Page 22 of The Rules of Matrimony
“At dinner, I would request you call me Ian.” His whisper in her ear startled her and tickled her neck.
“I could never.”
“I must insist.”
She withheld her argument. He knew more about how things were done than she did. “I suppose you must call me Amie.” When she looked up at him, his nearness sent her heart pounding. He was more man than any she had ever met. Every woman who came near him was likely as affected as she. Could she really call him Ian? It was so intimate.
“Amie,” he uttered, drawing out the short syllables like long drips of syrup. It was likely a mere exercise of his tongue, but the feather-soft word sent a shiver of pleasure down her back. Never had a man outside her family said her given name, and never with a voice such as his. How could one word, one name, send her imagination whirling? If this was what being engaged did to her, she was entirely unprepared for marriage.
Thank heavens for Lord Reynolds’s rules. Er, Ian’s rules.
Her awareness of the rest of her surroundings sharpened suddenly as Ian led her into the drawing room. Soft blues accented the room, two tan sofas sat parallel to each other, and a stunning white-stone fireplace crowned the room. Her eyes glossed over the elegance, drawing quickly to the five people whose chatter abruptly stopped.
Why, it was the woman from the graveyard! Lady Kellen—was that her name? What was she doing here?
At once, everyone stood.
The man next to Lady Kellen cleared his throat. “These are the guests you insisted on inviting tonight?”
Was this Ian’s father? His brows were set low over a pair of stern eyes. Did ... did he not know about Amie and Ian’s engagement? She wanted to ask Ian, but this man’s commanding gaze silenced any desire to speak. Ian had warned her, saying he wanted to keep her away from his father. She should have asked more questions.The man resembled Ian in height and breadth of shoulders, but his coloring was darker. Their frowns, however, were extremely similar.
She looked up at Ian, whose own brows and the set of his mouth stayed remarkably steady. He wasn’t intimidated, butshecertainly was. It was quite clear that her presence was not desired.
“Yes, these are the special guests I told you about.” Ian turned to her. “May I present my parents, Lord and Lady Kellen, and our guests, Lord and Lady Halbert and their daughter, Miss Foster?” He motioned to Amie next. “This is Miss Tyler and her mother, Mrs. Tyler.”
Amie dipped into a hasty curtsy. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mama dip into a much more careful curtsy, one that impressed and surprised Amie. Should Amie have lowered herself more? Kept her head bent? She felt completely out of her element, especially with her antithesis, Miss Foster, standing ten feet away. Miss Foster’s flawlessly molded white-blonde hair was an extension of her utterly gorgeous gown. She was an exemplary model of the prime of Society, where Amie was the neglected, overlooked sort. How Amie must pale in comparison to everyone here. Ian had chosen wrong for himself. No matter his excuses, he should be engaged to Miss Foster.
“It is an honor to meet you,” Mama said, her hand curled in a half circle at her chest, and her other hand flared out to the side. Anywhere else, Amie would have called her silly, but here it seemed appropriately dramatic.
This was not the kind of world Amie was prepared to live in.
“It is wonderful to see you again,” Lady Kellen said, stepping forward.
“You know them?” Ian’s father asked.
“We’ve met briefly,” Lady Kellen answered.
Ian’s brow rose. “I had no idea.”
“It must have been fate. We encountered each other by chance, you see,” Lady Kellen clarified, coming to stand by Mama. “Do you remember?”
Mama preened. “Indeed. You were partial to my bonnet.” The way Mama said it was as though she were the lady and Lady Kellen her lesser.
“I was.” Lady Kellen grinned. “It is so good to see you both again, and on the arm of my son.”
“I did not guess at your close relation,” Amie said, finding her voice.
“Titles can be confusing,” Lady Kellen explained. “The late Lord Reynolds was my husband’s father. By the hand of fate, he never lived to be the Earl of Kellen. My husband, however, took on the role fairly young in life. We do not always choose our path, do we?”
Amie ducked her head, knowing this answer all too well. “No, we do not.”
Lady Kellen reached for her hand. “How happy I am that you can be our guests tonight.”
“It is I who am happy,” Ian said quickly. “I have news to share. Miss Tyler and I are engaged to be married.” For someone who claimed he was happy, he sounded a lot like he was pronouncing someone’s death.
Indeed, the room reacted as if he had. Lady Halbert gasped, while Miss Foster paled.
“What did you say?” Lord Kellen stepped away from the sofa toward them.
