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She laughed. “I’ll miss you too. Do you know when you’ll be leaving?”
“I thought I’d stay a day or two. These old bones can’t handle too much travel these days, and the trip from London is a long one.” He closed one eye in a teasing wink, and she laughed.
He hated to admit, even to himself, that there was more than an ounce of truth to the statement. Gone were the days of traveling all over England to visit his clients. Fortunately, he’d been able to transition most of his clients to the younger members of his firm. Lowenbrock was his last remaining client, and he planned to continue overseeing matters pertaining to the marquisate as long as Amelia wasn’t settled.
His thoughts returned to the young man who’d taken over the estate. At seven and twenty, he was only two years older than Amelia. He was pleasing enough to look at, and it appeared his character was above reproach. Perhaps the formerly impoverished John Evans could step in and take over that role for him, and not just as Amelia’s guardian.
There was definitely something in the air between the marquess and Amelia. But given what she’d told him about the events at the tavern, it would be best if they proceeded slowly.
Yes, he’d have to keep an eye on these two. He imagined that his young charge was intent on avoiding the marquess. He’d have to bring them together to see whether there was a spark of attraction between them.
He stood when Amelia excused herself and settled back into his chair. Yes, perhaps he’d finally see Amelia settled and the new marquess on the way to producing the heir that was so desperately needed.
Chapter 9
Amelia scowled at the lace capand spectacles that rested on top of her dressing table. She’d discarded them as soon as she returned to her bedroom, but she could no longer ignore them. It was time to go downstairs for dinner.
A large part of her wanted to avoid Lowenbrock, and she considered excusing herself with a headache and asking for a tray to be sent up to her room. But the logical side of her nature wouldn’t allow her to hide. Once he became accustomed to her presence, he’d discard any notion she could be the barmaid Molly.
As she reached for the cap and spectacles she hoped would conceal their prior acquaintance, she told herself she wouldn’t have to wear them forever. It was too soon for her to appear as she normally did. After some time had passed, his memory of that night would fade. If he did think about the barmaid he’d met and wondered about her resemblance to Molly, he’d assume he wasn’t remembering the details of that evening clearly. He’d been drinking after all.
But for tonight it was too soon to tempt fate. With a sigh, she pinned the white cap in place and perched the reading glasses on her nose. Her maid had already helped her dress for dinner in a pale blue dress that flowed loose about her figure.
Pushing down the nerves that fluttered in her belly, Amelia made her way to the drawing room. When she arrived, both Lowenbrock and Mr. Markham were waiting for her. They stood when she entered the room, and she took in the marquess’s formal attire. His dark blue coat and waistcoat served to accentuate the man’s good looks. His blond hair, while short, had a hint of curl that gave him a boyish quality that only added to his appeal.
She dipped into a curtsy. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Markham said. “I’ve only just come down myself.”
Lowenbrock smiled his welcome, one corner of his mouth hiking up higher than the other. Amelia was grateful she’d never been one to blush or lose her composure when faced with an attractive man. The marquess was probably accustomed to rendering women into tittering fools, but she was determined not to be one of those women.
Still, she found herself at a loss as to what to say. The moment of awkwardness passed quickly though when a footman arrived to announce the meal was ready to be served.
“It appears your timing is excellent,” Lowenbrock said.
“One of the advantages of being raised in this house. I’m well acquainted with how it’s run.”
Lowenbrock held out his arm, and she hesitated a moment before taking it. She chastised herself for being silly. She’d done this many times with her uncle, and even, on occasion, with other young men, although never with someone to whom she felt an attraction. The situation left her more than a little unsettled.
She tried not to think about the romantic notions she’d developed for this man after he’d saved her and escorted her to his carriage so she could be delivered home safely. Her thoughts that night had been filled with what-ifs. But even as she spun fairy-tale scenarios in her mind, she hadn’t allowed her fantasies to carry her away. Instead, she’d used those fantasies as inspiration for the characters in the book she was currently writing. Now she found herself in the uncomfortable position of having to remind herself that the character she’d created wasn’t this man at all. And Amelia certainly wasn’t her heroine.
She found it difficult to remind herself of that fact as she gazed up at him where he stood next to her, looking impossibly handsome as he smiled down at her before leading her from the room.
When he leaned down to whisper something in her ear, she held her breath.
“You’ll have to help me find the dining room. I’m not used to living in such a large house, and I’m afraid I haven’t learned the layout yet.”
Amelia released her breath with a small huff of laughter as she discreetly tugged his arm to indicate they should turn right at the central foyer.
Dinner was more elaborate than normal. It was clear that Cook was trying to impress the new marquess. She made a mental note to ask Lowenbrock about his preferences so she could adjust the menus while he was in residence. She didn’t normally eat such a large meal in the evening, but she knew that men tended to have heartier appetites. Especially when they were so broad and muscular…
She gave her head a slight shake to clear it of wayward thoughts. Later, when she was making notes for her book, she could allow herself all manner of fancy. But right now she had to keep from embarrassing herself.
“How are you finding the estate?” Mr. Markham asked.
Lowenbrock furrowed his brow. “Massive. I lost my way when coming down for dinner. One of the maids found me wandering in the east wing. Or at least I think it was the east wing. It might have been the west wing. North? South?”
Amelia couldn’t hold back a giggle, delighted the man had a sense of humor.
