Chapter 15
“Oh, heavens, I quite forgot!” Letitia exclaimed during the carriage ride home. “I have to call on Mrs. Timmons. She’ll never forgive me if she knows I was out and about and didn’t visit her. She’ll also never forgive me if she hears of my return to town from someone else.”
Apart from that remark, the carriage ride home had been very quiet. Amelia had spent the time staring at her scruffy boots, holding a box on her lap which contained a pair of bright, shiny, new brown boots. They were proper ladies’ boots, with a little heel and buttons on the side.
Letitia had pushed her to buy a pair of stunning yellow ones in faux crocodile skin, with much higher heels. Amelia had declined, pointing out that she’d never walk in them.
How much money had been spent today? After a while, Amelia had given up thinking of the cost. Letitia ordered enough fabric for five or six dresses of her own, as well as several gowns for Marjory and Nancy.
They bought ribbons, buttons, gloves, a hat each—including a rather feathery yellow silk bonnet that Amelia would not have bought for herself but had to admit suited her rather well—shoes, coats, and more.
And then there were Amelia’s gowns. The emerald fabric was the most expensive thing they had bought, true, but Letitia refused to let her choose from amongst the cheap muslins.
After the sum climbed past twenty pounds, Amelia could no longer allow herself to think about it. Neither Stephen nor Letitia seemed concerned about the hideous bill hanging over her head.
Stephen sat alone on the opposite seat, having forthrightly refused to share his space with any bags or boxes.
His legs were too long to fit neatly into the rectangular space between the seats, forcing him to sit at an angle.
He stared studiously out the window, his face smooth and impassive, and did not glance at either of them.
“You plan to go out after we return home, Grandmother? In this weather?”
He gestured to the carriage window and the raindrops sluicing down the glass.
Amelia had no idea when it started raining. All she knew was that when she entered Emmeline’s shop, it was overcast, and when they left, weighed down with bags and boxes, it was raining. Everything was gray—sky, rain, earth.
“I was rather hoping you could drop me off on the way. I might have already mentioned it to the coachman. You don’t mind my leaving you to settle in alone, do you, Amelia?”
Amelia did mind. She did not like the idea of stepping into a new and imposing house without an ally by her side.
“I could come with you,” she suggested. “As your companion.”
Letitia smiled fondly at her, patting her hand. “Very kind of you to offer, my dear. But no. Mrs. T. and I will have all kinds of private things to discuss. I insist that you go home and settle in, and perhaps try on some of your new things?”
That was that, then.
Amelia smiled faintly and spent the rest of the journey avoiding Stephen’s gaze. Not a small feat in such a small space.
Once they had stopped outside a grand-looking townhouse and Letitia had alighted, however, the atmosphere in the carriage shifted slightly.
Stephen stretched out his legs toward the seat Letitia had occupied, and Amelia leaned toward the window. The silence was heavier this time, and his presence seemed larger somehow.
To her amazement, Stephen was the one who broke the silence first.
“Why did you insist on telling that woman that you would be back?”
She blinked, glancing warily at him. “What?”
He tore his gaze from the window and fixed it on her. “You heard me perfectly well, I think. I told her you would no longer be working for her, and you hastened to assure her you were coming back. You contradicted me.”
Amelia pressed her lips together. “And that is what angers you, is it? My contradicting you?”
He lifted a lazy eyebrow. “Do I appear angry?”
“I may not have much experience with men, but I know that they can hide their anger until it is too late.”
He was silent for a moment. “And is that how the old Viscount was?”
“What? No, not at all. If he had a temper, we certainly never saw it. He never raised his voice to any of us. He certainly never raised a hand. I did not know him too well, but he struck me as a mild-mannered man.”
Stephen grunted. “And so he was. His son is made of different mettle.”
At the mention of her brother, Amelia’s hands curled into fists. She heard the old leather of her gloves creak around her knuckles.
The new gloves won’t come a moment too soon, I suppose.
Not for the first time, she prayed that there would be no reckoning for the money spent today. If Letitia or even Stephen were to present her with a bill for the things they had bought for her and the girls, she would never be able to repay it.
But Letitia had assured her that they were presents, and Stephen hadn’t even blinked an eye at the bill, casually promising that his steward would settle it soon. Perhaps the cold fear of spending so much money would fade soon.
What could we have done with that money? Paid our rent for months in advance. Painted the front of the house, which is an eyesore. Paid our grocery bill. Paid the butcher.
But then, she reminded herself, it was not her money. Stephen could do what he liked, and it was really none of her concern. None of her concern.
“Do you miss your father?”
The question caught her by surprise.
Amelia’s gaze flew up, and she found him staring at her, his eyebrows shadowing his eyes. He had shifted his position and was now turned more toward her than before.
“Do you miss yours?” she countered, before she could stop herself.
Stephen blinked rapidly, as if she’d aimed a blow at him. For a moment, anger crossed his face, and she worried that he was about to snap at her. Instead, he simply said, “Yes.”
Just that. Just yes. Now it was time for her response.
“I do not miss my father,” she confessed.
“I liked him well enough, but his visits weren’t as frequent as I would have liked.
I think that, at the heart of it all, he was a good man, and I believe that he loved us.
But any man who has a second family cannot be an entirely good person, surely?
We are suffering because of him. My mother missed him so very much, and I believe his death and our treatment afterward contributed to her decline.
I miss Mama very much, indeed. I adored her, as we all did.
But then, what family does not encounter tragedy? I suppose it was simply our turn.”
“Your turn?” he echoed thoughtfully. “Tragedies are inevitable, then?”
“Of course. After all, every story ends exactly the same way throughout history. All good things come to an end.”
He inclined his head in agreement. “Perhaps you are right.”
Was that it? Was that the end of the conversation?
He glanced away, seeming to lose interest, and an itch started up inside her. She wanted him to look at her. For heaven’s sake, if the man couldn’t pay attention to her in the confines of a carriage with nothing else to do, then the next few months were going to drag.
“I appreciate what you did for me today,” she burst out. “At the modiste’s, that is, but it wasn’t necessary.”
He glanced back at her, his eyes flickering. She thought she caught a flash of surprise before it was gone, tucked behind his usual wall of cool, calculating composure.
How long had he worked on that wall? How thick was it?
What made him hide his feelings with such determination? What on earth happened to him? Surely a duke must have led a charmed life. And yet…
“Not necessary? To what are you referring? To the dresses my grandmother insisted on buying for you, or the words I exchanged with your thoroughly unpleasant employer?”
Amelia flushed. “You did not have to be so unkind to Emmeline.”
“Did I? From where I stood, she treated you with contempt and even disdain. She scolded you in the middle of the shop as if you were a servant.”
“She has her flaws, but she is a decent woman,” Amelia insisted. “She can be kind.”
“Can she?”
“Yes, she can. She gives Marjory bits and pieces of work here and there, including running errands and taking deliveries to grand houses.”
“That is not kindness. That is paying a person for services rendered.”
“She let me take back pieces of fabric and such for the girls. It was invaluable when they needed new clothes.”
“Oh, heavens. She let you take pieces of material that could not be sold? The woman is the pinnacle of generosity.”
Amelia growled. “You are not listening. She is not the finest employer in the world, to be sure, but I could be in a much worse situation.”
“One could always be in a worse situation,” he retorted. “That means nothing. By that logic, there is one person in the entire world who is in the worst situation of all. Are none of us to feel sorry for ourselves, then, on account of the plain fact that it could always be worse?”
“Are you much inclined to feeling sorry for yourself?”
“Do you think that I am inclined to such a thing?”
Amelia pursed her lips, watching him. He was truly the most infuriating man she had ever met.
“You always have an answer to everything, don’t you?” she huffed.
His mouth twitched in amusement. “Why, yes. I do. Thank you for noticing.”
At some point, she had begun to lean forward and suddenly felt the absence of support at her back when the carriage ran over a pothole. It jolted her back with a thump.
Why had she leaned forward? Was the man drawing her in with some wretched magnetism or something equally ridiculous?