Chapter Twenty-One
Hugh marched Amelia to his study. His blood still sang from that kiss—what a kiss—with Christiana, but his pride smarted not a little at how easily she had gone from kissing him back to looking totally unaffected.
Next time—and now that it had happened once, there would most certainly be a next time—he would do a better job.
He shut the door behind him. Amelia had paled somewhat, but she kept her chin raised as she looked at him.
“I understand you may not like my methods, Hugh, but—”
“You are never to do that again.” He layered the words with all the authority and menace he had at his disposal. “Do you understand me?”
“You wouldn’t so much as talk to her, Hugh.”
“My relationship with Christiana is none of your concern. The only thing you should be thinking about is your Season next year and how you might not offend everyone in your vicinity.”
To his surprise, she gave a little laugh. “Is that what you’re afraid of, Hugh? That I’ll frighten away potential suitors with my sharp tongue and unladylike determination?”
Yes. That was precisely what he feared. Gentlemen liked to pretend that they feared nothing.
But so many, he knew from experience, feared women they were unable to predict or control.
Amelia had her own mind—rather a lot of it—and no hesitation to make bad choices to see her particular goals through.
She wanted him to fall in love with Chris. And she had taken several dubious actions to achieve her goals.
“You should turn your attention closer to home,” Amelia said, the lash in her voice so reminiscent of their mother that he turned.
“Do you know what you have, Hugh? You have a wife who has never been chosen before. Can you not see it? I don’t know the particulars of her life with her father, but it sounds dreadful.
She lives in the library like she can lose herself in those awful books, and she looks at you as though you were another equation she would like to solve.
” When he didn’t move, she sighed. “She likes you, my darling obtuse brother. Whatever you may think about yourself, she utterly disagrees. You ought to have seen her face when I told her you don’t believe you are one of the best men to have ever lived.
And that was the first night she arrived here.
So tell me, what are you going to do about it? ”
When her spirits were ruffled, Christiana found solace in work. At her father’s house, that had been poring over accounts, attempting to stretch a miserly income as far as it might go.
Here and now, she retired to the library.
Her lips still buzzed.
He wanted to see her naked. One could only assume, after such a confession, that he was not repulsed by her.
She rested the book on her lap and considered what she might do about this turn of events. He wanted her. Wanted to do something more with her, even. What that entailed, she had no idea. And she would like to find out, but she could not imagine casually requesting that Hugh kiss her.
There had to be another option.
Laura would know.
Christiana dipped her pen in the ink and replied to her friend’s letter, inviting her—sans her new husband—to visit. Then, with thoughts about household improvements and future planning and clearing the cloud hanging over the household itself, Christiana sought out Amelia in the drawing room.
For her to be able to dismiss Mrs. Partridge and Penwick, she would need a means of finding a replacement. And she had just the idea.
Amelia sat by the pianoforte in the corner of the room, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight and, by the looks of it, entirely unrepentant.
Hugh was not as scary as he believed himself to be.
Miss Byrd sat in an armchair, her spine impressively straight and her gray hair tucked severely in a bun at the back of her head.
She looked to be in her mid-fifties, perhaps, with deep lines across her forehead and from her nose to the corners of her mouth.
She was embroidering a screen while listening to the merry tune coming from the pianoforte and bobbing her head.
The effect, unfortunately, made her look a little like a pigeon.
“You see?” she said when Amelia finished. “You do so well when you just apply yourself.”
Amelia heaved a sigh. “But reading is far more enjoyable. I detest practicing.”
“You will get no better if you don’t practice.”
“I don’t need to get better,” Amelia said. “I am perfectly good enough as it is. Oh, Chris, how do you do?”
Miss Byrd blinked rapidly in Christiana’s direction. “Your Grace. I didn’t see you there. What did you think of Lady Amelia’s playing just now?”
“Very pretty,” Christiana said, wondering how she might get rid of the officious woman without overtly seeming to. Then she abandoned the endeavor. “Amelia, might I speak with you for a moment?”
“Oh, please do.” Amelia immediately rose from the stool at the pianoforte, closing the lid with a tuneless clang. “Unless it’s to scold me, in which case then I am exceedingly busy.”
Christiana bit back a smile. “It’s not to scold you.”
“Then I am all ears. Which, if you think about it, is a very odd expression. Rather alarming, too. If someone is all ears, it only follows they have no eyes or nose. Or any other feature, really.” She yawned and threw herself on the sofa.
“Miss Byrd, I expect Her Grace wishes to speak with me privately,” she said, directing her words at the stern woman. “Do take yourself away.”
“Amelia,” Christiana said, attempting to sound stern. “You should be more polite.”
“It’s of no consequence, Your Grace.” Miss Byrd lifted her red, pointed nose into the air with a rather impressive sniff. “I know when I am not wanted.” With that, she cast down her sewing and attempted to storm from the room, but the effect was marred when her sleeve caught on the doorknob.
“Don’t laugh,” Christiana warned Amelia. “It’s not nice of you to antagonize her. You know Hugh is fond of her.”
“Only because he is not obliged to spend all day with her. And whenever they do speak, she immediately agrees with everything he says. I think he is perfectly capable of being wrong, but she worships the ground he stands on and thinks I am the devil’s spawn.
” She rolled onto her front. “Anyway, didn’t you have something you wished to speak to me about? ”
“I need your help,” Christiana admitted. “Although I hesitate to ask you after your stunt earlier.”
“Oh, yes, Hugh informed me that you are both able to resolve your differences without interference.” Amelia rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“But I know him, and he would have just avoided you until he thought himself to have mastered his temper. By which point, the original offense is almost always forgotten. I merely hastened things along a bit. Did it work?”
She looked so hopeful, Christiana was forced to give in. “Yes, but that’s not the point.”
“It seems like it should be.” Amelia grinned. “No matter. Save the details; I wouldn’t want to know them regardless. Now, what else do you need my assistance with?”
Christiana walked to a corner of the room, where an easel had been set up, a cloth thrown over the painting. She removed the cloth to reveal a rather pretty watercolor of a young lady standing beneath an archway draped in flowers. “You often paint portraits,” she said.
“Where possible. This is of my friend Lady Juliana. I sketched it while in Bath and completed it here.”
Christiana surveyed the painting with an analytical eye. Amelia truly was an accomplished artist. “Do you think you could paint a portrait of Hugh without his mask?”
Amelia came to stand beside her. “He refuses to have any portraits painted of him.”
“He wouldn’t know, and it wouldn’t be for display. But if I’m to dismiss Mrs. Partridge and Penwick, then I must have a replacement.”
Amelia’s eyes went round. “You intend to dismiss them?”
“I do.”
“Good. It’s about time.”
“Do you think you can do it? How long will you need?”
“If I’m diligent and commit most of my time to it, then perhaps a week. It will not be especially large, but for close quarters, that should be fine.” Amelia held up a finger. “But we must never tell Hugh of this.”
“As mistress of this house, it is my responsibility to hire new servants. I’ll oversee all the arrangements.
” This, at least, she had experience with.
With her father’s fluctuating finances and luck, she had consistently sourced and let go members of staff.
And, given her father’s local reputation, she had often had to source said members of staff from further afield.
“Hugh won’t discover my means, and if he does, then I will take full credit. The ideas were all mine.”
Amelia nodded slowly, chewing her lip. “It’s an ingenious way of ensuring anyone who enters the house is prepared in advance.”
“In an ideal world, this would be unnecessary, but we do not live in an ideal world.” Christiana frowned as she pondered what to do next. “Really, I want to begin integrating him into the community more. But how best to do it?”
“There’s a local carnival in a couple of weeks,” Amelia said.
“It’s an annual occasion—Hugh never lets me go, but I’ve heard it’s a truly splendid sight.
Fire-breathers and tightrope walkers and the like, and I think perhaps even a tame bear!
” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to attend. Do say you’ll convince him to go.”
“I’ll do my best.” Christiana considered the matter.
The prospect of a carnival with the crowds and noise was distinctly unappealing, but it would be the perfect opportunity for the local people to get to know him.
Particularly if some of the tenants were there—Christiana had seen first-hand that they liked and respected him.
That would be a start.
They knew him as a monster; she would make them see him as a man.
And then, perhaps, he would come to see himself as one too.