Page 91 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“I’m not.” Andrew glanced at Chautner’s half-drunk brandy, wondering whether he’d notice if it vanished. He could use a bloody drink. “Miss Giles should not have approached me in public like that. I don’t have any sort of attachment to her, nor do I intend to form one. I’m quite enjoying married life.”
Falvey snorted. “You’d better be careful or you’ll become as tiringly proper as Ashford.”
Mr. Thompson dealt Andrew a hand.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Andrew said, ignoring the fact that it certainly hadn’t been intended as such. “Ashford is my closest friend, and I admire the man greatly.”
Falvey shook his head. “Another good man falls afoul of marital bliss. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I don’t think anyone here can claim you haven’t warned them,” Winthrop muttered. “One would think you’re utterly besieged by marriage-minded mamas and giggling misses, the way you go on.”
The two men traded barbs for a few minutes until they settled into the game.
Andrew only stayed long enough not to make it obvious that he’d been on an information-gathering mission before he said his goodbyes and departed. He’d just crawled out of a bad financial situation and had no desire to tempt fate by betting on card games.
When he arrived home, Mrs. Smythe quietly let him know that Amelia had returned only a few minutes earlierand could be found in the library. He headed straight there, wanting to reduce her opportunity to escape unnoticed.
Gray light streamed through the windows, and the air smelled faintly musty. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Smythe to air it out at the next suitable opportunity.
Amelia was stretched comfortably along a sofa in front of the window, reading a book he hadn’t seen before. Perhaps she’d been to the bookshop. When she saw him, she swung her legs off the cushion and placed her book face down on the table.
“Don’t trouble yourself to stand,” he said, all too aware of how stiff he sounded. “I’ll join you.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’m happy to go elsewhere. I don’t want to intrude on your privacy.”
“If you were to go elsewhere, then I’d have to follow,” he told her. “I’m here to speak with you.”
“Oh.” She seemed uncertain how to react. “I’m sorry for disappearing last night. A headache came on quite suddenly, and I couldn’t bear the noise.”
He stalked toward her, noting the slight flare of her nostrils and the widening of her eyes. “Is that what happened?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin. “I’m feeling much improved now, though.”
He sat on the end of the sofa and crossed his legs. “You see, I was afraid that perhaps someone had said something to make you uncomfortable.”
Something flickered across her expression, but it was gone so fast, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.
“What would anyone have said to make me uncomfortable?” she asked with an edge of defiance.
His heart sank. Someonehadsaid something. Either that, or she’d noticed his preoccupation with Florence. He couldn’t forget how observant she was.
Internally, he debated what to say. He’d prefer not to come straight out with it, but ignoring the matter wouldn’t help either. If he didn’t tell her where things stood, then she was free to wonder, and he already knew she had quite the imagination.
He reached for her hand, grateful when she let him take it. “Perhaps someone might have mentioned my… friendship… with Miss Giles?”
The corners of her mouth tightened. “Your ‘friendship’ with Miss Giles is none of my concern.”
His gut clenched. Did she really believe that?
“You aren’t breaking our agreement,” she continued, gazing somewhere past his shoulder. “You’re allowed to conduct your private affairs however you see fit.”
He felt a pang. Perhaps he wasn’t breaking their agreement, but she was breaking his heart. “Would you really not care if I had a mistress?”
She pulled her hand away and clasped it on her lap with her other one. “It’s not my place to have an opinion.” Her voice was thick with emotion, making a liar of her. “However, I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from flaunting her—or any future mistress—in front of the ton. I don’t deserve to be humiliated in such a way.”
He struggled to draw a breath, instinctively reaching for her again, but she pulled back, creating more distance between them.
“I’m sorry.” He wished he could take her into his arms. She was right. She deserved better than the scene that he and Florence had created last night. “I’m so sorry. I swear to you, she and I are no longer together. I haven’t been with her since I met you, but she was upset when I ended things, so she’s lashing out however she can.”
