Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

S he was flushed from the cold air, bringing the scent of winter in with her. Lionel doubted he had ever seen anyone so beautiful, his eyes so tired and grainy that there seemed to be a halo around her head.

You should have known you could not avoid her forever. He sat up straighter in his chair and put his spectacles back on, putting on his sternest expression.

The image of her was clearer through the lenses, highlighting her rare and remarkable beauty, offering details he had missed before: the different hues of blonde in her hair, the dark ring around the blue of her irises, the little trio of freckles on the apple of her left cheek, the expressiveness of her face.

“I am certain the staff will have told you that no one is permitted to enter here,” he said gruffly, suppressing his admiration.

Amelia folded her arms behind her back, clearly fighting the urge to bow her head. “I thought it prudent to ensure that you were still alive. The gardener mentioned that you had not been seen, so I took it upon myself to find you.”

“I am alive. You have seen me. You may go.”

She took a step closer. “You do not look well, Lionel.”

“This is the face of a gentleman who has a lot to do,” he replied. “So, if you please…” He gestured to the open door.

But she did not move, nervously holding her ground.

“What do you hope to gain from this?” he asked bluntly, stifling a yawn. “Are you attempting to make some kind of stand? I suppose it should not come as a great surprise, considering this manor seems to have brought some bad behavior out of you.”

He had not spent all of his time in the study, observing his wife from a safe distance. She had visited the gardens often in the past two days too, and he had an excellent view of them from the annex that adjoined the study. And when he had not been able to see her himself, Mrs. Scanlon had provided details of his wife’s movements.

“Bad behavior?” Amelia sounded confused. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean.”

“You have been changing things,” he replied coolly. “ That is mostly acceptable, though you will have to explain your choices to my grandmother. What is not acceptable is you taking your meals in the kitchen with the staff. I feel as if I am repeating myself, but you are a Countess.”

Her astonishing blue eyes widened, her pale, plump cheeks turning a sudden and alarming shade of red. “And you said I could do as I please. You did not say there were exceptions.”

Lionel quickly hid the look of surprise that attempted to form on his face, for he had not expected her to retort so readily. Evidently, the past few days had done wonders for her confidence, and though he hated to diminish it—in truth, he was glad to see it—he wanted her to leave the study as soon as possible. If she thought she could wander in whenever she liked, it would do him no favors.

I must be cruel to be kind. Indeed, he would have preferred it if she ended up hating him, rather than her developing any sort of fondness for him. He had assumed his absence would do that work for him, but clearly it was not enough.

“I did not think I had to note such exceptions,” he replied. “It is improper for a Countess to dine with the staff.”

Amelia chewed her bottom lip. “How do you know where I have dined?”

“That is none of your concern. Just be aware that you are being observed,” he said, picking up the nearest paper and skimming his eyes over it, though he already knew what it said. “I expect you to dine in the proper rooms from now on, though you may leave the dining room and the breakfast room as they are. The change you made is acceptable.”

Amelia’s throat bobbed. “So, you want me to dine alone? You want me to have no conversation, no interaction, just an empty room and the squeak of cutlery?” She did not shout, her voice barely above its usual restrained volume, but Lionel felt her anger. It was there in the wildness of her eyes, seen so clearly through his spectacles.

“It will not be for long,” he replied, offering none of the softness he might have otherwise shown. “My sister and grandmother will arrive soon enough. Then, they will dine with you. And in three weeks and three days, you can invite your friends whenever you like, or go to them. It is not permanent, Amelia.”

“Marriage is,” she croaked, looking for a moment like she might cry.

Lionel rose from his desk, but as he moved to walk by it, to at least offer her his handkerchief, the crushed expression upon her face made him falter. It was as if she had ensorcelled him somehow, his stiff leg buckling for a second. The jolt sent his hip into the side of the desk, and when his hand came down to brace himself, it caught a lantern—fortunately unlit.

He stared at the lantern as it tottered and threatened to fall, lunging at the last second to catch it. He fumbled to put the item back where it belonged, his heart racing as if he had undertaken a marathon.

What is the matter with me? He had never been clumsy before. Shaking off the strange feeling, he decided it was merely the fact that he had not slept much over the past few days, and when he had, it had been in the discomfort of the writing desk chair. Of course, his leg would need waking up after that.

“Are you well?” Amelia asked.

He glanced at her, forgetting why he had gotten up in the first place. She looked panicked, her gaze flitting between him and the lantern.

“Quite well, thank you,” he replied stiffly.

“That is… good,” she murmured, “but I am not. I do not want to be an afterthought, Lionel.”

He sighed. “You are not an afterthought. You are a woman in charge of a household, having a fine time of it, from what I hear. It is not my fault that you misunderstood the terms of our agreement.”

“But you, a gentleman of business, should have known to make the details perfectly clear,” she replied sharply, trembling though she held her head high. “Unless you are a charlatan? Are you a trickster in business?”

He walked back a few paces, perching on the edge of his desk. Subtly, he stretched out his sore leg, cursing the cold weather and the desk chair for the fresh aches.

“I certainly am not,” he answered curtly, insulted by the suggestion. If he did not suspect that he had hurt her first, he would have taken it personally. “I am as honest a businessman as you are likely to find. And yes, perhaps I should have made the details clearer, but one cannot answer what one is not asked.”

Amelia seemed to freeze, her plump lips slightly parted, her eyes going blank. He had flummoxed her, but he had no doubt that she would come up with a reply. She was an intelligent woman who was unaccustomed to being allowed to speak her mind; he had gauged that much.

“You make an excellent point,” she said at last, coming back to life before his very eyes. “Very well… I am not asking you to spend every waking moment with me, but if you are determined that I should dine in an appropriate setting, then… you will share one meal with me.”

He stared back at her in surprise, flummoxed in return. He had said it himself: she had no one else to dine with until his grandmother and sister arrived, and she did not want to dine alone. That left only him as a suitable candidate for dinner or breakfast. Although he did not want to risk getting close to her, or her getting close to him, he also did not want to be boxed into the same category of wretch as her father and brother.

It was a conundrum, not easily solved.

Breakfast would be the shorter choice, but I am rarely in a good temper at breakfast.

“One dinner,” she added hastily, as if she could read his thoughts. “Tonight. You can bathe and change, and I can meet you in the dining room at… seven o’clock. That ought to be plenty of time for you to finish what you are doing and ready yourself.”

He sighed and shrugged. “Seven o’clock it is.”

This way, at least it would be over with quickly, and she would see exactly why it would be better to wait for Rebecca and Caroline if she wanted to have entertaining dinner company.

But her face brightened at his agreement, her eyes wide with disbelief and excitement, her hands clasped. At the same moment, a smile broke across her beautiful features, like the sun coming out from behind dense thunderclouds. The sight of it, lighting her up from within, nearly made him knock over the inkwell next to his hand.

“You shall not regret this!” she chirped, turning on her heel.

Oh, but I fear I shall… he mused, as she ran from the room without another word, crowing about having to fetch Bea at once.