A Taste of Desire(31)
But his assurance didn’t appear to appease his mother as much as he’d hoped. “And I will let it be known that Amelia is here as your guest.”
“But I will be leaving in a month.”
“And an unfortunate calamity will befall her, which will prohibit her from joining you and the girls in America. A surprise her father could not have anticipated but one that will sadly never come to pass.”
The viscountess regarded him, her green eyes flickering with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Reaching over, she patted his forearm. “You have obviously thought of everything. I just hope this whole affair doesn’t result in unwanted consequences.”
Thomas gave a hollow laugh. “You’re worrying overmuch. I will ensure nothing untoward should mar Amelia’s reputation in your absence.”
If his mother dared pick up one of the gossip rags, she’d soon learn a red mark already existed. Over a month had passed since Lady Stanton’s ball, and the London set still savored the incident with the same relish as a wine connoisseur did a glass of Bordeaux.
With a satisfied nod, the viscountess gave her skirt a pat and rose. “Good, then I shall take myself off to bed.”
Thomas held up his glass to her. “Good night, Mother.”
She strode to the door. Upon reaching it, she stopped and turned back to him. “You said once that her mother died when she was young.”
“Yes,” Thomas affirmed even though it hadn’t been a question.
His mother sighed. “I did sense a sadness there. You will take care how you deal with her, won’t you? I very much want her to enjoy her stay.”
Caught off guard by the statement, Thomas was at a loss of how to respond. His conscience didn’t need the reminder of a dead parent. He too had lost his father at a difficult age. As for sadness, he saw none of that. What he saw was a spoiled and difficult female who cared nothing for anyone but herself.
“Rest assured, Mother, I will treat Lady Amelia with all the respect and care that is due her.”
His reply appeared to satisfy her this time, for she offered him a warm smile before quitting the room.
Thomas sat and pondered her parting statement long after she’d gone.
Chapter 10
The following morning, and hours after day had wrested itself from the night grey and dreary, Thomas watched the long hand on the ormolu clock inch to the next position in its sixty-second journey. One minute after eight. Amelia was now officially late.
Indecision warred like a tempest within him. His first instinct urged—no commanded—that he follow through on his promise. He should march upstairs to her chamber and haul her bodily from her bed. But he didn’t believe he possessed the discipline such a task would require without wringing her beautiful neck. Then there was the matter of his family and the servants. All the commotion was sure to cause a disturbance of tongue wagging proportions.
He went to his desk and gave the tasseled cord of the bell pull on the wall an impatient tug. Within seconds of the pealed summons, Johns, the second footman, appeared at the study entrance.
“Sir?” Johns inquired with the proper deference.
Thomas had intended to instruct him to send one of the maids to locate Amelia but quickly thought better of the idea and snapped his mouth closed. Such insolence could only be by design. No doubt she was currently tucked snug in her bed, fairly champing at the bit waiting to see just what he would do next.
“I can’t seem to find the posts from yesterday.” It was the first thing that came to his mind—and completely inane.
“I believe they’re on your desk, sir.” Johns replied solemnly.
Thomas made a show of moving around the books and papers on the desk, before saying, “Ah, yes. Here they are, buried under my work. Very well, that will be all.”
With a quick bow, Johns pivoted on his heel and exited.
Damn girl. Now she had him looking like a dimwit in front of his servants. While contemplating how best to deal with Amelia, he began to rifle through the stack of correspondence, most of which, he surmised at a glance, did not require his immediate attention. However, one of the envelopes—dark olive in color—caught his eye just as he was about to toss it back onto the pile with the rest. It was obvious by the handwriting the sender was female, but not one he was familiar with.
Curious, he tore open the envelope and extracted a single piece of paper. The words on the first line jumped out at him: My Dearest Thomas. His gaze shot immediately to the salutation at the bottom, which read With all my affections, Louisa.