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“She’s a headache.” I responded, shaking my head. “But she does make me laugh.”
A silence fell between us, and for the first time since we’d arrived at Will’s townhouse, I remembered the events of the day. My conversation with Louisa, and then the conversation I’d overhead between Will and my uncle…
I looked over at him, suddenly unsure of what to say. Now that Cassandra was gone, the room was completely quiet, and it was just the two of us. He was staring back at me, his expression deep yet unreadable.
At the exact same moment, we both began to speak.
I blushed, and he froze, his words trailing off.
“I’m sorry. You continue.” He said, watching me, his eyes startlingly vulnerable.
“No, no. You go first.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, he swallowed, and his expression seemed to shift somehow. It went from vulnerability to… emotionless. As if a door had been open before, even just a crack, but now it was shut.
“I was just going to suggest you go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
I stared at him. He looked back at me, but there was none of the former openness in his eyes.
“Yes, of course. That’s what I was going to say as well.”
He nodded, as if he approved of my statement, and started to walk out of the room, his strides long and powerful.
“Goodnight, Amelia.”
I swallowed, feeling like the small breeze that had been lifting my sails was suddenly dead.
“Goodnight.”
Chapter Twelve
Will
Isleptpoorly,tossingand turning throughout the night. It seemed as if every time I finally fell into a welcome slumber, I would wake up only minutes later, satin bedsheets twisted around my legs.
It was as if a strange anxiety was constantly throbbing in the back of my head – but the exact cause of such an anxiety, I could not fathom… nor did I care to think about it too deeply.
Finally, long past the midnight hour, I stumbled angrily to the liquor cabinet, grasping in the dark for the only medicine that had ever cured me. A long swallow of scotch set my throat on fire, and ushered me into a sweet sleep, like an old friend.
After such a restless night, I was most displeased to find myself awake at dawn, a thin stretch of bright white sunlight streaming through a gap in the heavy velvet drapes. In my late night quest for liquor, I had managed to disturb the drapes, ruining any chance of sleeping in. Instead, I was wide awake – and with a pounding, abominable headache.
Once again, nothing that a little scotch couldn’t cure.
After having a morning drink, I splashed cold water across my face. I dressed myself hastily with little care; I certainly couldn’t be bothered with the valet at this hour. All I could think about was warm breakfast, coffee, perhaps some tobacco… and maybe another drink.
Of course, that all changed when I entered the breakfast room and was confronted with something I hadn’t yet considered: Amelia.
She was sitting at the table, her back straight and proper, a half-eaten plate of food in front of her. There was a newspaper laid out to its right, and, quite preposterously, she was fully dressed. She looked as if she was ready to get up and go to the high street at any moment… as if it wasn’t bloody 6 am.
I stared at her, suddenly feeling embarrassed at my disheveled appearance. And then, confused at my own embarrassment.
Why should I be embarrassed? This was my house. And this wasAmelia, not the Queen, for Christ’s sake.
I sat down, shaking off the strange feeling of insecurity.
“Ah, I didn’t expect you to join me for breakfast so early!” She said, watching me with wide, cheerful eyes.
I felt like she was laughing at me, and I felt a prickle of annoyance.
