Andrew wouldn’t disrespect her so blatantly by engaging with his mistress in public, especially not when they were….
Well, what were they, exactly?
Married, to be sure, and she’d thought there was more growing between them than that, but really, all they’d donewas fulfill their duties to each other. He’d supported her and not stood in the way of her career, and she’d provided him with the opportunity to obtain an heir and enough wealth to get back on his feet.
If she’d read more into their situation than was warranted, that was on her.
She turned away from Miss Wentham and blinked rapidly, refusing to let that vulture see the tears that wanted to fall. She felt violated but couldn’t even explain why. No one had broken any agreements. Andrew had not betrayed her. At least, not technically.
Yet, she felt as though he had.
She drew in a breath, struggling to fill her lungs, which were growing tighter by the second. Of course Andrew would have a mistress. She couldn’t possibly compare to the beautiful, more experienced women he was used to. He was with her by necessity, not choice.
Amelia gathered herself enough to cross the room to Lady Drake.
“I’m afraid I am not feeling well,” she told her. It was the truth, even if not all of it. “I am going home.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry.” Amelia didn’t wait to hear her protests. She hurried up the stairs, across the foyer, and sent for the Longley carriage. As soon as it arrived, she clambered in and called for the driver to go.
They rumbled down the street, and her mind flitted back to the intensity between Miss Giles and Andrew during their exchange inside the Winstons’ ballroom. She didn’t want to believe them to be lovers, but honestly… she could.
Their conversation had obviously been heated, and Miss Giles was far more the type of woman she’d expect to attract him than she herself was.
She massaged her temples.Perhaps the situation wasn’t what it seemed. Miss Wentham could have said what she didsimply to be spiteful. That wouldn’t be out of character. Or perhaps they truly were old friends and the friendship had ended on a sour note. Although that didn’t quite ring true to Amelia.
She’d have to ask Andrew. But not tonight.
Honestly, all she wanted tonight was to tell the driver to set a course for the countryside and keep going until she’d outrun the bloody aristocracy and all their rules and double standards.
But she couldn’t. He was Andrew’s driver, not hers. Perhaps if she were Miss Joceline Davies, she’d know how to persuade him to save her from this wretched night, but if Amelia was honest with herself, she would always fall short of Joceline’s courage. She’d never minded being practical, but now, she wished she wasn’t. It would be awfully satisfying just to run off.
Although, if she did that, she wouldn’t uncover the truth, and she’d always wonder. She briefly considered fleeing to her parents’ home to put off the inevitable for a few nights, but she couldn’t stomach the notion of allowing her mother any sort of control over her life again.
