Undressed by the Earl (26 page)

He sobered, realizing how different his two wives were. Katherine had enjoyed making love with him, but she’d never been as bold as Amelia. He sensed that his new wife would drive a saint into eternal damnation. She’d tempted him, not only on their wedding night, but also on the journey here.

If he wanted her in his bed, all he had to do was enter her room. He knew that, and yet he was torn by his body’s desires and the illogical desire to remain faithful to Katherine.

David sat down and picked up a pen, writing Amelia a note:
I’m glad you don’t think I’m a troll
. Then he tucked it among her other papers and stood to leave.

The door swung open and Amelia entered, nearly dropping the basket of flowers when she saw him. “I didn’t realize you were here, my lord.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” he said. “David is fine, remember?”

“Did you need something, David?” she asked, her gaze darting toward the desk. It was as if she suspected he’d read her notes and was embarrassed.

He thought about talking to her about Christine’s ridiculous accusations but decided that she wouldn’t be able to laugh about them yet. Instead, he said, “I wanted to see that you were comfortable in your room. Is everything the way you’d like it?”

She sent him a wry smile. “Not yet. But even so, I don’t think the servants would help me to change it. They’re quite loyal to the first Lady Castledon and were appalled when I took down the drapes.”

He wasn’t surprised, for his household staff preferred to leave everything as it was. Still, they did need to allow Amelia to make a few adjustments. “How would you like them to help you now?”

Amelia shrugged and picked up the fallen basket. She picked up a daisy and snapped off the blossom, tucking it behind one ear. The blossom was a white contrast against her darker blond hair. “I want them to do as I ask without informing me that it’s not the way the former Lady Castledon decorated the house. It’s not a good beginning, David. As Lady of Castledon, they shouldn’t be arguing with me at every turn.” She rested a hand upon his chair. “If they will not carry out their duties, I will hire staff members who will do as I ask.”

Now this made him hesitate. Most of the staff had been at Castledon since he was a young boy. They were as much a part of the estate as anything else, and he couldn’t imagine hiring a different housekeeper or butler. “I will speak to them, if you wish.”

“I won’t allow them to treat me like a brainless miss,” she continued. “I may be young, but I am lady of this household. I cannot keep servants who undermine my decisions.”

He didn’t want her to feel so unwelcome in her own home. “Amelia, you needn’t worry. Let me address the situation and trust that the household will run itself, once you’re accustomed to everything. In the past, Katherine never had to interfere with any of it. You’ll have more freedom to do as you please.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she appeared confused. “Do you mean to say that…your wife allowed the servants to make all of the decisions about the meals and so on? She never voiced her own wishes?”

“She spoke with Mrs. Menford from time to time, but Katherine never cared about the menus or the household. She let them run it as they did when my mother and father were alive.” David had preferred it that way. He saw no sense in changing what wasn’t broken. “And I think you’d be happier not having to concern yourself with it.”

Amelia had fallen quiet. Whether or not he’d made her feel better, he didn’t know. But then she plucked the daisy from her hair and held it out to him. “You should go and change for dinner. Perhaps there will be bread and water if we’re lucky.”

He took the daisy and twirled the stem. “Amelia, it won’t be that bad.”

She sent him a pointed look, as if to say, yes, it
was
that bad. David decided to broach the other concern. “And…it will get easier with Christine. I know she’s not been easy to like, given her behavior. But once she gets better acquainted with you, she’ll come to realize that you’ll be not only a new mother, but a friend.”

Her expression grew strained, as if she didn’t believe that at all. He stood and was about to leave, when he saw that she was fighting back tears. Amelia wasn’t one to cry, but it seemed that she was on edge.

“What else is bothering you?” he asked quietly.

She took a breath, gathering her composure. Though her eyes still gleamed, she admitted, “From the moment I’ve stepped into this house, I’ve felt sixteen years old again. I’m told what I can and cannot do. I’m not permitted to make any changes or do anything that would alter the household. I don’t feel like your wife at all.”

He was caught by the unhappiness in her voice and he took her hand, drawing her closer. Without words, he guided her arms around his waist, while he framed her face. “Don’t you?”

“Not really.” Her words were the barest whisper, and he drew his thumb across her cheek and over her mouth.

Without asking her leave, he kissed her. There was a hint of salt upon her lips, revealing earlier tears.

He didn’t want her to be unhappy here. But every time he touched Amelia, it was as if the years of grief disappeared for a moment. The light of her presence twined around him, healing the raw edges. Amelia had been right; it was hard to enjoy happiness again, to take pleasure in another wife after so long. His instincts warned that he should tighten his heart against any emotions. Friendship was acceptable. But love was dangerous.

She sighed against his mouth, pulling him closer. The warmth of her arms and the velvet softness of her mouth beckoned him toward another means of forgetting.

He knew he should let go of the past and move forward. But no one had ever told him how hard that first step would be. It was as if she were melting away the hardened ice of grief, easing him with the balm of her touch.

And when she pulled back from the kiss, he found that his hands were shaking.

Amelia sat at the end of a dining room table that could host twelve people. The earl sat on the opposite side, at the head of the table, with his daughter beside him. Christine sent Amelia a triumphant look, as if she’d planned it this way.

No, more likely it was Mrs. Menford, the housekeeper, who had placed the pair of them so far apart, her husband would need an ear trumpet to hear her.

This wouldn’t do at all.

Amelia picked up her silver and marched to the end where Lord Castledon sat. She took a place at his right and feigned ignorance. “I hope you don’t mind my joining you. It was lonely at the far end with only a pepper pot to speak to.”

Fortunately, the earl nodded, not seeming to care where she sat. But Christine kicked Amelia beneath the table, so her father wouldn’t see.

“Ouch!” Amelia said, rubbing at her shin. She sent an incredulous look toward the young girl, who was ignoring her.

“Are you all right?” David asked.

She was tempted to tell him what his daughter had done, but that would only make the girl into a stronger enemy. Instead she said, “Yes. I bumped my leg by accident.”

Christine appeared confused, as if she’d expected Amelia to rail at her. But Amelia had three sisters and knew that the girl was trying to provoke a fight to gain her father’s attention. She stared at her stepdaughter as if to say,
I know what you did, and it won’t work with me
.

But David was not oblivious to his daughter’s behavior. His gaze narrowed upon Christine. “Did you kick Amelia under the table?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted. “I was only stretching my legs. She must have bumped into me.” The young girl put on an expression of false innocence. “Papa, I promise you, I would never kick anyone.”

He eyed Amelia. “Were you attacked by the table leg?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t say for certain. It may have been an imaginary dog who kicked me. Or perhaps a ghost?”

“Or a ghost dog,” David said drily. He seemed aware of her tactic and turned back to his daughter. “I don’t believe your mother would have approved of lies, Christine.”

“I didn’t lie,” she said weakly. She held her father’s gaze without blinking, for nearly a minute. “Don’t you believe me?”

Soon, her eyes welled up, and he let out a sigh. “Christine, I know what you did. Apologize to Amelia at once.”

The girl glared at her. “I apologize for my leg accidentally hitting yours.”

It was no accident at all, but Amelia forced herself to remain serene. “I accept your apology. Accidents do happen.”
Though not in this instance.

The first course arrived, and instead of a rich soup, there was a bowl of salty chicken broth. Amelia took one sip and decided not to risk any more. The earl and his daughter didn’t seem to notice. Both finished the broth while talking about a book Christine had read recently.

The rest of the meal was lacking as well. The meat—which Amelia thought was supposed to be beef—was brown and listless. The vegetables were limp, and she could mash them with her fork.

What startled Amelia most of all was how the earl and Christine were utterly unaware of how terrible the food was.

“How is your food?” she asked, wondering if theirs was as bad. The earl shrugged, and Christine nodded as if to say it was fine. Amelia took a sip of wine and tried to think of how she could solve this debacle. Mrs. Larson would die if she saw this mess.

A flash of inspiration caught her, for the housekeeper could undoubtedly transform this household in a matter of days. Mrs. Larson would know which servants were hard workers and which ones needed to be better trained or replaced.

The thought of seeing her mother’s housekeeper was a hope that flared inside her, along with a touch of homesickness. She decided to write to Beatrice and ask if Mrs. Larson could pay a visit, spending a few weeks helping her to sort out the household.

When her plate was taken away, she’d hardly touched any of it, but at least now she had a practical solution. Mrs. Larson was brash and bold and wouldn’t hesitate to go after anyone who was disobedient.

Now that she had one problem solved, she had another to manage. When she studied Christine, Amelia saw that the girl’s sleeves were well above her wrists. Her gown was better suited to a six-year-old than an eleven-year-old.

“Christine, I plan to visit the village in the morning. Would you like to come with me and we could go shopping?” It might give them a chance to be better acquainted without Lord Castledon. And if the girl needed new clothing, she could help choose the fabric.

“I—I planned to spend the day with Papa.” There was confusion on her face, as if she hadn’t expected to be asked.

“He can come along, if he wants to.” Amelia shot him a knowing look. “He might want to pick out a new bonnet for himself.”

The earl sent her a pointed look. “I’ll let you pick out one for me,” he remarked. “With ribbons and lace, if you please. Purple lace.”

The sudden look in his eyes reminded Amelia of the sketch she’d drawn, of the purple lace chemise. Had he seen that? From the faint smile on his lips, she suspected he had.

Amelia swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away. “I’ll see what I can find.”

The young girl appeared unaware of their hidden exchange. “No, I don’t want to go with you.”

“Christine, it will be good fun, you’ll see. If you need any new clothes, we’ll have you measured.” Amelia tried to make it sound much more interesting, but her stepdaughter’s expression didn’t change at all.

“Mrs. Menford can take me shopping. I needn’t go anywhere with you.”

Before the earl could intervene, Amelia stopped him with a hand. “No, it’s all right. I’ll go on my own, and if Christine changes her mind, she can join me.”

Instead of appearing relieved, the girl stared down at her plate.

“No, she’s going to go with you.” Lord Castledon eyed his daughter with a steely look. “And she’s going to make an effort to get better acquainted. You are her stepmother now.”

Christine rolled her eyes and let out a heavy breath, as if her father had ordered her to spend all day scrubbing the floors. “Yes, Papa.”

Amelia decided that she needed to intervene before this became a punishment instead of a way to mend their differences. “What do you like to do when you’re alone, Christine?”

The girl shrugged and said nothing.

“Christine likes to draw,” the earl said. “She’s also quite good at watercolors.”

But the girl grimaced, as if she didn’t care for it at all. Earlier, Amelia had gone t
o ask Christine a question about the gardens, and when she’d gone inside the nursery, she’d spied towers of books and bits of paper with scribbled stories. Whether or not the girl enjoyed writing, Amelia thought of a different surprise the young girl might enjoy—a writing space of her own with an assortment of pens, ink, and paper. Perhaps a space in the attic where she could look out over the grounds.

It was something to think about.

After a time, the earl sent Christine away for bed, leaving them alone. Amelia toyed with her fork, and in time, his leg brushed hers.

“Don’t kick me,” she said, smiling at him.

“My leg twitched of its own accord.” But his wry expression said that he knew exactly what he’d been doing. David stood and offered his arm to lead her from the dining room table.