July 1816
Lowenbrock didn’t press her about reading her book, so she didn’t have to come up with an excuse to deny him. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were busy with last-minute preparations for the ball or if he realized she wasn’t ready yet to share her writing.
Now that he knew they’d met before when she was serving at the tavern, she didn’t have to fear being discovered. But there was still the matter of just how much she’d based the character of the hero on him, and he might not like it.
She’d started making changes in the second half of the book and was close to finishing the first draft. When that happened, she needed to go back to the beginning and change those parts of the book where the hero was almost indistinguishable from John.
She made her way to his study with the final menus for the ball. Mrs. Hastings had delivered the menus herself when Amelia had emerged from her writing session that afternoon. Amelia had already discussed with her the changes John asked her to make, but the head housekeeper wanted his formal approval. She really couldn’t blame the woman for wanting to ensure everything would meet the new marquess’s expectations.
It was impossible to believe the ball was only one week away. Amelia felt a mixed sense of excitement and apprehension whenever she thought about it. John’s friends and family were due to arrive soon and would be staying for a few days before the event.
She was afraid they wouldn’t approve of his choice of marchioness. If John changed his mind, she wouldn’t force him into keeping a promise made in the heat of passion. She loved him enough to let him go. But if that came to pass, her heart would never recover.
She tapped on his closed study door and opened it when John called out for her to enter. A smile lit his face when he saw it was her.
He held his hand out to her, and she circled the desk and took it. He tugged her onto his lap, as he usually did whenever she came into this room and they were alone.
“You cannot imagine how much I needed this break. My guilt at shirking my duty this year had me asking Jeffers for assistance in becoming familiar with the workings of Parliament. I had no idea he’d set out a massive course of study on English law and parliamentary procedure.”
Knowing that John liked to be prepared, she couldn’t help teasing him. “You probably don’t need to know all the inner workings. Just feel your way through things.”
His frown spoke volumes about what he thought of her suggestion, and she couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“Fine, I’ll admit that I like learning. It’s one of the things I regret about my youth… that I couldn’t go to Oxford as I’d hoped.”
John rarely spoke about his past. She’d have to dig deeper at some point, but the way he was looking at her now told her that talking was the last thing on his mind. Before he could lead them both astray, she placed the menus on his desk.
“Mrs. Hastings asked for your approval on the refreshments for the ball. She’s also created menus for what we’ll be serving the guests who will be staying here.”
John’s brows drew together. “Your approval should be enough. If you think it’s fine, then I will as well. It’s not as though I know anything about such things after spending the past ten years fighting on the continent.”
“I did consult on the choices. But until we’re wed, my opinion doesn’t hold as much weight as yours.”
John let out an annoyed huff. “I cannot wait to make the announcement at the ball.” He turned his attention to the sheets of paper she’d placed on his desk, his eyes scanning over the lists.
While his attention wasn’t fixed on her, Amelia closed her eyes for a moment and gathered her courage. When he gave a nod upon reaching the end of the pages, she took a deep breath. “We need to discuss the announcement.”
His gaze settled on hers again, his eyes narrowed. “Did you change your mind about making a formal announcement in the newspapers?”
Amelia shook her head. “I know you want to introduce me as your future marchioness early in the evening, but perhaps it would be best to wait until later. If you find one of the guests better suited to the role of marchioness—”
He stopped her with a fervent but brief kiss. “That won’t happen. No one could compare to you.”
Amelia’s heart soared at his words. She wanted desperately to believe that was true. “Perhaps we can wait until midway through the ball then?”
John released a harsh breath and leaned back in his chair. His eyes remained fixed on hers though, and she found herself wanting to squirm under the intensity of his stare. “You won’t give up on this nonsense, will you?”
Amelia looked away. “It is only fair. I don’t want you to feel trapped into marrying me when you haven’t had a chance to see if anyone else would suit you more.”
John’s eyes crinkled slightly, and she wondered what he’d found so amusing. “Fine,” he said, lifting one of her hands and placing a kiss in the center of its palm. “But I won’t change my mind. I hope the same can be said for you?”
“No. I wouldn’t continue to be with you like this if I didn’t care about you.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now tell me…” He gazed down at her palm again, stroking his fingers along the ink stains that marred the skin where she held her quill. “How is your writing going?”
She tried to ignore the nonsensical, slight flare of panic at his question. She wasn’t ready for him to read it.
“I’ve finished the first draft, but I still have much to do in edits. There are some changes I need to make. But these”—she wagged the fingers he still held in his grasp—“are from a letter I was writing. I’m not sure if I should bother sending it at this point or just hand it to her when she arrives. She’d mentioned in her last correspondence that she might be arriving earlier than planned.”
“This is your friend Mary?”
Amelia nodded. “It will be nice to have her here when your friends and family arrive. I admit I’m a little nervous about meeting them.”
His head tilted to one side. “Surely you invited more of your friends?”
“Mary Trenton is my closest friend from when my parents sent me away to school. I never really became close with anyone else.”
“You didn’t have a governess?”
The way he stroked a thumb along her fingers and over her palm sent shivers of awareness through her. It never failed to surprise her how such a simple touch could affect her so much.
“I did, but when the staff started falling ill and one of the maids died, my parents thought it best to send me away from home. That was the last time I saw them.”
He must have realized she was close to tears, because he didn’t press her for further details about that time. Instead, he held on to her hand more firmly, giving her the time she needed to collect herself.
After a minute had passed, she took a deep breath and continued. “I might have picked up a bad habit of dropping into a thick Yorkshire accent to annoy my uncle when I first came to live here. After a while, I was able to leave my anger behind and he became a father figure to me.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “That would explain your accent that night at the tavern. You have no idea how much I chastised myself when something about the way you tilted your head reminded me of that barmaid.”
And here she’d thought she’d been successful in erasing all signs of their first encounter. She’d underestimated this man.
She laid her free hand along his cheek and gazed into his eyes. “If we do wed, we’ll be going to London when you take your seat in the House of Lords. We’ll be able to attend all manner of balls then.”
“When we wed, I have no doubt that will happen. But I hope you don’t plan on accepting every invitation.”
Amelia couldn’t hold back her laugh at his alarm. “Much as I would like to linger here with you, I should probably let you get back to your work. Besides, I know Mrs. Hastings is awaiting my return.”
“You can tell her that I approve of the menus. And that I can’t wait until the day she’ll accept your word on these matters.”
She leaned closer and placed a kiss on his lips. It was meant to be a quick peck but turned into a lingering one.
He stopped her when she started to stand. “Perhaps we should lock the door and forget our duties for the afternoon.”
Anticipation surged at the suggestion. “We can’t. Mrs. Hastings has the keys to every room in this house. She warned me to return right away or she’ll hunt me down. I think she’s afraid I’ll disappear into my writing and forget about the menus.”
He raised one brow. “Shall we test that theory? Do you really think she’ll just barge in here?”
Amelia wanted nothing more than to take him up on his suggestion, but the last thing she wanted was a scandal. Despite how carefully they were behaving toward one another, there was no hiding from the servants the fact that her relationship to the marquess had changed. They were looking at her in a knowing way. And then there were the whispers that ceased when she entered a room. Of course, those whispers had always been present, but she couldn’t help but think everyone was talking about the two of them now.
To avoid temptation, she pulled away and rose from his lap. “You’re too conscientious to put off your work.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to hide the hint of disappointment in his voice. “And how do you know that?”
“You’ve thrown yourself into learning everything about the estate, working late into the night. And…” She waved a hand over the papers spread across his desk. “You won’t be content to take your seat in the House of Lords without learning everything you can about what’s expected of you. That speaks to a personality above reproach. We both know many wouldn’t go to that trouble.”
He gave his head a small shake. “You seem to have a high opinion of me.”
“You know that I do. I wouldn’t have agreed to your proposal if I didn’t.”
He was silent for several seconds. “Would you care to share your northern accent with me?”
She couldn’t hold back her embarrassment at his request. “You’ve already heard it once.”
“I’m curious. I can’t help but wonder if you’ll suddenly morph into the barmaid before my eyes.”
There was a hint of something in his eyes that she didn’t understand. “I’ve already admitted that I am.”
“Yes, but it might be fun. You can pretend to be the barmaid again, and I’ll pretend to be a customer who wants a different type of service.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. Good heavens, did people actually engage in such role-play? The thought scandalized her, but if she was being completely honest, it also sent a wave of heat through her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to pretend.
She leaned close and spoke in her native accent. She might have made it a little thicker on purpose to see how he would react. “Perhaps another time.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up, but before he could reach for her again, she snatched the menus from the desk and danced away from his reach.
His laughter followed her out the door. She had no doubt he’d make good on their little game later, and heaven help her, she was looking forward to it.