Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(17)

“I didn’t realize you were entertaining a guest,” the girl said, stopping before them. “I was just looking for my …” She paused when her eyes met Lily’s. A self-conscious smile dimpled her cheeks. “Goodness, Lady Lily, I’m not a ghost. I’m only breeding.”

Lily snapped her mouth shut, feeling a blush work up her throat. She’d been staring at the poor girl like something that crawled out from a crack in the plaster.

To Amelia, Claudia said, “You hadn’t told her?”

“Not yet,” Amelia replied. She cast an apologetic glance in Lily’s direction.

At last, Lily recovered herself. “It’s so good to see you, Claudia.” She embraced the girl as best she could around her massive belly, planting a light kiss on her cheek. “I hope you’re well?”

Stupid question. What possible answer could the girl give? Pregnant and unmarried, and sixteen at the most—she could not be feeling entirely well.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“Will you join us for some tea?” Lily gestured toward the chairs.

“No, thank you. I’m on my way to have a rest. I was looking for my book, but I must have left it upstairs. If you’ll excuse me, Lady Lily.” She nodded in lieu of a curtsy and moved to leave.

“One moment,” Amelia told Lily, extending a hand in the universal gesture for wait.

Lily resumed her seat as Amelia rushed to her young ward’s side. Together they ascended the grand staircase, Claudia with one hand on the railing and the other arm on Amelia’s shoulder.

Tearing her gaze away, Lily busied herself pouring yet more tea. She didn’t want to be caught gawking again.

After a minute, Amelia dropped into the chair opposite. “So,” she said.

“So …?” Lily prompted.

As Amelia began to tell the tale, her strength of emotion was evident. Unfortunately, it also made her speech difficult to follow. Her story was a rapid stream of words, twisting in several directions as it flowed from beginning to end. Though Lily couldn’t catch everything her friend said, she gathered that Claudia had been seduced by one of her tutors. Her pregnancy was to blame for her strange behavior at Briarbank that summer, it seemed. The poor girl had hidden her condition from everyone.

At last, Amelia’s words slowed. “We are in Town to be close to specialists, but not for me. My own pregnancy has gone easily, but Claudia has had episodes of bleeding and pain. At least here we’re closer to the best physicians.”

“My goodness,” Lily said, trying to absorb it all. “What a difficult situation.”

“Claudia is confined to the house. We’ve kept the pregnancy secret for now. It only seems the prudent thing, since we’re still uncertain whether she’ll keep the child.”

Lily briefly wondered whether Amelia referred to the option of fostering the baby with another family, or the possibility of a stillbirth. Both, she supposed. “I thought you said you’re not often recruited into clandestine schemes.”

Amelia shrugged. “It has been occurring with more frequency of late. Poor Spencer was going mad with worry in Cambridgeshire, but the stables were always his refuge. Now he’s away from all that, trapped in a London house with two breeding women, one of whom is ill … It’s understandably trying. So you see, a dinner party may not be the best idea.”

“Of course. I see.”

“You’re disappointed.” Amelia laced her hands together and squeezed.

“No, not at all,” Lily lied brightly. “It was only an idea, and a flawed one at that. We’ll do it another time. I’ll just send Julian a note to tell him tonight’s dinner is canceled.”

And hope he doesn’t turn up dead by morning.

She shut her eyes, and red dots swam behind her eyelids. The same bright crimson shade as his blood.

When Amelia leaned closer and put a comforting hand on her arm, Lily couldn’t help it. The tears welled in her eyes and overflowed. Soon she was sobbing on Amelia’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so worried for him. This morning the costermonger delivered him to our doorstep before dawn. He’d collapsed on the street, and he was bleeding, and for a moment …”

All the fears she’d battled in those predawn hours came rushing back, assailing her with double force. This time, she let herself feel them, surrendering to the comfort of her friend’s embrace as the tears fell.

Once she’d mastered her emotion, Lily said, “For a moment, I was so certain he was dead. Just like Leo.”

Amelia pulled back. Her own eyes were moist with sympathy as she offered a handkerchief. “You poor dear. Is he well now? Mr. Bellamy, I mean.”

“Yes.” Lily wiped her eyes with the square of linen. “It was only a small injury, sustained when the crowd panicked at a boxing match. He won’t stop attending the things, you know. Wherever there’s fighting—man or beast—he goes there, hoping to find Leo’s killers. But I fear he’s just going to get himself killed. It’s been five months now. I don’t understand why he can’t let it go.”

“He feels responsible. That’s what he told us that night. He was supposed to be with Leo, and he thinks he could have prevented the murder if he’d been there.”