A Taste of Desire(71)
In the morning, Amelia was surprised to see their traveling party had acquired an additional member: one Lord Alex Cartwright. It appeared he too would be a guest at Stoneridge Hall. Thomas had been vague as to the duration, but the time—a day, a week—was immaterial. Anyone who could create a buffer between her and the viscount would be more than welcome.
Miss Foxworth appeared genuinely disappointed that Amelia had been too unwell to remain at the ball, but did indicate, in that subdued manner of hers, that she had enjoyed herself thoroughly. Lord Alex greeted her kindly while Thomas treated her with a studied indifference, which was just fine with her.
En masse, they departed Mayfair to Paddington Station. The women rode in the comfort of Thomas’s carriage while the men followed in a hired hack. Traveling separately from the viscount was another added benefit to having Lord Alex accompanying them.
On the train, the men discussed the latest methods of shipbuilding and the merits in acquiring stocks for a steel company lately trading on the London Stock Exchange. On that stretch of the trip, Amelia read a novel she’d brought with her, taking a short break for lunch when Thomas produced sandwiches, biscuits, fruit, and lemonade prepared for them by the viscountess’s cook.
They changed trains at Newton to go on to Totnes, where upon their arrival at the station, Thomas hired two hacks. At seven that evening, they concluded the ten-hour journey back to Stoneridge Hall.
“Will you be joining us for supper?”
Amelia paused on her way up the stairs, shooting a look at Thomas over her shoulder. Given he had spoken precisely five words to her the entire day—Good morning and Are you hungry?—the question surprised her.
“I think I’m going to retire for the evening.” Feeling travel weary and with her stomach unsettled from the long journey, she had absolutely no appetite.
Thomas’s gaze flickered over her briefly, his expression inscrutable. He nodded curtly. “You may resume your duties on Tuesday. Take tomorrow to rest.”
Coldly polite was an apt phrase to describe his manner toward her, yet his abeyance of her duties suggested something else. Something she’d be a fool to examine too closely.
Amelia turned quickly and made her way up to her bedchamber, where it would require another three hours to find escape in sleep.
A morning walk had been a mistake. Amelia realized it the moment her belly contracted in the second wave of pain. She should have heeded the signs when she awoke still feeling queasy from the night before. A mug of hot chocolate at breakfast had done nothing to settle it. And when she started to feel warm, instead of getting herself back to bed, she had decided fresh air—cold though it might be—and a quick walk would be the thing. She’d clearly been in denial.
The truth was, she had been all too eager to leave the house before anyone else arrived for breakfast. She also hated being sick. She hated the helplessness of it. Memories of fevers wracking her body and the smell of mint water could still elicit the odd niggling sense of fear. Stubbornly ignoring the signs would change nothing. She was ill, plain and simple.
As Amelia turned to go back to the house, she caught sight of Lord Alex cresting the hill before her. He looked exceedingly handsome, his lean muscular frame donned in tan and brown riding clothes.
Halting in front of her, he greeted her with a dip of his head and a tip of his hat. “Lady Amelia.”
“Lord Alex,” she replied, suddenly aware that this was the first time they’d ever been alone together.
“I wasn’t aware that you would be out walking this morning.” He took in her attire. “I assume you have come out for a walk?” he queried politely.
“Yes, one does get tired of being indoors for an extended length of time.” Even if one wasn’t feeling quite up to par.
A faint smile tipped the corners of his mouth—a full mouth, especially for a man. “Given my friendship with your father, I can’t believe we aren’t better acquainted. I hope to rectify that during this visit.”
Disarmed, Amelia could only stare at him, at a loss for words. She quickly collected herself. “Yes, well, that is-is surprising.”
“But I see no reason we cannot further our acquaintance now. I pray you won’t hold Armstrong’s behemoth-like behavior against me?”
In her weakened condition—and indeed she did feel weak—Amelia couldn’t gauge whether he was toying with her or not. His handsome face was everything to be found in gentlemanly solicitousness.
“Certainly not.”