Chapter 8
“Coffee, Amelia? Amelia?”
Amelia jerked out of her reverie and contemplation of the magnificent breakfast spread.
“Hm?” she managed, blinking foolishly.
Letitia offered her a smile. “Coffee? I prefer coffee to tea in the morning. I know the fashion is all for chocolate, but that’s simply not to my taste. I can have something made for you, if you like.”
Amelia thought briefly of their paltry breakfasts at home. There’d be tea, the leaves well-stewed and almost tasteless, having been used yesterday at dinner and again at luncheon.
There might be some bread, and perhaps a little jam and butter if they were lucky, but usually they were not.
Eggs, perhaps? Not this morning, though, because Amelia knew they had none left, and she had not yet been paid.
So, they would make breakfast out of whatever they had left in the house, which was probably not much.
Were Marjory and Nancy hungry this morning? Had Marjory gone straight home—and Amelia hoped she had—or had she continued roaming the streets, looking for her?
What if something happened to Marjory?
That thought sent such a sickening jolt through Amelia’s chest that she had to pause to breathe, closing her eyes to calm herself.
“Just tea, thank you,” she managed at last.
Marjory is safe, I’m sure of it. She’s too clever to get herself into trouble. I should simply be patient and calm. All is well. All is well. All is well.
Letitia poured the tea herself, humming quietly under her breath. She seemed in high spirits, entirely unaware of Amelia’s attempt at escape last night.
The events of last night circled round and round in Amelia’s head.
The scene replayed in her mind; Stephen, naked above the waist in the water—probably naked below the waist, too—watching her with those dark, intense eyes.
The moonlight cast a shroud over the whole scene, making it seem almost like a half-remembered dream.
Perhaps it was best if it remained that way.
“If you keep trying to escape, I can’t promise to be so gentle with you next time.”
Even now, in the cool and rational light of day, his words made her shiver.
The man in question sat at the head of the table. He was reading the paper, his eyes fixed on the printed words, and his plate was sparsely filled.
Amelia’s attention was dragged back to the breakfast spread. The three of them could hardly eat half of it. What would happen to the rest? Would it be thrown away?
She shivered at the thought of perfectly good food going to waste.
Oh, well. Whatever takes my mind off Stephen and that kiss last night.
She’d worked hard to avoid thinking of that. Heat flooded her body at even the tiniest memory. She would have to avoid the lake for a little while, not that she would be permitted to go outside.
Stephen did not even glance at her once throughout breakfast. Letitia chattered on happily, talking about walks they would take—which Amelia suspected she would not be allowed to go on—and which books in the library Amelia might like.
It was clear that the old woman needed companionship, but there was something else there. A knowing glint in her eyes, perhaps? A half-suppressed smile? Amelia kept catching clues, then losing them again, unsure as to whether she was imagining it all.
Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway, and Amelia and Letitia glanced up. Stephen, of course, did not look up from the newspaper.
It was the maid from last night, Jane, the one Letitia had all but bullied into releasing Amelia. She came drifting forward, and Amelia got a proper look at her for the first time.
Jane was remarkably pretty, with delicate features and an open, friendly face.
A single red-brown ringlet peeked out from under her cap, and beneath her unflattering maid’s dress and apron, it was pretty clear that she had a willowy, petite figure.
Amelia thought of her own ungainly form and bit the inside of her cheek.
“Beg your pardon, Your Graces,” Jane breathed, her gaze going directly to Stephen. Perhaps it was Amelia’s imagination, but the maid seemed to smile a little more sweetly when she glanced at him, batting her eyelashes as if hoping he’d look up at her. “The Misses Holt have arrived.”
“Oh?” Stephen remarked, eyes still on his paper. “You’d better let them in, then. I hope you haven’t kept them waiting at the doorstep.”
“Well, yes, but there’s a bit of a problem, Your Grace.”
At long last, Stephen glanced up. Jane seemed to perk up when his gaze landed on her, but she needn’t have bothered. Stephen’s expression didn’t even falter.
“What problem?” he asked, and she seemed to deflate a little. “A large or small one?”
She winced. “It isn’t a small problem.”
At that moment, a deep bark echoed through the hall, making everybody flinch.
“A dog?” Letitia cried.
Amelia scrambled to her feet, knowing exactly what was coming next. A footman let out an anguished yelp. There was a crash, followed by an incoherent shout. Then a dog the size of a small horse came skedaddling into the breakfast room, its claws sliding across the hard floor.
He would likely have slid forward, momentum piling up behind him, and crashed into the breakfast table if Amelia had not intercepted him. They went down to the ground in a tangle of limbs and paws.
Footsteps followed, and Amelia scrambled to her feet.
“Oh, Tiny, you are a wretch,” she mumbled, seizing the dog’s floppy red-brown ears.
He stared adoringly back at her, his tongue, which seemed the size of her forearm, stretching desperately in his determination to lick her face.
“Tiny?” Stephen echoed flatly. “This dog’s name is Tiny?”
“Well, he was tiny when we first brought him home,” Amelia responded defensively, clambering to her feet.
Tiny pranced around her, shaking his head and letting out an occasional woof of joy.
He was not a long-haired dog, and in fact, his fur was so short that they had a little jacket for him to wear in the coldest months.
His bony tail was whip-thin and felt like a whip across one’s limbs.
His jowls hung low, his ears long and silken, and his eyes were the largest and brownest Amelia had ever seen on a dog.
“When he was a puppy, you mean?” Stephen muttered, hands on his hips.
He watched with heavy disapproval as Tiny cantered around the table, rushing first to greet Letitia, who patted him delightedly on his head. Then he continued his circuit, pausing only to snatch a piece of bread from Stephen’s plate, devouring it at once with a great smacking of lips.
“I’m sorry, he’s not used to visiting other houses,” Amelia managed a little lamely. “He is a little clumsy.”
That was an understatement.
Amelia scanned the room, biting her lip and hoping that the house did not contain anything too breakable.
“Hold on, young ‘uns!” a male voice cried from the hallway outside. “You can’t just go rushing in, you have to…”
There was a thump, a groan, and a scuttle of footsteps. Then Nancy barged into the room, wide-eyed, her tiny fists clenched for a fight. Her gaze fell on her sister, and relief swept over her features.
“Amelia!” she cried, flinging herself into her sister’s arms.
Amelia snatched her up, holding her tight. A knot that she had not even known was in her chest loosened.
“The man at the door wasn’t going to let us in right away,” Nancy explained, her voice muffled in Amelia’s shoulder. “Tiny rushed past him, and we tried to follow, but he stopped us. At least, he tried to stop us, but Marjory punched him in the stomach.”
As if summoned by the account of her deeds, Marjory appeared in the doorway, red-faced and disheveled but certainly determined. A pale footman hobbled after her, half-doubled over.
Amelia winced, glancing guiltily at her hosts. Stephen’s expression was deadpan and unreadable, but Letitia looked thoroughly gleeful.
“Welcome, girls, welcome,” she said, rising to her feet. “Jane, you are excused from this scene of chaos.”
Tiny gamboled back to the old woman and received head scratches, and—to his absolute rapture—a piece of bacon.
“Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?”
Marjory’s gaze fell to the breakfast spread. Her eyes widened, and Amelia could almost hear her stomach rumble.
There wasn’t much for breakfast, then. They are hungry.
“We are not here for breakfast,” Nancy informed them sternly. “We are here to take Amelia home. Amelia, you should have taken Tiny with you yesterday. He would have protected you.”
“Are you sure?” Stephen drawled, arching an eyebrow at the dog, who panted happily up at him. “I think he wishes to be my dearest friend, despite his enormous size.”
Nancy’s eyes flashed.
Amelia anticipated her dart forward, snatching her up. Nancy struggled in her arms, desperate to get down. Amelia hung on grimly. There was no telling whether Nancy would try to copy Marjory’s attack on the footman. Best not to risk it.
“No, he would defend her. He would, he would!” Nancy insisted, giving up on her attempt to free herself. “He’s the best dog in the world.”
“Hear, hear,” Letitia agreed. “It’s been so long since we had a dog around the place. I wonder how your cat will react to him, Stephen.”
“That creature is not my cat. He simply followed me home,” Stephen retorted. “You, Miss Spectacles. Sit down, eat. Have you had breakfast?”
Marjory’s face heated. She shoved the spectacles in question further up her nose. “Why, yes,” she responded tightly. “I am not hungry at all.”
Ah, this was posturing, Amelia could tell. She could almost hear her sister’s stomach rumbling.
Nancy, who had no ounce of pride, wrinkled her nose at her sister. “But you must be hungry, Marjory. We only had a bit of bread for breakfast, and you let me have more because I needed it to grow up, as you said.”
Marjory scowled at her. Nancy stuck out her tongue.
“Girls, please,” Amelia interjected tightly, offering a nervous smile to Stephen and Letitia.
“Well, at any rate, we don’t have time for breakfast,” Marjory said, rallying. “We are here to collect you, Amelia, and then we shall leave. We shall leave immediately.”
“Oh, yes,” Nancy piped up. “We’re here to save Amelia from the monster. Marjory told me all about it.”
A tense silence settled over the room. There was, of course, no question of who the monster might be.
Swallowing, Amelia risked a nervous glance at Stephen. As always, his expression was smooth and serene, giving nothing away.
Letitia was pouring herself another cup of coffee and gave no indication of having heard Nancy’s comment. It seemed too much to hope that she had not heard it at all, but if she wasn’t going to remark on it, that was good enough.
He won’t let me go, Amelia reminded herself. Three months. If the girls could stay here with me… well, we would lose our home, but we would stay together. We would have food and shelter better than what we are used to. Besides, there’s no sense in frightening them, is there?
Clearing her throat, Amelia averted her gaze from Stephen’s cool stare. She met Marjory’s eyes first and gave her a warning look, then glanced down at Nancy.
“It was all a misunderstanding, Nancy. There’s no monster.”
“Yes, there is,” Nancy insisted, frowning. She freed her arm, pointing at Stephen. “Marjory said that he had kidnapped you.”
Amelia sucked in a breath.
Marjory scanned the room with a determined, worried gaze. Amelia could only hope that she was not looking for a weapon. Letitia sipped her coffee thoughtfully, and Stephen settled back in his seat, casually crossing one leg over the other.
Tiny trotted back over, intending to nose at Stephen’s plate for food. He was firmly pushed away and settled by placing his heavy head on the man’s thigh, staring soulfully up at him with the wistful adoration that only a hungry dog can conjure.
Well, a dog that imagined itself hungry, at any rate.
Stephen ignored him with a steely determination.
“Actually, girls, I have some news,” Amelia managed at last, tossing back her hair. She could feel Stephen’s gaze boring into her back. He was watching her with that unblinking stare, and it burrowed into her skin like an itch. “His Grace has offered me a position.”
“A position?” Nancy echoed at the same time Marjory said, “A paid position?”
Amelia decided to ignore Marjory’s question. Carefully setting Nancy down on her feet, she patted her sister’s cheek reassuringly.
“I’m going to stay here for three months and take care of His Grace’s grandmother. I will be her companion.”
Nancy seemed unconvinced. “What does a companion do?”
“I’ll spend time with Her Grace. I’m going to help her with sewing and fit her for new dresses. She’s very entertaining company.”
“It’s true.” Letitia nodded. “I am. And you, ladies, are more than welcome to join us. I imagine your sister would feel more at ease if you were here. When she receives her wages—”
“Wages?” Stephen interrupted.
His grandmother gave him a wry smile. “But of course, wages. Three months of work must be rewarded. And companions are handsomely paid.”
“I imagine so,” Stephen muttered, trying and failing to push Tiny’s heavy head off his knee. He gave up almost at once, and the dog leaned more heavily into him with a sigh of contentment.
Amelia cleared her throat, meeting Marjory’s eyes first and then Nancy’s. “So you see, there’s no monster at all. The plain fact is that His Grace is offering me a fine opportunity, and we ought to be happy about it.”
Nancy blinked, clearly surprised by this turn of events. However, she was only nine years old, and a nine-year-old girl was more than happy to believe what she was told. Shrugging, she lost interest, turning to inspect the breakfast spread.
Marjory was not so easily convinced. She stared at her sister, her eyes narrowing. “Amelia?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
Amelia moved to stand beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “All is well,” she whispered back, nodding reassuringly. “Please, I don’t want you to worry. I’m safe, and three months of work… well, being Her Grace’s companion will hardly be work.”
Marjory worried her lower lip. “Are… are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” Amelia responded firmly. “Come, let’s sit down and eat some breakfast.”
Marjory glanced at the food again, this time with longing.
“Are you fond of scones?” Letitia asked cheerfully. “There is cream and jam. Perhaps some cake? Or if you prefer something savory, then there is bacon, eggs, toast…”
“I could eat some bacon,” Marjory mumbled, and took a half step toward the table.
Amelia breathed out, glancing over at Stephen’s impassive face.
“But first, Marjory,” she murmured, taking her sister’s elbow. “I think you ought to apologize to His Grace.”