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She tried to ignore the nonsensical, slight flare of panic at his question. She wasn’t ready for him to read it.
“I’ve finished the first draft, but I still have much to do in edits. There are some changes I need to make. But these”—she wagged the fingers he still held in his grasp—“are from a letter I was writing. I’m not sure if I should bother sending it at this point or just hand it to her when she arrives. She’d mentioned in her last correspondence that she might be arriving earlier than planned.”
“This is your friend Mary?”
Amelia nodded. “It will be nice to have her here when your friends and family arrive. I admit I’m a little nervous about meeting them.”
His head tilted to one side. “Surely you invited more of your friends?”
“Mary Trenton is my closest friend from when my parents sent me away to school. I never really became close with anyone else.”
“You didn’t have a governess?”
The way he stroked a thumb along her fingers and over her palm sent shivers of awareness through her. It never failed to surprise her how such a simple touch could affect her so much.
“I did, but when the staff started falling ill and one of the maids died, my parents thought it best to send me away from home. That was the last time I saw them.”
He must have realized she was close to tears, because he didn’t press her for further details about that time. Instead, he held on to her hand more firmly, giving her the time she needed to collect herself.
After a minute had passed, she took a deep breath and continued. “I might have picked up a bad habit of dropping into a thick Yorkshire accent to annoy my uncle when I first came to live here. After a while, I was able to leave my anger behind and he became a father figure to me.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “That would explain your accent that night at the tavern. You have no idea how much I chastised myself when something about the way you tilted your head reminded me of that barmaid.”
And here she’d thought she’d been successful in erasing all signs of their first encounter. She’d underestimated this man.
She laid her free hand along his cheek and gazed into his eyes. “If we do wed, we’ll be going to London when you take your seat in the House of Lords. We’ll be able to attend all manner of balls then.”
“Whenwe wed, I have no doubt that will happen. But I hope you don’t plan on accepting every invitation.”
Amelia couldn’t hold back her laugh at his alarm. “Much as I would like to linger here with you, I should probably let you get back to your work. Besides, I know Mrs. Hastings is awaiting my return.”
“You can tell her that I approve of the menus. And that I can’t wait until the day she’ll accept your word on these matters.”
She leaned closer and placed a kiss on his lips. It was meant to be a quick peck but turned into a lingering one.
He stopped her when she started to stand. “Perhaps we should lock the door and forget our duties for the afternoon.”
Anticipation surged at the suggestion. “We can’t. Mrs. Hastings has the keys to every room in this house. She warned me to return right away or she’ll hunt me down. I think she’s afraid I’ll disappear into my writing and forget about the menus.”
He raised one brow. “Shall we test that theory? Do you really think she’ll just barge in here?”
Amelia wanted nothing more than to take him up on his suggestion, but the last thing she wanted was a scandal. Despite how carefully they were behaving toward one another, there was no hiding from the servants the fact that her relationship to the marquess had changed. They were looking at her in a knowing way. And then there were the whispers that ceased when she entered a room. Of course, those whispers had always been present, but she couldn’t help but think everyone was talking about the two of them now.
To avoid temptation, she pulled away and rose from his lap. “You’re too conscientious to put off your work.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to hide the hint of disappointment in his voice. “And how do you know that?”
“You’ve thrown yourself into learning everything about the estate, working late into the night. And…” She waved a hand over the papers spread across his desk. “You won’t be content to take your seat in the House of Lords without learning everything you can about what’s expected of you. That speaks to a personality above reproach. We both know many wouldn’t go to that trouble.”
He gave his head a small shake. “You seem to have a high opinion of me.”
“You know that I do. I wouldn’t have agreed to your proposal if I didn’t.”
He was silent for several seconds. “Would you care to share your northern accent with me?”
She couldn’t hold back her embarrassment at his request. “You’ve already heard it once.”
“I’m curious. I can’t help but wonder if you’ll suddenly morph into the barmaid before my eyes.”
