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“Then you will likely be glad to finally have met him,” Amelia said, unable to tamp down her mirth. “Hattie, it will all happen when it is meant to. I should think that bothering Mrs. Fowler with this will not lead you anywhere good.”
“Because you don’t trust her.”
Amelia hadn’t planned to say so aloud, but yes, Hattie was correct. Instead, she wiped her mouth with the corner of her napkin and set it on the table beside her plate before rising and stepping away from her chair. “I must fetch my bonnet.” Pausing, she registered that her friend’s pretty green gown was not a riding habit. Hadn’t Hattie traveled over on horseback? Amelia had no interest in riding as far as Melbury on a horse that wasn’t Howard. “I did plan to take the carriage today.”
Hattie appeared unperturbed by this. “May I leave my horse in your stables? I would prefer to go with you.”
“Of course.” Amelia started walking from the breakfast room, Hattie close by her side.
“You cannot fob me off so easily, you know.” Hattie always had claimed a frightfully good memory. “Why don’t you trust Mrs. Fowler?”
They made it to the entryway and light poured through the open door as a footman opened it, swathing them in warmth. Amelia flicked her hand through the air to indicate that she did not need to go outside yet, but her footman remained where he was, door open. He looked between her and the front steps, hesitating. Was someone arriving?
“It is not in my nature to trust in things that are unexplainable. I simply cannot believe it.” Except that wasn’t entirely true. But Amelia wanted it to be.
“Fine. I won’t press you further. But someday when I do fall in love with a fox of a man, I will prove you wrong.”
A chuckle burst from Amelia’s chest. “I do hope that is the case.”
Footsteps mounted the outside marble staircase, and Amelia shifted, her breath rising and stalling in her chest. When Andrew stepped into the entryway, her shoulders deflated. Foolish woman. Had she truly believed Charles was about to come through the door?
Andrew paused, glancing between the women. “This is a nice welcome. I think you should do this more often.”
Hattie laughed, the high, musical sound ringing off the walls and echoing around them. “I should think that most dull, to stand about waiting endlessly for you to step through the door simply so you might be greeted warmly.”
Amelia’s gaze slipped to the footman waiting against the wall, his white powdered wig making him look far older than she knew him to be.
“Indeed,” Andrew agreed. He never had been one to sit around lazily or waste time in idle pursuits. Except chess, of course, but that wasn’t entirely idle. “The carriage should be ready in a quarter of an hour.”
Amelia nodded, turning for the stairs. “I need my bonnet.”
She paused halfway up the stairs when she noticed that Hattie hadn’t followed her but had remained in the entryway speaking to Andrew. A glint shone in her deep brown eyes, her mouth creased into an amused smile. Oh, heavens. Was the woman mad? Just because Andrew had red hair, that did not mean he was her one true love.
Shaking her head and letting out a sigh that was equal parts exasperation and affection, Amelia trailed her hand up the bannister as she mounted the stairs. If Hattie was bent on making herself up to Andrew, this was bound to be a very long day.
* * *
Charles stepped onto the pitch, the soft muddy grass squelching with each footstep as the sun beat down upon them. Well, that was just great. The slightly muddy earth was not ideal for cricket and would lend itself to an interesting—and likely messy—match. Particularly when the men from Melbury weren’t known for their fair play.
Which was partially why the betting had been tipped so heavily in their favor, he assumed.
At least the clouds of yesterday had abated, giving them full, hot sun. Perhaps the ground would dry some by the time they began to play.
“What do you boys think?” Mr. Green asked, slapping Charles on the back, his mouth turned down in a solemn frown. “Do you think you can manage it on a sodden pitch?”
“We’ll have to,” Nick Pepper said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. The sunlight shone on his blond hair, making it look like golden straw. “This is not the muddiest field we’ve been forced to play on. I think we’ll do well enough.”
Mr. Green gave them a look that spoke his feelings, his gray eyebrows lifted in opposition. He would not say so aloud for fear of being overheard, most likely, but it was a different sort of match to prepare oneself for when one knew the opposition wasn’t entirely above board in their behavior or tactics.
“And with you calling our outs,” Charles said, giving the older man an equally rueful smile, “we cannot lose.”
“Or so we hope,” Nick added. He glanced to the table set at the edge of the pitch, his pregnant wife seated under a canopy shade and fanning herself.
“You could not persuade her to remain home?” Charles asked.
“You cannot persuade my Giulia to do anything she is not keen to do. She’s blasted mad coming all the way out here for this wretched match, but she wouldn’t miss it.” A loving smile tipped his lips. “And I cannot deny her anything.”
“At least Andrew plans to attend if the worst should happen,” Charles said. Not that he expected it to, of course, but Mrs. Pepper looked quite round and uncomfortable. Shifting in her seat, she pressed against her stomach as though attempting to move the position of the babe within.
