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“That is a small comfort, yes,” Nick said dryly. He gestured toward his wife and the older man seated beside her, his shoulder-length white hair and scowl making the earl every bit as off-putting as Charles always thought him to be. “I truly don’t believe she would have agreed to come if she was in any danger of beginning her pains. But it does ease my mind that Robert insists on remaining by her side.”
“The earl has a soft spot for Mrs. Pepper, eh?” Mr. Green asked, nodding along as though in agreeance. “I understand. My Hattie is the light of my life.”
People milled about the seating area, dragging chairs over from wagons, setting up tables laden with food and tents to ward off the blazing sun. A wagon rolled to a stop at the far end of the field and a group of men jumped down from the back, brandishing bats, wickets, and bails.
“Melbury,” Mr. Green said darkly.
The three men stood in a line at the center of the pitch and absorbed the sight of their adversary. The Melbury men were tall, muscular, and wore carefree expressions as if they knew they would win and had no worries on the matter.
Nick ran a hand over his face. “We’ve got our work cut out for us today.”
A carriage rolled to a stop behind the Melbury wagon and a groom hopped from the back to let down the step and open the door. Andrew exited first and turned to assist Miss Green and Amelia.
Amelia stood beside her friend, shaking out her black skirt before smoothing her hands down the front, her angular jawline lifting as she surveyed the crowd. He watched her from a distance, and the moment she laid her eyes on him, she paused. Her face broke into a soft, elegant smile, and she dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment.
Charles’s heart hammered in his chest, Amelia’s smile going straight to it and warming him from the inside out.
He’d heard the references to her when he’d been in London last year—the ton still insisted on calling her by their horrid nickname, the Black Widow. Given her clothing and history, it wasn’t a very original nickname, but it had stuck regardless. Its origin was unknown to him, but if Charles was a betting man, he would wager that the name originated from a jealous mama and her fear that a freshly available, elegantly beautiful Amelia would sweep in and steal another eligible bachelor for herself. It was no wonder she left Town and returned to Graton to live with her brother after the nickname had spread.
Charles was disgusted by Society’s careless joke, but he knew better than they did. Amelia was fiercely loyal, incredibly beautiful, and possessed a heart of gold.
He dipped his chin slightly, acknowledging her, and held her gaze. Hattie said something to Amelia, drawing her attention away from him, but the moment had been enough. He was about to play cricket, and he was bent on doing his best to impress the woman.
