Would it bother him? No. He didn’t give a toss about her past. If he wanted to marry her, it’d be because he found her smart and attractive. Yes, maybe the irrational, male pride of him would be a bit stung, but he liked her too much to let his stupid pride stand between him and a lifetime with her.
If he wanted to marry her. And he didn’t want to.
Christopher shook his head. “No. It wouldn’t be a reason for a rejection.”
Her shoulders stooped. “What do you think then?” Her hand moved under his until she laced her fingers with his.
The simple gesture shot a wave of pleasure through his body. It seemed so intimate and precious, somehow even more than the kiss they’d shared.
“I swear I won’t force you to marry me afterwards.” Her lips were inches away.
“I—”
Heavy footfalls stomped in the corridor.
Amelia bolted away and turned towards the sound. “I’d recognise those steps everywhere.”
In a flutter of skirts, she rose and hid behind the curtain of one of the French windows.
“What are you doing?”
She pressed a finger on her lips. “It’s her.”
Before he could ask who, Mrs Armstrong appeared on the other side of the corridor like a stormy cloud and marched towards him. “I’m terribly sorry to trouble you, My Lord, but I’m searching for Miss Amelia. Have you seen her by any chance?”
From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Amelia shaking her head. “Yes, I’ve actually seen her.”
“Where?”
“With Florence.”
Mrs Armstrong’s sharp gaze narrowed. “Do you know where they were going?”
“To the church.” He gestured towards the generic direction behind him. “For the evening service. I believe they should be here any minute.”
“The church?” Mrs Armstrong clasped her hands together and regarded him like a teacher who was gauging a student’s lies.
Behind her, Amelia hid her laugh under a hand.
“Florence is a very religious woman,” he added for good measure, although he hadn’t the foggiest.
“If I may say something.”
“Please.” He stifled a grimace as the pain in his leg pounded.
“I’m not sure I like that woman. Florence, I mean. She’s too loud and bold. She isn’t the right companion for a wayward girl like Miss Amelia.”
“Who is the right companion for her then?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“I’m afraid that at the moment, I trust only myself in company of Miss Amelia. She’s young and vulnerable, and I don’t want you to have the wrong impression of her.”
“Fear not. I have Miss Amelia in the highest esteem.” Especially because she was brave enough to ask for what she wanted.
A glint lit her dark eyes. Maybe she hadn’t believed him. “That’s good to know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, My Lord.” She curtsied. “I’ve taken enough of your precious time.”
After she walked down the corridor and rounded the corner, Amelia pushed the curtain and laughed. “That was brilliant.”
“I’m not sure Mrs Armstrong believed me, so you’d better go to Florence and tell her about my ruse before Mrs Armstrong questions her.”
“I believe Florence won’t mind.” She loitered there, shuffling her skirts. “Will you think about what I told you?”
Hell yes, he would. He nodded.
“Have a good night then.” After a quick curtsy, she hurried away, swallowed again by the darkness like a dream.
