and not return for the remainder of the day. She worked the hours in solitude. Rarely did he speak to her during the evening meals, choosing to converse almost exclusively with Miss Foxworth, who proved to be a most captive audience. He’d committed the grievance, yet she was being ignored. More glaring evidence of his arrogance.
“Lady Amelia?”
Amelia started at the sound of her name, quickly turning to view the pale, wisp of a woman hovering at the entrance of the drawing room. Speak—or in this instance think—of the devil and she was sure to appear.
Since Miss Foxworth’s arrival at Stoneridge Hall, she’d continued to follow Amelia’s advice, managing to unearth from her wardrobe brighter colored dresses more suitable to her complexion. Today, she wore a chartreuse dress with raglan sleeves and a full, billowing skirt.
“Is anything wrong? You’ve been so very quiet lately.” Miss Foxworth edged into the room and daintily sidestepped a rogue footstool.
Amelia summoned a small smile. “Nothing really. You’ve just caught me deep in thought.”
“Are you missing home?”
“Yes, perhaps a little.” At this point, lying was easier than a game of twenty questions … or the truth.
“May we sit? I would like to speak with you.” Miss Foxworth motioned to the dark blue sofa flanked by a balloon chair on her left.
Dear Lord, this all sounded quite ominous. Amelia took a seat in the balloon chair and tamped down any show of apprehension by busily arranging her skirts around her.
Miss Foxworth sat on the edge of the sofa with her hands clasped neatly on her lap, her expression earnest. “I would like to assure you that Lord Armstrong has no designs on me whatsoever.”
Amelia’s jaw went slack. Of all the things she had expected the woman to say, this hadn’t even made her mental list. “Pardon?”
Miss Foxworth studied her with sage eyes. “From the beginning, I’ve gotten the impression you don’t particularly care for my association with Lord Armstrong. Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I certainly don’t fault you for your reaction. I might be moved to act in a similar fashion for his affection. That is why I felt the need to assure you, he cares nothing for me—at least not in a romantic sense.”
Amelia choked out a laugh, endeavoring for a smooth recovery from the shock of the woman’s words—and the accuracy of her observation. “You are very much mistaken. Nothing could be further from the truth.” She then held her breath to see if a bolt of lightning should appear in the crystalline, blue, winter sky. After a minute pause without the scent of burning flesh, she continued. “And truly, it is none of my concern what the true nature of your relationship is with the viscount.”
Miss Foxworth now appeared puzzled. “So your grievance is with Lord Armstrong, not me?”
“No—I mean—yes—what I mean is my grievance is with no one. Lord Armstrong is free to associate with as many women as he pleases. It is not my concern.” Of all the characteristics Amelia would have attributed to Miss Foxworth, tenacity hadn’t been one of them.
“You see, we’ve been getting on nicely since our time in London. I just didn’t want—”
“Truly, Miss Foxworth, I don’t think it’s any of my—”
“Does your disapproval of him stem from what you said at the ball?”
Dear Lord, did the woman know when to stop?
“If that is the case, I must disabuse you of the notion that Lord Armstrong indiscriminately goes about town bedding any and every woman who happens to cross his path. That is your assumption, is it not?” Miss Foxworth appeared so utterly confident of what she spoke. As if Amelia were the sadly ignorant girl and it was she who was schooled and learned in the inner workings of human behavior. Amelia didn’t very much like the feeling.
“The man is hardly a saint, so if that’s what you hope to convince me of, please save your breath.”
Miss Foxworth nodded. “That is true. He isn’t a saint, but then show me a man who is. Lord Armstrong is kind, loyal, and generous beyond fault. Were you aware he gave my brother the money to buy his commission? He is also paying for the lease on our flat in town. He has been doing so since Marcus entered the military.” Her voice softened with emotion. “Thomas Armstrong has been a saint to Marcus and me, and we owe him a great deal.”
She gave a short self-deprecating laugh. “Don’t mistake me, it would be far too