Page 49 of Murder in Matrimony
Lord Drake turned to Amelia. “It would appear my secret is safe once again thanks to you.”
“It’s the least I could do for a friend,” she reassured him.
“I am grateful for your friendship.”
“And I yours,” said Amelia. “You will be at my sister’s wedding?”
“I would not miss it.” He, too, was smiling now. “She, like myself, is lucky to count you as a confidante. After the trouble with Radcliffe, I was certain she would be run out of London. I might have known better with you on her side. Not only that, but she is to be married to a fine man. They have my heartiest congratulations.”
“Captain Fitzisa fine man, and I am very happy for them.” She looked in the direction of the exit. “In fact, I should be getting back. Arrangements have been consuming every spare moment.”
“I can imagine, especially with so little time to make them.” Lord Drake started to say something, stopped, and began again. “By the by, I read Lady Agony’s column after we met last time. I have to say that I find it wonderfully refreshing.”
“Oh?” Amelia wasn’t sure how to reply.
“She encourages independent thinking. We could use more of that in the world.” His eyes met hers. “As for the thefts, shetreated the return of the jewels as recompense enough for the crimes, entirely excusing the behavior. But you know this—having read her column.”
“Indeed, I do.” She had a hard time looking away, for his eyes were filled with questions she could not answer.
“If I met her, I would shake her hand and thank her for her generosity.”
“I’m certain she would like that,” Amelia said non-committedly.
“I must let you get back to your wedding plans, and I have a dozen things to do before I am done with the day.” He fastened the single button on his coat. “Goodbye, Lady Amesbury.” He stuck out his hand.
She took it, and he pressed it heartily.
“Thank you for your generosity. I shan’t forget it.”
After he walked away, she turned in the opposite direction. He was an intelligent man. He clearly guessed she was Lady Agony. But he wouldn’t press her for the information in a hundred years, nor would she press him for confirmation about his relationship in Cornwall. People didn’t need to know everything to be great friends. Sometimes it was the knowledge that there was more beyond the surface of a person that garnered admiration and respect. She looked forward to learning more about Lord Drake over time.
Right now, wedding plans loomed large in her mind, not to mention the investigation into Mr. Cross’s murder. It wouldn’t be long, and her friends would arrive to put the plan to examine the fireplace in motion.
What awaited her, however, when she arrived home was not wedding schedules or friends but Winifred on the steps with her jacks. She hadn’t seen Winifred play the game in a long time, calling it “babyish” last time her friend Beatrice Gray was over. But now she sat by herself, as if in deep thought, offhandedly bouncing the ball.
Winifred is growing up, Amelia thought as she gazed upon the beautiful girl who was as close as any daughter. Amelia suspected the game was a pretense for what Winifred really wished to do today: discuss Amelia’s family. She’d overheardAunt Tabitha talking about the arrival of various interesting family members and had several questions for her already.
“Good morning, Winifred.”
“You’re back!” Winifred scooted over, and Amelia joined her on the step.
“Have you been waiting long?” asked Amelia.
“No, but I have been waiting to ask you about the Feathered Nest.”
Amelia flourished a hand. “Ask away.”
“I can’t imagine meeting new strangers every night of the week,” continued Winifred. “It must have been thrilling, much more thrilling than your life now.”
Amelia smiled. “When put that way, it does sound thrilling, but I assure you, it was not. Everyone I met got to leave while I had to stay.”
“But your family.” Winifred tossed the rubber ball and picked up jacks in groups of three. “They sound extraordinarily interesting. I do not care what Aunt Tabitha said to Mrs. Tipping. I hope they all come, including Aunt Gertrude.”
A sputter of laughter rose to Amelia’s lips. “Aunt Gertrude is a wonderful person, I assure you. She is … different than Aunt Tabitha in that they have not been raised in the same manner or households. But they are of similar age and authority. They might even get on quite well.”
Winifred fumbled her jacks and set down the ball. “I, for one, cannot wait until they arrive.”
“Nor I.” She noted the sparkle in Winifred’s Amesbury-blue eyes.
