CHAPTER SEVEN #2
Is he disinterested Amelia thought, biting back a triumphant smile.
But then Cassandra’s focus narrowed on another man who stood near the garden’s fountain, surrounded by a group of ladies who clearly were rapt with attention.
“Is that Lord Ambrose Spencer?” Amelia asked, pointing out the young man.
Eleanor nodded. “He and I danced during my last Season. He is ever so graceful, and very desired. He is also known as the most famous rake of the ton.”
“How come he did not secure a match?”
“I am uncertain,” Eleanor confessed. “I think it was simply a case of other more affluent gentlemen beating him to it. He does not seem short of options now though.”
Amelia nodded, her focus returning to Cassandra, whose head was bent close to Beatrice as the two whispered to one another, looking back at Lord Ambrose.
Perhaps she will turn her attention to him, Amelia thought. I cannot endure much more of her sickly sweet veiled insults.
Soon, servants began to gather, silently signifying that it was time to serve the guests, and that they ought to take their seats at the decorated tea tables set up.
Guided to their seats by more servants, Amelia was panicked to find Eleanor being pulled from her to sit two chairs down, but was relieved to know that Bernadette sat down next to her, in between the two girls.
A shadow fell over Amelia, and she smiled, hoping that she was lucky enough to sit next to the Duke of Blackthorn once again. Lifting her gaze, her relief at being seated near her mother was short-lived when she looked up into the face of Lord Ambrose.
Her mouth went dry as he looked down at her, a grin on his face.
“Miss Hawthorne.” He bowed in greeting to her, and she curtsied, anxiety creeping through her. After the scandal sheet, being placed next to the ton’s most notorious rake was not what she needed, but she took her seat nonetheless.
“Lord Ambrose,” she murmured back as they both sat down.
More voices joined their tale. The Duke of Blackthorn sat opposite her, between his own mother, and Cassandra, who faced Lord Ambrose.
Beyond the dowager duchess, Lady Daphne sat alongside her mother, with the other parents filling in the gaps.
Lord Percival sat further down on the edge of the table, watching them all with keen eyes.
Amelia did not like his presence one bit but turned her focus to His Grace, shyly meeting his eyes from across the table.
There was a curl of warmth snaking through her stomach, grounding her in beneath his attention.
But when she turned back to focus on whatever tale Lord Kensington had continued telling, she found Lord Ambrose’s attention on her.
Her breath caught, more from being startled, rather than the intensity of his blue eyes.
Blue, not the darkest of browns, like the duke’s.
“I must say, Miss Hawthorne, that you have been written to be described as plain but I find that you are not quite as bad on the eyes as they say,” Lord Ambrose told her, and for a moment, all Amelia could do was blink.
Bernadette leaned forward. “Lord Ambrose! I beseech you to hold your tongue and not speak to my daughter in such ways.” But the damage was already done. Cassandra sniggered under her breath and Lord Ambrose looked confused.
“Forgive me, Lady Hawthorne, for I did mean it as a compliment.”
Amelia’s mother only hummed at him, narrowing her eyes.
Moments later, as tea and cakes began to be served, Lord Ambrose leaned in. “I did mean it as a compliment, Miss Hawthorne. My words may be clumsy but should you ever find yourself at my father’s residence, I can assure you that our time together shall not be.”
It took Amelia a moment to understand the flirtatious meaning beneath his words, and when the meaning took root in her, she flushed deeply, uncomfortable.
“A kind offer, I am sure,” she said politely, laughing nervously as she leaned back towards her mother.
***
Graham could not help but watch as Miss Hawthorne was spoken to by Lord Ambrose.
He had heard the rake’s insult, and he was angered by the carelessness.
Miss Hawthorne should have never been written about in the first place, let alone called plain, and to have even brought up the gossip column was, in itself, an insult.
But Graham found himself on gripping the edge of the table tightly, unable to intervene lest he add more fuel to the fire of rumors.
He watched from afar as Lord Ambrose said something else, sending a pink blush spreading over Miss Hawthorne’s cheeks.
“Is the tea to your liking, Your Grace?”
The voice that pulled his attention away belonged to Lady Cassandra, the very bane of his existence that day.
He had already made his decision before her behaviour in Hyde Park.
However, as he and Owen rode away, he heard the tone in which she spoke to Miss Hawthorne, even if he couldn’t make out the exact words.
And now she had her sights on him, looking pleased at the table arrangement as if she herself had picked it. Perhaps she had.
“It is fine,” he answered shortly. After a moment, he added, “thank you.”
“It is no problem at all,” Cassandra said. “See, I heard some stories that you are rather fond of European beverages, and this is the finest tea in all of Europe. I had my father import it especially for today’s occasion.”
He flinched at that, at the way she preened as though expecting further gratitude. Graham nodded, sipping the tea in the hopes of pleasing her to content quietness.
“It is very nice, indeed. Your father chose well.”
Her face flickered at that, and his attention returned to Miss Hawthorne. Cassandra began again, spotting where his attention went to.
“I do realise that you are suddenly attending more events,” she spoke up. “I do wonder why. Is there something drawing you back into the ton’s circles? Have you realised that these events hold something you have missed out during your isolation?”
Graham tried not to flinch again. “No, nothing has particularly caught my eye.”
And yet you are looking right at the very girl that has, he told himself.
For a moment, Lady Cassandra looked startled at his words but quickly composed herself. “I see. Well, regardless, I am happy that you have shown up for today’s tea party.”
He hummed distractedly but he could only try to focus on what Lord Ambrose might have been saying to Amelia to make her cringe back so hard.
Did nobody else notice it? Movement at the other end of the table caught his eye, and his focus turned to Percival, who looked at Miss Hawthorne and Lord Ambrose, and then back to Graham. He flashed a secretive smile.
Food was eaten, and tea was drunk and enjoyed, and no matter how much Graham avoided Lady Cassandra, she insisted on finding more things to ask him that he deflected as well as he could. Eventually, Lady Kensington stood to her feet and clapped once to gain attention.
“I do hope you have enjoyed your refreshments,” she said, addressing everybody.
“Please feel free to stroll around the gardens, as we have several games of shuttlecock and battledore set up. There is also the hedge maze that is available to wander, but should you happen to lose your way within, merely call out, and we shall dispatch one of our servants to fetch you.”
She gave a small laugh as if she already anticipated at least one person getting lost.
Lady Cassandra began to turn to Graham, likely to enquire his whereabouts for the remainder of the party but he was on his feet before she could open her mouth, avoiding her quickly. Getting lost in the hedge maze sounded perfect.