Page 93 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“Not exactly. He—”
“Say no more.” Kate held her hand up to cut Amelia off. “Shall we go shopping and charge the bill back to him?”
Amelia’s stomach squeezed. No matter how well-intentioned the offer may be, all it did was remind her of why Andrew had married her. So his sister and mother would be able to shop if they wished to. So Kate could have a season. Not because he was suddenly and unexpectedly smitten by an ink-stained bluestocking.
“I don’t think that would make me feel any better,” Amelia admitted.
“Hmm.” Kate tapped her chin thoughtfully. “What would?”
Amelia cocked her head, considering. Anything related to Andrew was off-limits, as was anything that required money. But there was one thing she knew she could safely focus on.
“Would you like to hear about the book I’m currently working on?” she asked.
Kate brightened. “The second one about Miss Joceline?”
“Yes.” She nibbled her lip, uncertain what Kate’s response would be. She certainly didn’t adore books as Amelia did, but she hadn’t shown a disdain for reading either, and she’d happily listened to Amelia go on about her first book.
“I’d love to,” Kate said, shuffling down onto the sofacushion and making herself comfortable. “Tell me all about it.”
So Amelia did, starting with the end of the first book and carrying on to Joceline’s more recent adventures.
“I can’t help but feel that this fickle suitor of Joceline’s may be somewhat inspired by my brother,” Kate observed, far more astutely than Amelia had expected.
She flushed, embarrassed to have been caught out. Hopefully no one else would notice. “Not exactly, but….”
Kate patted her hand. “Andrew may be a dolt at times, but he’s a good man. If you’re honest with him about whatever he’s done to upset you, I’m sure he will do his best to put it right.”
Amelia forced herself to smile. “Perhaps.”
Or perhaps if he found out that her feelings for him had grown beyond what they ought to be, he’d break her heart in a thousand tiny ways. It would never be intentional. He wasn’t a cruel person. But wounds stung regardless of whether they were inflicted purposefully, and there was only so much a heart could take.
Hers had, unfortunately, attached itself to Andrew. She could only hope he never realized it.
CHAPTER 22
When Amelia strodeinto the drawing room, she expected to find Kate, Brigid, and Mrs. Smythe ready to make plans for her first ball. Instead, Andrew was the only one awaiting her.
He rose as she entered. “You look lovely, Amelia.”
She blinked rapidly, caught off guard. “What’s happening? I’m supposed to be going through options for our ball with your mother and sister.”
He sauntered over to her and kissed her cheek. “Mother and Kate are quite capable of working on that themselves. You and I are going on a picnic.”
She stiffened, reluctant to be alone with him. “I really shouldn’t leave when they’re relying on me to help.”
“No need to worry about that,” Lady Drake said, sweeping into the room and bringing a waft of lavender-scented air with her. “Kate and I have it all under control.”
“Are you sure?” Perhaps if she pleaded with her eyes, Lady Drake would take pity on her.
Unfortunately, that did not occur. Quite to the contrary, Kate glided in behind Lady Drake with a selection of fabric samples draped over her arm.
“We can manage perfectly well,” Kate assured her. “Mama and I both enjoy this sort of thing. You don’t. Let us do this for you.”
Amelia ground her teeth together. There weren’t many things over which she’d choose to make ball preparations, but spending time with her husband when their last one-on-one conversation had centered around his mistress topped the list.
“Perfect.” Andrew’s palm scalded the small of her back. “Let’s go, then.”
“I’ll need a redingote,” she protested.
