Amelia immediately turned to Christiana, her outrage dissolving into such a sweet smile, Christiana was temporarily speechless. “I amsosorry,” she said. “I quite neglected my manners—please forgive me. I think it isdarlingthat Hugh has finally found a wife, and I hope we can be friends.”
“Amelia,” the duke said. “Meet Christiana. Chris, this termagant is my sister, Amelia.”
Amelia dipped into a pretty curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The duke was correct—Amelia would not have any difficulty navigating London Society so long as she held her tongue. “The pleasure is mine,” Christiana said. “Please, call me Chris.”
“Then you must call me Amelia.” Her smile, near blinding in its intensity, bloomed before she turned back to the duke. That smile dropped, replaced with a glare. “How could you not tell me what you intended, Hugh?”
“Because the matter of my marriage is none of your business,” he said, flicking his fingers to the side, where a stout lady emerged from a side door to greet them. “Chris, this is Mrs. Partridge, the housekeeper. Mrs. Partridge, allow me the honor of introducing my wife.”
Christiana inclined her head, and Mrs. Partridge sank into a curtsy barely deep enough to avoid scrutiny. Over the years, Christiana had been the receiver of many slights; she had been snubbed enough to recognize dislike when it was displayed so obviously.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Partridge said, her voice flat. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“I look forward to working together,” Christiana said, hoping her lie wasn’t as obvious as Mrs. Partridge’s. At her father’s house, there had often as not been very few servants for her to manage—and they had all looked at her with respect.
Here, the challenge would be taking over the helm from two servants who clearly resented her presence. Getting along with one’s servants was the easiest way to a simple life, but it was also not as easy to achieve.
After a few more pleasantries, Mrs. Partridge left, and Amelia grimaced. “I don’t envy you. She’ll be a thorn in your side, make no mistake.”
The duke sighed. “Can we perhaps feign positivity for at least one day, Lia? Mrs. Partridge has served us for a long time.”
“And all that time, she has been a menace to the household. I’ll never forget the way she scolded me for accidentally upsetting her basket of linens.” Amelia winked at Christiana. “But I’m certain you’ll be able to put her in her place. Come, let’s retire to the drawing room so we can sit, and then we can talk comfortably. There’s so much to ask. For instance, how did the marriage come about? You must tell me everything—how did you meet Hugh and what was the wedding like? Were there any influential members of thetonthere?”
“Perhaps give Chris a chance to breathe,” the duke said dryly. “Our arrangement is one of mutual convenience.” He sent Christiana a warning glance, but there was no chance that Christiana would reveal anything about the nature of their arrangement. That was for the duke to do, and she wanted no part in it. If Amelia had known in advance, she might have felt more willing to venture some details, but as she hadn’t known Hugh’s intentions, she most likely didn’t know about Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and the less an impressionable young woman knew about the Lyon’s Den, the better.
“I am very grateful to your brother,” Christiana said to Amelia.
“But…” Amelia glanced from one to the other. “Did you know each other before you agreed to wed?”
The duke cleared his throat as they reached an enormous drawing room, a pianoforte in one corner and a huge fireplace dominating the center of one wall. Large windows overlooked the parkland, and a collection of sofas were gathered around a small oak table. Amelia flung herself onto one.
“I take it you didn’t,” she said, a frown beginning at the corners of her mouth. “But if so, then how could you know—”
“If you have any more impertinent questions, I beg you would direct them at me,” he said, with enough chilly authority in his voice that Amelia snapped her jaw shut.
Christiana sank into one of the sofas. Remarkably comfortable, and probably recently upholstered. “My father arranged the match, in a way,” she said, and the duke’s fingers twitched.Fear not, Your Grace, I will mention nothing unwise.
“Your father?” Amelia’s mouth twisted as she thought, but then she gave another dazzling smile, twin dimples in her cheeks. “Well, you are here now, so we may as well make the best of it.”
They might as well, indeed. And yet there was something about the mischievous dimple showing in Amelia’s cheek that made Christiana suspect that ‘making the best of it’ would not be as simple as all that.
Chapter Nine
Amelia closed thedoor to Hugh’s study behind her, her palm flat on the wood as she considered her approach. Then she turned to where Hugh was already taking his place behind his desk—where he ordinarily sat. She could not count the number of times she had come here for a piece of his attention, only to find him engaged in some work or another.
No matter how she tried, she could not get him to take joy in the world. Or, heaven forbid, to have fun.
Originally, she had hoped that he would fall in love and get married and his wife would provide him with the means for fun. So far, he had already achieved one of those things; it was up to her to ensure the rest happened.
“Please tell me you are joking,” she said. “Tell me you did not go to London to marry a lady you didn’t know.”
He sighed, taking on the expression he had when he was unwilling to discuss something. Which meant the answer wasyes.
What a shortsighted, foolish thing to do.
Amelia swept across the room, trying to think her way through this mess. His new bride seemed nice enough, thoughshe dressed like a pauper. Amelia would have to rectify that, but for now—