A Taste of Desire(92)
No one spoke in the ensuing silence. Amelia’s cheeks warmed. If tales of her verbal exploits hadn’t reached the earl’s ears through the gossip mill, then of course, Thomas would have eagerly informed him. She could well imagine how badly they’d bandied her name about.
“James, do behave. You’ll have Amelia believing you’re as impertinent as I am,” Missy admonished lightly. “Since my brother seems to have forgotten his manners, Amelia, may I introduce you to my husband, James, the sixth Earl of Windmere.”
“Lord Windmere,” she said, dipping in another curtsey.
The earl dropped at the waist in a formal bow and grasped her hand in his, raising it to his lips for a kiss. “The pleasure is mine,” he said, slowly relinquishing her hand.
“Come, Amelia. You must be perfectly exhausted from your travels.” Addressing the footman who stood by the double staircase behind them, several large portmanteaus at his feet, Missy said, “Stevens, please take Lady Amelia’s baggage to the pink guest chamber and my brother’s to the green.”
“Yes, milady.” Stevens hefted one of the portmanteaus in his hands and proceeded up the stairs.
“I’m sure you would like to get out of those clothes and take a nice warm bath,” Missy said, her gaze skimming over Amelia’s wrinkled claret-colored traveling suit with its simple lines and full sleeves.
Suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, Amelia tucked several stray hairs into her once pin-neat coiffure. Too much napping had dislodged one too many pins from her chignon. “Yes, as you can well imagine, it has been a tiring day.”
She certainly wouldn’t tell the countess how excruciating the journey had been due to her brother’s brooding presence. As much as she’d tried to ignore him, she had found her gaze frequently drifting back to him, only to hastily look away as soon as he turned his regard to her.
“Come then. Let me show you and your maid to the guest quarters. I’m sure the men have much to discuss.” Missy smiled at her brother and then cast her husband a look so blatantly adoring Amelia averted her gaze. The feeling of intruding on something rare and intimate washed her in a cloud of melancholy.
With a familiarity no woman, save Elizabeth, had ever shown her, Missy hooked an arm through hers and proceeded up the stairs to what would be her bedchamber for the next two weeks.
“So that’s the infamous Lady Amelia,” Rutherford commented dryly, his eyes sparked in appreciation. “While no woman can hold a candle to my wife, she is a beauty.”
Rutherford was as enamored of his wife as any man Thomas had ever seen, which was just as well for she suffered just as badly as he.
“I couldn’t very well leave her at Stoneridge Hall,” Thomas muttered.
Rutherford chuckled. “Is that what you convinced yourself?”
Before Thomas could offer a response in his defense, the door sounded. Another footman quickly appeared to answer the chimed summons. Everything within him stiffened at the sight of Cartwright breezing through the doorway, hat in hand.
His friend’s presence normally would have promised a good time filled with great conversation—raucous and intelligent alike—and the ease of a long-held friendship. Or so it had been until Cartwright’s last visit. What the hell was wrong with him? Years ago, they’d all promised each other nothing, especially a woman, would ever come between them. Especially since the incident with Louisa. Pushing aside his feelings, Thomas forced a smile. If it lacked in authenticity, so be it. He was at least making the effort to be cordial.
Cartwright stopped to hand the footman his hat and coat before advancing toward them. Upon his approach, Rutherford thrust out his hand in greeting. “Missy told me you weren’t going to arrive until tomorrow.”
The two men smiled and shook hands warmly. “I left early to avoid the crush, as every fool I know intends to take to the roads tomorrow. And damned if I’m not glad I did. I practically had the entire first-class section to myself.”
“Seems more deliberate on the part of the train riders than a matter of happenstance.” Uncertain of his reception, Thomas kept his greeting in keeping with the sarcastic manner in which they often joked.
Cartwright’s expression instantly sobered as he turned to eye him silently. The seconds on the longcase clock outside the drawing room ticked inordinately loud throughout the hall. Just as Thomas’s smile began to falter, Cartwright raised his eyebrow. “After the way you tossed me from your home, I wasn’t sure you were still speaking to me.”