Time to herself as she waited for dinner did nothing to ease Amelia’s nerves. She and John had agreed that they wouldn’t reveal their relationship until midway through the ball, but that didn’t calm her in the least. She wanted his friends to like her, but she wasn’t nearly as witty in person as she was on the page. She feared they would find her lacking in all manner of ways. For that reason, she’d taken great care when dressing to look her best.
She needed a distraction, and what better way to take her mind from the upcoming dinner than to immerse herself in someone else’s world. With that goal in mind, she made her way down the hall to the library.
Her uncle hadn’t been a fan of fiction, but over the years she’d used a portion of her funds to buy some of the more popular titles. She wandered over to the shelf he’d set aside for her books and let out a sigh. She’d already read through her meager collection. She’d hoped to visit one of the circulating libraries when she was in London to learn what members of the ton were clamoring for, but her visit had been cut short before she’d been able to do so.
She settled for a reread of The Castle of Otranto. It was a slim volume and had started the trend of what many called “horrid” novels. She preferred the term Gothic herself, hating the judgment inherent in the more popularly used term. Her gaze fell on The Mysteries of Udolpho, and she took that book to set aside for later. She’d have to wait until she had more time to read the much longer book by Mrs. Radcliffe.
She was halfway through Horace Walpole’s story when she was drawn out of the fictional world of a haunted castle and family curses by the sound of loud male voices. John and his friends were coming down the stairs together.
With a deep breath, she put the book aside. The story had served to take her mind from the upcoming meeting, but her nerves came rushing back as she made her way to the drawing room.
She hesitated on the threshold, examining the men who hadn’t yet noticed her arrival. They were laughing at something one of them had said, and it warmed her heart to see the man she loved enjoying the company of his friends. She was probably biased in thinking he was the most handsome man in the room, but the way his fair hair shone in the candlelight never failed to capture her attention.
The other men were dark-haired and also attractive. John had told her they were unattached, and she could well imagine the stir the three men would cause at the ball.
As if sensing her perusal, John glanced her way. He raised one brow and waited for her to gather the courage to join them. He must have sensed her trepidation, because he didn’t draw their attention to her.
After taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped into the room.
John’s friends turned her way, and she found herself the subject of their scrutiny. She wanted to examine their expressions to see if they recognized her from that night at the tavern but knew it would seem too forward. Instead, she waited as John made his way to her side.
“Miss Amelia Weston,” he said with a bow. “Allow me to introduce these two ruffians to you. My good friends Viscount Ashford and Baron Cranston. Gentlemen, I present to you Miss Amelia Weston, niece to the late Marquess of Lowenbrock.”
They inclined their heads, and she curtsied, doing her best to ignore her nerves. Not since that evening at the tavern had she been the subject of such intense male scrutiny. Unlike that time, however, she didn’t feel that these men had any ill intentions toward her. They were definitely curious, but they gave no indication of recognizing her.
Ashford smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weston. Lowenbrock didn’t tell us that the marquess had such a lovely niece or that we’d have the pleasure of meeting you today.”
John had warned her that his friends would be flirtatious but that their attention would be harmless. They’d never force themselves on someone who didn’t welcome it.
“Well, he has told me quite a bit about you and Lord Cranston.”
Cranston chuckled. “We’re in trouble now, Ashford.”
The viscount raised a shoulder. “I welcome the opportunity to get to know you.”
Cranston’s brow furled. “It’s the oddest thing. I feel as though we’ve met before.”
Amelia’s stomach dipped. She and John had discussed this eventuality. It was clear the baron couldn’t place her. She hadn’t served them that evening, so his friends had only seen her from afar. They would never realize she was the barmaid John had helped.
Her gaze never wavered as she smiled. “I am certain we’ve never been introduced.”
“Of course not,” Cranston said with a small shake of his head. “You remind me of someone, but for the life of me I can’t say who.”
Amelia was saved from replying when the butler arrived to tell them that dinner would soon be served. She took John’s arm and allowed him to lead her and his friends to the dining room. Now that she didn’t have to worry about one of these men recognizing her, her sense of relief was profound.