AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We do,” Lila said firmly.
It was like being with her mother again. Amelia reluctantly stood.
“We’ll come together for wine before supper,” Beck said as he turned his attention back to Donovan and his wife.
Amelia followed Lila out of the salon. In the hall, she said, “Well then? What is it that is so urgent we must do it now?”
“You may be cross with me, but if you had to sit through the long list of minor details that Blythe will put to Donovan you would be even crosser. Would you like to hear about the gentlemen you will meet?”
“Will Donovan be at the ball?”
Lila stared at her a moment. “I think he will be minding the girls.”
“Perhaps you ought to invite him.”
Lila sighed. She linked her arm through Amelia’s. “Every woman in England would like to see him invited. But Donovan...would rather spend his time with Mr. Peterborough.”
It took a moment for Amelia to grasp what Lila was not saying. “Do you mean...”
“That he prefers the company of men? Yes.”
Well, that hardly seemed fair.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BLYTHE’SNERVESWEREnot improving later that afternoon. Amelia could hear her in the drawing room, her voice rising above her husband and Donovan. She was across the hall in the small salon, eavesdropping as best she could, for lack of anything better to do.
Blythe was distressed. “I hadn’t wanted more than one hundred and fifty guests, but look at the list, Donovan! It stands at three hundred! We are not ready to host a ball for a princess, and really, darling, why did you ever say you would? Your sister has ties to Alucia. Not Wesloria, for heaven’s sake.”
Amelia stood up and walked to the open door of the salon and leaned against the frame, her arms crossed over her middle, her head cocked toward the drawing room.
“Why?” Beck asked, and there was a moment of silence while he presumably thought about it. “As a favor to Lila, really.”
“Lila!” Blythe said hotly.
“Blythe, love.” This was Donovan. “All will be well.”
“Will it, Donovan?” she asked wistfully.
“Don’t I always tell you the truth?”
“You do,” Blythe conceded. But she didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Darling, you fret too much,” Beck said.
“And you, sir, fret not enough.”
Amelia didn’t see why anyone needed to fret at all. What was a ball, really, but a lot of dancing and drinking and eating? It wasn’t war, for God’s sake. She stepped out into the hall and walked to the foyer, then up two flights of stairs to the nursery.
The nursery was a large room appended to a bedroom and dressing room for Mrs. Hughes. It occupied a significant portion of the top floor. The door was open when Amelia turned down the hall—she could see Mathilda, Maren, and Maisie on the floor with dolls. She assumed Peg-leg Meg and Birdie were napping. She stepped into the nursery and nodded at Mrs. Hughes, who was seated in a chair, hard at her needlework.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Amelia said.
“Good day,” Maisie sang out. Mrs. Hughes rose from her seat to curtsy.
“Forgive the intrusion, but I was wondering who might like to learn to ride a horse today?”
Mathilda looked up from the pile of clothes she was sorting through to put on her doll. “I already know how.”
