The next hour passed in a blur of introductions and carefully navigated conversations. Amelia found herself repeating the story Hereford had constructed—that he was captivated by her criticism of aristocratic men’s moral fortitude and had to make her acquaintance.
“And when precisely did you realize you were in love?” demanded Lady Bancroft, whose disappointed daughter sulked nearby. “It must have been quite the epiphany to prompt such a hasty ceremony.”
Amelia opened her mouth to recite their agreed-upon answer about a moment of clarity during a charity event, but Hereford spoke first.
“It was when she compared me to a peacock with more feathers than sense in theMetropolitan Review,” he said, his expression softening with what appeared to be genuine fondness. “Most women simper and flatter. Amelia told me exactly what she thought of my ‘frivolous existence’ and ‘wasteful privileges.’ I found it refreshingly honest.”
Lady Bancroft looked scandalized. “And that attracted you?”
“Immensely,” Hereford replied, his gaze fixed on Amelia with warmth. “Intelligence is the most compelling quality a woman can possess.”
Amelia felt heat rising in her cheeks. This wasn’t part of their agreed narrative.
“How unconventional,” Lady Bancroft sniffed. “Though I suppose some men enjoy being challenged. My late husband preferred a more traditional arrangement.”
“Different strokes,” Hereford murmured, his hand finding Amelia’s waist again as he guided her away. Once they were out of earshot, he leaned close to whisper, “Sorry about the deviation from our script. I couldn’t resist.”
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” she accused, though without real heat.
“Immensely,” he repeated with a wink. “Though I meant what I said about your intelligence.”
Before she could formulate a response, a voice called out to Hereford. “Charles! Come settle a debate about that horse you purchased at Tattersalls.”
“Duty calls,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Will you be all right for a moment?”
“I’m not a child at her first dance,” Amelia replied. “Go discuss your horses. I’ll survive.”
She watched him move across the room, noting how different groups seemed to brighten as he joined them. For all his rakish reputation, Charles possessed an undeniable charm that drew people to him. She found herself wondering how much of it was genuine and how much was calculated performance.
“Well, well. The mysterious new Lady Hereford.”
Amelia turned to find an elderly woman regarding her through a gold-rimmed quizzing glass. The infamous Aunt Gertrude, she presumed, recognizing the family resemblance to her niece, the dowager.
“Lady Beecham,” Amelia curtseyed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Hmph.” The old woman circled her like a military inspector. “You’re not what I expected. Charles usually favors more ornamental women.”
“Perhaps he decided substance was a welcome change.”
Aunt Gertrude cackled. “Oh, you’ve got spine! Good. You may call me Aunt Gertrude since you don’t look like you’d collapse under the weight of the Hereford name.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The last three generations of Hereford marriages were disasters. Beautiful, empty-headed girls who couldn’t manage more than producing the requisite heir before retreating to their country estates with various nervous ailments.”
“I assure you, my lady, I don’t suffer from nerves.”
“Evidently not. Though I hear you suffer from other physical challenges.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to Amelia’s left leg.
Amelia felt her spine stiffen. “I manage quite well, thank you.”
“Yes, I can see that.” The old woman’s eyes were sharp with intelligence. “Though I wonder if you’ll manage the more intimate aspects of marriage equally well? The Hereford men have always been rather… vigorous in their appetites.”
Heat flooded Amelia’s face. “I don’t believe that’s an appropriate—”
“Aunt Gertrude,” the dowager marchioness interrupted, materializing beside them. “I see you’ve met my new daughter-in-law.”
“Indeed.” The old woman’s expression remained calculating. “I was just inquiring about her fitness for her new role. Particularly given her age and impediment.”
To Amelia’s astonishment, the dowager’s expression hardened. “Amelia’s leg is hardly relevant to her capabilities as a marchioness. Her background is concerning enough without drawing attention to physical matters.”
“Yet one must consider the succession,” Aunt Gertrude persisted. “Can she bear healthy children with such a condition?”
