Chapter Ten #3
Amelia sat at the end of a dining room table that could host twelve people. The earl sat on the opposite side, at the head of the table, with his daughter beside him. Christine sent Amelia a triumphant look, as if she’d planned it this way.
No, more likely it was Mrs. Menford, the housekeeper, who had placed the pair of them so far apart, her husband would need an ear trumpet to hear her.
This wouldn’t do at all.
Amelia picked up her silver and marched to the end where Lord Castledon sat. She took a place at his right and feigned ignorance. “I hope you don’t mind my joining you. It was lonely at the far end with only a pepper pot to speak to.”
Fortunately, the earl nodded, not seeming to care where she sat. But Christine kicked Amelia beneath the table, so her father wouldn’t see.
“Ouch!” Amelia said, rubbing at her shin. She sent an incredulous look toward the young girl, who was ignoring her.
“Are you all right?” David asked.
She was tempted to tell him what his daughter had done, but that would only make the girl into a stronger enemy. Instead she said, “Yes. I bumped my leg by accident.”
Christine appeared confused, as if she’d expected Amelia to rail at her. But Amelia had three sisters and knew that the girl was trying to provoke a fight to gain her father’s attention. She stared at her stepdaughter as if to say, I know what you did, and it won’t work with me.
But David was not oblivious to his daughter’s behavior. His gaze narrowed upon Christine. “Did you kick Amelia under the table?”
“I didn’t!” she insisted. “I was only stretching my legs. She must have bumped into me.” The young girl put on an expression of false innocence. “Papa, I promise you, I would never kick anyone.”
He eyed Amelia. “Were you attacked by the table leg?”
She bit her lip. “I can’t say for certain. It may have been an imaginary dog who kicked me. Or perhaps a ghost?”
“Or a ghost dog,” David said drily. He seemed aware of her tactic and turned back to his daughter. “I don’t believe your mother would have approved of lies, Christine.”
“I didn’t lie,” she said weakly. She held her father’s gaze without blinking, for nearly a minute. “Don’t you believe me?”
Soon, her eyes welled up, and he let out a sigh. “Christine, I know what you did. Apologize to Amelia at once.”
The girl glared at her. “I apologize for my leg accidentally hitting yours.”
It was no accident at all, but Amelia forced herself to remain serene. “I accept your apology. Accidents do happen.” Though not in this instance.
The first course arrived, and instead of a rich soup, there was a bowl of salty chicken broth. Amelia took one sip and decided not to risk any more. The earl and his daughter didn’t seem to notice. Both finished the broth while talking about a book Christine had read recently.
The rest of the meal was lacking as well. The meat—which Amelia thought was supposed to be beef—was brown and listless. The vegetables were limp, and she could mash them with her fork.
What startled Amelia most of all was how the earl and Christine were utterly unaware of how terrible the food was.
“How is your food?” she asked, wondering if theirs was as bad. The earl shrugged, and Christine nodded as if to say it was fine. Amelia took a sip of wine and tried to think of how she could solve this debacle. Mrs. Larson would die if she saw this mess.
A flash of inspiration caught her, for the housekeeper could undoubtedly transform this household in a matter of days. Mrs. Larson would know which servants were hard workers and which ones needed to be better trained or replaced.
The thought of seeing her mother’s housekeeper was a hope that flared inside her, along with a touch of homesickness. She decided to write to Beatrice and ask if Mrs. Larson could pay a visit, spending a few weeks helping her to sort out the household.
When her plate was taken away, she’d hardly touched any of it, but at least now she had a practical solution. Mrs. Larson was brash and bold and wouldn’t hesitate to go after anyone who was disobedient.
Now that she had one problem solved, she had another to manage. When she studied Christine, Amelia saw that the girl’s sleeves were well above her wrists. Her gown was better suited to a six-year-old than an eleven-year-old.
“Christine, I plan to visit the village in the morning. Would you like to come with me and we could go shopping?” It might give them a chance to be better acquainted without Lord Castledon. And if the girl needed new clothing, she could help choose the fabric.
“I—I planned to spend the day with Papa.” There was confusion on her face, as if she hadn’t expected to be asked.
“He can come along, if he wants to.” Amelia shot him a knowing look. “He might want to pick out a new bonnet for himself.”
The earl sent her a pointed look. “I’ll let you pick out one for me,” he remarked. “With ribbons and lace, if you please. Purple lace.”
The sudden look in his eyes reminded Amelia of the sketch she’d drawn, of the purple lace chemise. Had he seen that? From the faint smile on his lips, she suspected he had.
Amelia swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away. “I’ll see what I can find.”
The young girl appeared unaware of their hidden exchange. “No, I don’t want to go with you.”
“Christine, it will be good fun, you’ll see. If you need any new clothes, we’ll have you measured.” Amelia tried to make it sound much more interesting, but her stepdaughter’s expression didn’t change at all.
“Mrs. Menford can take me shopping. I needn’t go anywhere with you.”
Before the earl could intervene, Amelia stopped him with a hand. “No, it’s all right. I’ll go on my own, and if Christine changes her mind, she can join me.”
Instead of appearing relieved, the girl stared down at her plate.
“No, she’s going to go with you.” Lord Castledon eyed his daughter with a steely look. “And she’s going to make an effort to get better acquainted. You are her stepmother now.”
Christine rolled her eyes and let out a heavy breath, as if her father had ordered her to spend all day scrubbing the floors. “Yes, Papa.”
Amelia decided that she needed to intervene before this became a punishment instead of a way to mend their differences. “What do you like to do when you’re alone, Christine?”
The girl shrugged and said nothing.
“Christine likes to draw,” the earl said. “She’s also quite good at watercolors.”
But the girl grimaced, as if she didn’t care for it at all.
Earlier, Amelia had gone to ask Christine a question about the gardens, and when she’d gone inside the nursery, she’d spied towers of books and bits of paper with scribbled stories.
Whether or not the girl enjoyed writing, Amelia thought of a different surprise the young girl might enjoy—a writing space of her own with an assortment of pens, ink, and paper.
Perhaps a space in the attic where she could look out over the grounds.
It was something to think about.
After a time, the earl sent Christine away for bed, leaving them alone. Amelia toyed with her fork, and in time, his leg brushed hers.
“Don’t kick me,” she said, smiling at him.
“My leg twitched of its own accord.” But his wry expression said that he knew exactly what he’d been doing. David stood and offered his arm to lead her from the dining room table.
“Christine craves your attention,” Amelia told him. “She’s afraid you’ll go off and leave her again.”
“My duties in the House of Lords do require me to be away. And I have to keep a close eye on the estates to ensure that they are cared for.”
“Are you planning to leave soon?”
He nodded. “I often travel during the summer, spending a few weeks at each of the estates.”
Amelia had a bad feeling about this, particularly since the household staff didn’t appear willing to obey her orders. “Will we be going with you?”
“No. There’s no reason for you to accompany me. The pair of you can stay here, and I’ll return in the autumn.”
Her spirits deflated at the thought of being trapped here with a stepdaughter and servants who despised her. “Then you only stay at Castledon during the autumn and winter.”
“Yes. The rest of the year, I have to attend my other duties.”
No wonder his daughter felt abandoned. If she’d been raised by a governess and servants, then the last thing she’d want was a stranger telling her what to do.
She mulled over an idea, realizing that the best way to recruit Christine as an ally was to work toward a common cause—asking Lord Castledon to remain here or allowing them to go with him.
The earl had grown quiet, and he led her to walk near the window. The trees had turned into black silhouettes against an amber sunset, foretelling the promise of night.
“I would like you to stay a little longer,” Amelia said at last. “Until we’re settled here, if that’s not too much to ask.”
“For a time.” Keeping his gaze fixed upon the window, he added, “I’m sorry it’s been so difficult for you, since you’ve arrived here. I’m not precisely the dangerous, delicious rake you wanted.”
She reached to take his hand in hers. “Sometimes you are,” she murmured.
His eyes flared up, and he stared at her with undisguised yearning. She brought both of his hands around her waist, hoping to tempt him. “And you did save me from being wedded to a scoundrel. That’s rather heroic.”
“It might have been a rescue, but I’m not—”
She cut him off by touching a finger to his lips. “You weren’t the man I wanted then. But you’re the man I want now.”
His hands moved up her rib cage. Then he leaned in close and rested his nose against hers. His breath warmed her cheeks, and anticipation filled up inside her. But this time when he touched his mouth to hers, the light kiss was there and gone. Amelia could hardly imagine that it had happened.
“You’re not betraying Katherine by touching me,” she whispered, holding him close. She wanted another night with him, here in this place where so many ghosts of the past haunted him.
“It is a betrayal,” he contradicted. “Especially when your kiss is better than those I shared with Katherine.”
With that, he left her standing alone.