“I’m sure you and Mr. Markham are famished, my lord. We should enjoy the tea while it is still hot.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Mr. Markham said.
Amelia shot him a fond smile, glad for his presence, and moved to the settee. This introduction would have been difficult for her if he weren’t there, but there was something about the older man’s presence that served to comfort her. After her uncle passed away, Mr. Markham had made it a point to visit often. At first it was to help her with the running of the estate, but later she knew he came to visit with her. She might have lost her uncle by blood, but in the intervening years she’d gained an honorary one.
Lowenbrock informed her that he took his tea without milk or sugar. She poured a cup and handed it to him, careful to ensure their hands wouldn’t touch. When she noticed that the man’s hands were bare, she regretted not taking a moment to don her gloves before leaving her room. Something about the thought of him taking her hand, as he’d done when he’d helped her up from that other man’s lap at the tavern, had a flood of heat going through her. She refused to examine why and turned to prepare cups for Mr. Markham and herself.
Mr. Markham did an admirable job of filling in the moments of silence, and so she sat primly, nibbling on the edge of a sandwich while she watched the new marquess swallow one whole. He noticed her regard, and his expression turned sheepish.
She turned to Mr. Markham when he asked her a question, silently berating herself for being caught staring, and pushed her spectacles higher on her nose. If she wasn’t more careful around the new marquess, he’d realize they’d already met.
When the plate of sandwiches was finished, Lowenbrock rose from his chair. “I’ll take my leave now. Markham here has left me with a great deal of paperwork, and I’ve scarce glanced at it. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weston.”
She inclined her head by way of response.
“Markham,” Lowenbrock said. “I’ll see you at dinner. If I have any questions…”
Mr. Markham nodded. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”
Amelia waited until the marquess had left the room before turning to the solicitor. She whispered, “We must speak privately.”
Chapter 8
Markham raised one handto indicate Amelia should remain quiet. After several seconds passed, he walked to the doorway and glanced out into the hallway. He saw the butler leading Lowenbrock to the back of the house where the marquess’s study was located. Lowenbrock might have put off the house tour, but Markham knew he would have to submit to it before dinner.
Satisfied they were safe from being overheard, he returned to his seat. He’d noticed the strange way Lowenbrock had looked at Amelia. It had also been obvious the marquess made her nervous. She was normally composed among strangers, and he’d never seen her appear so meek.
Markham had always been fond of Amelia, and after her uncle’s passing, they’d grown closer. She had no other male relative in the world to look after her, and so he’d stepped into that role. He needed to get to the bottom of the strange tension that existed between the two before he returned to London.
It was Amelia who spoke first, her voice soft. “You didn’t tell me you planned to accompany His Lordship.”
Markham shrugged. “It was a last-minute decision. I had to delay him en route since he hoped to travel through the night. I needed to ensure you had sufficient time to settle in after your trip.”
Amelia tilted her head. “And how did you manage that?”
“You should ask him yourself when you have a moment.” Markham smiled as he imagined the complaints the young man would voice about how often they’d had to stop. Although to give the man his due, he hadn’t protested once during their journey. That spoke volumes about his character.
“We’ve met before.”
He gave his head a shake. She must be mistaken. “That isn’t possible. He’s been on the continent, engaged in the war, for several years. Unless you knew him before he enlisted?”
She removed her glasses as she considered her response. His alarm grew with each passing second.
“I met him in London the night before you told me I had to return home.”
Somehow Markham kept his composure, although it was a near thing. “Would you care to explain the details? Tell me he didn’t see you in that tavern.”
When Amelia refused to meet his gaze, Markham wanted nothing more than to swear.
“I looked different than I do know. I don’t think he recognized me.”
Which explained why Amelia had her hair covered and was wearing her reading glasses. He’d only seen her don the latter when it was late, and never unless she was reading or writing.
“He intervened when one of the other patrons tried to take liberties. We escaped out the back door, and he arranged for the carriage to take me home while he returned to his friends.”
This time he did swear. He never did so in front of his clients, but Amelia had long since become more than that. She was family, which meant she saw the real man hidden behind his persona of elderly family solicitor.
“I told you pretending to be a barmaid was dangerous. Why did he even need tointervene, as you say? I made arrangements to ensure you were safe.”