Page 7 of The Rules of Matrimony
“Engaged?” The Peterson sisters said at once.
“Mama!” Amie finally sputtered, clutching her throat. Shock reverberated through her ears down to her scuffed half boots. “What are you saying?”
“Not now, Amie.” Mama shushed her, then as if she were announcing to the entire street, declared loudly, “My daughter isengagedto Lord Reynolds.”
W-who was Lord Reynolds?
Amie’s eyes widened past their conceivable size. Oh, no. No, no, no. That was the name etched on the headstone Lady Kellen had pointed to! The world tilted underneath Amie’s feet. She could faint. Mama had announced Amie’s engagement to a dead man!
“Lord Reynolds?” Miss Peterson repeated, her voice as incredulous as if the apparition of Amie’s dead betrothed had appeared directly in front of her.
Mama’s mouth opened and closed several times like a fish before she settled on a nod.
“Mama!” Amie scolded, begging with her eyes for her mother to confess the truth.
Lady Kellen’s carriage rolled forward, ignorant of the scandal erupting behind it. What would the kind woman say to having her family’s name abused? And worse, tied so shamefully to Amie?
“Why are we just hearing of this? It’s all rather shocking,” Miss Peterson said, and Miss Matilda nodded.
“It was a secret,” Mama answered succinctly. “And now it is not.” She justified her lie as calmly as one would describe the weather.
Amie covered her face with her hand, the world spinning behind her closed lids. It had happened again. Her mother’s pride and nerves had gotten the better of her. But this! This was by far her worst mistake yet!
Miss Peterson beckoned Miss Matilda to follow her. “We must tell everyone. No one will believe it.” The Peterson sisters rushed away in the opposite direction the carriage had gone.
Amie’s heart pounded, fear tightening around her ribs and threatening to burst. “Mama, how could you have done something so foolish?” She was too upset to even produce tears.
“Forgive me, Amie, but whatever you do, do not correct them. Your reputation depends on everyone believing us.”
“So does our living situation!” Amie did not get angry easily, but her fears added to her mounting frustration. “What will Uncle think of this?”
“He will congratulate you the same as everyone else.” Her mother had the gall to look satisfied with herself. “You might think me foolish, but I think it is the best day of our lives. What good news to have you engaged!”
Amie would laugh if she could, but she found absolutely no humor in the situation. “But it’s all a lie. Eventually, people will wonder why a suitor never visits and why I never wed.”
Her mother tilted her head as though a glimpse of reality passed in front of her for a brief moment. “We will find a different suitor before that happens. You are a special daughter, remember? Try not to worry, and trust your mama.”
Trust Mama? What Amie needed was not trust but a miracle. Once her aunt and uncle learned of her mother’s deceit—and they would—nothing would stop them from sending Amie and Mama away. With no money or connections left, there was nowhere else to go.
They would be homeless.
Chapter 3
Another day, another argument. Ianstalked away from Father’s office. This time he didn’t have his horse at the ready for a quick escape. This particular attack had been an ambush.
His mother stood at the end of the corridor, fussing over another bouquet guilt-purchased by Father to make himself feel better for his transgressions. The bright blooms overflowing from the top of the French-style console were an antithesis to the giver’s personality.
When Mother looked up, her calm facade did not quite hide the tension Ian knew lay just beneath the surface. She normally did not come to London for the Season, not with the regular rumors of Father’s mistresses circling about, but she had made an exception to keep the peace between him and Father. She was single-handedly the greatest reason Ian had no desire to marry. Father had neglected both of them for the majority of Ian’s life, and Ian would never ruin a family like his father had.
Mother picked up a pile of letters from the edge of the table, but her attention was wholly on him. “Ian ...”
“Don’t you dare tell me that you agree with Father.” He rooted himself in front of her, refusing to budge on the matter. “I cannot relent, even for you.”
Mama’s rigid posture did not even flinch at his harsh tone, and she employed a firm but gentle one in return. “Your father hopes this marriage will secure your future. He wants the best for you.”
“He wants the best for himself.” How was it not obvious to her?
“You have only seen the worst in him for years now, Ian. He’s trying so hard to connect with you, and I do wish you would makean effort in return.” She clutched the letters to her chest in a pleading motion.
