“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 astalkto 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 mightnotoffend 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 knewfrom 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. “Shelikesyou, 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 spiritswere 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 hernaked. 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 todosomething more with her, even. What that entailed, she had noidea. 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 justapplyyourself.”
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 tunelessclang. “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.”