“I imagine others are too shallow to venture any deeper.”
He crooked a smile at her. “Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires.”
It took Amelia a moment to place the line but she breathed, “Macbeth.”
He was surprised. “You are a reader of Shakespeare?”
“I am indeed. He spins lines ever so prettily. But do you have dark desires, Your Grace, that they must be hidden?”
“I believe it is myself that is hidden,” he admitted. “My desires are not so dark but the ton would imagine they are.” He glanced away, as if ashamed, but Amelia only stepped forward, beckoning his attention back.
“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt,” she quoted, smiling. “Another quote that is a favoured one of mine. It is one I often forget but wish I did not.”
“I am fond of that one. Do you have a favourite Shakespeare story?”
Amelia could not remember the last time she had spoken for so long with somebody that was not her family, or Eleanor. She nodded. “I very much enjoy Macbeth. It is why I recognized your quote. I enjoy the tale that has quite dark undertones and mystical interpretation. I like the betrayal, even if it hurts. I like that a strong lady in the background is actually the driving force.” She paused, realizing she may have spoken too passionately. “Heavens, I imagine that makes me sound true to what the column wrote about me.”
“It does not.”
His low, honest assurance made her tremble. She found herself even closer, and knew that she ought to step back, to put distance between herself for she could not risk any ruination for her third Season, but she could not bring her feet to move.
“Miss Hawthorne—”
The Duke of Blackthorn was cut off by a gasp that came from behind Amelia.
Lady Cassandra’s voice rang loud with an accusation. “Miss Hawthorne, you are alone with—with Lord Ambrose!”
***
Cassandra’s plan was in motion. It had occurred to her that she could use the very handsome but not so very bright Lord Ambrose to her full advantage.
It is simple, she had told Beatrice.We entangle Lord Ambrose and Miss Hawthorne together and have them be the focus of the scandal. This shall free His Grace to finally focus only on me.
She had switched the seating arrangements, slipping the servants a purse of coins to do it behind her parents’ back, who had originally placed Miss Hawthorne next to the Duke of Blackthorn. Discreetly, Cassandra had switched their name cards.
But now she chased down Lord Ambrose, catching up to him as he was about to pick up a racquet.
“Lord Ambrose,” she began sweetly. He turned around, his gaze already lowered and sultry, fixed on her. “I could not help but see you growing close to Miss Hawthorne over tea.”
“Indeed,” he answered. “The poor lady could not stop gazing at me. There were moments when I could have sworn her gaze wentpastme but as long as it did land on me—”
“Yes, yes,” Cassandra said impatiently. “I believe I saw her slipping into the hedge maze. It would be a shame if you did not speak with her while you now have the chance. At the balls, she shall be… let us say, a highly attractive dance partner, given her association with His Grace, the Duke of Blackthorn. Perhaps if you made your impression with her now you might have a better chance.”
“But I was about to play shuttlecock with—”
“Do not,” Cassandra said sharply but quickly faked a laugh.I only need them to be caught alone.“Go now, Lord Ambrose. You must take your chances!”
“Indeed you are right!” he agreed, dropping his racquet. “However, first, I must—”
“Do not prolong this any further!” she snapped, turning on her heel, en route to find Beatrice, giddy, for her plan happening perfectly. Rushing to Beatrice’s side, she could barely contain her glee.
“Gather the ladies,” Cassandra said, “for I have just sent Lord Ambrose into the hedge maze where Miss Hawthorne is.”
“We must hurry to catch them in the act!”
Giggling, the two girls gathered up their group, and altogether, they walked to the entrance of the hedge maze.
Cassandra gasped, smirking at Beatrice, as she loudly exclaimed, “Miss Hawthorne, you are alone with—with Lord Ambrose!” only to roundthe corner to find that it was not Lord Ambrose but the Duke of Blackthorn instead.
