“Is there anything I can do while we wait for dinner to be served?”
He turned at the sound of Amelia’s voice. She wore a rose-colored dress that brought out the color in her cheeks and underscored her beauty. Fortunately, it had a modest décolletage. The last thing he needed was for his friends to become overly friendly with the woman he intended to wed.
He wasn’t aware he was frowning until he saw Amelia’s smile vanish. “Did you want me to take dinner in my room tonight?”
He reached for her hands, holding them lightly within his, and shook his head. “Of course not. I was just thinking that with how beautiful you look I’ll have a difficult time trying to keep my friends from attempting to monopolize your attention.”
She smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be able to resist their charms.”
“You’d better,” he said, somehow managing to smooth out his frown.
The sound of a throat being cleared had him dropping her hands and stepping back. He looked up to find Hastings standing in the hallway, his expression impassive. Well, it wasn’t as though the entire staff wasn’t already gossiping about them.
“Yes?”
“Your guests have been shown to their rooms, and their valets are on their way to attend them. Was there anything else you required before dinner is served?”
John looked down at his own attire and released a frustrated breath. There would be no doing things by half measures now that they had guests staying with them. “I was just heading upstairs myself. You can ask Oliver to attend me. The man will be thrilled to finally have the opportunity to ‘dress me properly.’”
He exited the room to the sound of Amelia’s amused laughter.
Chapter 27
Time to herself as she waitedfor dinner did nothing to ease Amelia’s nerves. She and John had agreed that they wouldn’t reveal their relationship until midway through the ball, but that didn’t calm her in the least. She wanted his friends to like her, but she wasn’t nearly as witty in person as she was on the page. She feared they would find her lacking in all manner of ways. For that reason, she’d taken great care when dressing to look her best.
She needed a distraction, and what better way to take her mind from the upcoming dinner than to immerse herself in someone else’s world. With that goal in mind, she made her way down the hall to the library.
Her uncle hadn’t been a fan of fiction, but over the years she’d used a portion of her funds to buy some of the more popular titles. She wandered over to the shelf he’d set aside for her books and let out a sigh. She’d already read through her meager collection. She’d hoped to visit one of the circulating libraries when she was in London to learn what members of the ton were clamoring for, but her visit had been cut short before she’d been able to do so.
She settled for a reread ofThe Castle of Otranto. It was a slim volume and had started the trend of what many called “horrid” novels. She preferred the termGothicherself, hating the judgment inherent in the more popularly used term. Her gaze fell onThe Mysteries of Udolpho, and she took that book to set aside for later. She’d have to wait until she had more time to read the much longer book by Mrs. Radcliffe.
She was halfway through Horace Walpole’s story when she was drawn out of the fictional world of a haunted castle and family curses by the sound of loud male voices. John and his friends were coming down the stairs together.
With a deep breath, she put the book aside. The story had served to take her mind from the upcoming meeting, but her nerves came rushing back as she made her way to the drawing room.
She hesitated on the threshold, examining the men who hadn’t yet noticed her arrival. They were laughing at something one of them had said, and it warmed her heart to see the man she loved enjoying the company of his friends. She was probably biased in thinking he was the most handsome man in the room, but the way his fair hair shone in the candlelight never failed to capture her attention.
The other men were dark-haired and also attractive. John had told her they were unattached, and she could well imagine the stir the three men would cause at the ball.
As if sensing her perusal, John glanced her way. He raised one brow and waited for her to gather the courage to join them. He must have sensed her trepidation, because he didn’t draw their attention to her.
After taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped into the room.
John’s friends turned her way, and she found herself the subject of their scrutiny. She wanted to examine their expressions to see if they recognized her from that night at the tavern but knew it would seem too forward. Instead, she waited as John made his way to her side.
“Miss Amelia Weston,” he said with a bow. “Allow me to introduce these two ruffians to you. My good friends Viscount Ashford and Baron Cranston. Gentlemen, I present to you Miss Amelia Weston, niece to the late Marquess of Lowenbrock.”
They inclined their heads, and she curtsied, doing her best to ignore her nerves. Not since that evening at the tavern had she been the subject of such intense male scrutiny. Unlike that time, however, she didn’t feel that these men had any ill intentions toward her. They were definitely curious, but they gave no indication of recognizing her.
Ashford smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weston. Lowenbrock didn’t tell us that the marquess had such a lovely niece or that we’d have the pleasure of meeting you today.”
John had warned her that his friends would be flirtatious but that their attention would be harmless. They’d never force themselves on someone who didn’t welcome it.
“Well, he has told me quite a bit about you and Lord Cranston.”
Cranston chuckled. “We’re in trouble now, Ashford.”
The viscount raised a shoulder. “I welcome the opportunity to get to know you.”