Page 20 of Murder in Matrimony
“I do not have to quit because I don’t subscribe.” Lady Catherine put a hand on Lady Applegate’s arm, and they shared a smile.
“You must find it difficult to know the contents of her column without a subscription.” Kitty fluttered her long eyelashes, feigning ignorance, and Amelia bit back a chuckle.
“My staff are devoted readers.” Lady Catherine dipped her chin. “As you can imagine, all the underclasses are. I pick it up now and again when I am bored.”
Lady Applegate nodded in agreement as she did with everything Lady Catherine said. “Regardless, she should reveal the name. I personally will not sleep until she does.”
Lord Applegate’s barrel-shaped stomach expanded. “Nor I.”
“Lady Amesbury.” Entering the small group, Marielle Bainbridge affectionately reached for Amelia’s hands. “I haven’t had the chance to say good evening. How are you?”
Amelia smiled, the trouble with Lady Agony temporarily forgotten. Marielle looked entirely like her brother: black hair, green eyes, a Grecian nose. More striking than her looks was her commanding style, a confidence not usually seen at her young age. Amelia admired her independence and forthrightness. She felt entirely at ease with Marielle. In fact, the entire Bainbridge clan was beginning to feel like family. “Very well, Lady Marielle. And you and Lord Traber?”
“I am fine.” Lady Marielle indicated Lord Traber with a toss of her head. “Lord Traber, however, is doing his best to survive a conversation akin to the Spanish Inquisition.” She leaned in close. “Can you do something with my brother?”
Amelia followed her gaze to the pair. Simon had Lord Traber in the corner, where the young man was tugging on his cravat. His wheat-colored hair fell forward as he jerked on the collar, and he attempted to smooth it back with his hand. She returned to Marielle, who was frowning. They had grown close the last month, and Amelia hated to see her distressed. “I can try.” Shegave her what she hoped was an encouraging look. “Excuse me.”
As Amelia approached the men, she noted the clipped tone of the words,duty,honor, andloyalty. Goodness! Was Simon having a conversation with Lord Traber or enlisting him in the Royal Navy? It would take all her charm—and luck—to dissuade him from the topic.
“Good evening, Lord Traber. Lord Bainbridge.” Amelia tilted her head closer to Simon, hoping he would notice she was wearing his favorite rose perfume.
He did, inhaling briefly. “Lady Amesbury.” He glanced appreciatively at her olive gown, which went well with her skin tone, a smile flickering on his lips.
She took a step closer to him so he could appreciate it further.
“Good evening, Lady Amesbury.” Lord Traber took a slow breath as if he’d been treading water for some time and was now on dry land. “Lady Marielle has told me so much about you.”
Amelia smiled. “Likewise.”
“I feel as if we are friends already.” Lord Traber seemed pleased with the new direction of the conversation, at least until Simon flashed a scowl at him. Then he looked young and unsure again, quickly dropping his gaze to the floor.
“Before I forget why I came over here, I noticed a family portrait in the gallery,” said Amelia. “It must be new.”
Simon was immediately interested. “Did you observe Marielle wore my mother’s necklace for the sitting?”
“I did not. Would you mind showing me?” Amelia had noticed but thought this would be the perfect escape for the young Traber.
Simon frowned at Lord Traber.
“Oh, I don’t mind. Go ahead.” Lord Traber gestured to the door with eagerness. “Please.”
Amelia gave Marielle, who was watching, a wink as she followed Simon out the door. Quickly, he turned the corner and walked to the portrait gallery.
“I hate to leave that fellow alone with my sister, but I’d like you to see this,” Simon was saying.
“They are hardly alone. Gracious, Simon, there are twelve guests in attendance.”
“Still, I don’t like it.”
“Will you like anyone who courts her?” Amelia asked.
He turned around. “Most likely not.” He continued walking to the newly hung portrait of Marielle, his father, and himself. Marielle was positioned between them, and at the byzantine neckline of her white gown lay a stunning blue diamond. He flourished a hand at the portrait.
“It’s beautiful, Simon. Truly. I am so happy for you and your family.”
“I am as well.” He took her hand. “And I have you to thank for it.”
The Bainbridges had been through a lot: death, betrayal, murder. The turmoil had strained their bond exponentially. How could it not? The aftermath of Lady Bainbridge’s passing left them bereft, and instead of leaning on each other for support in the difficult time, they dealt with it in their own separate ways. Isolation added to injury, deepening the divide. When Marielle began to court the once-manager of their stables, George Davies, problems compounded, eventually coming to a head when he was murdered. Thankfully, they resolved them—with a little help from Amelia. But the family had done the work of repairing their relationships. She had simply encouraged them. “It was nothing.”
