to her knee beneath the table.
Amelia hadn’t wanted this dinner. When the duchess first proposed it, she’d declined. She wasn’t eager to announce her engagement to the world when she wasn’t yet officially free to remarry, when the wedding might still be a year or two away. After all, she’d willingly signed her name to the parish register when she’d married Aaron, and even though she could claim grounds of fraud, legalities had to be met, investigations made, intent publicly declared…scandal to survive. A conversation with Merritt Rivers about what was in store for her legally proved how very long she would have to wait before she could become Pearce’s wife.
But Pearce had persuaded her into accepting the duchess’s invitation.
He wanted this for her, a happy celebration with the people who had become family to them. Marcus and Danielle, the duke’s sister Claudia and her husband, Danielle’s Aunt Harriett, Clayton Elliott…even little Pippa, Marcus’s niece, had joined them earlier before being whisked up to the nursery by her nanny. The only person missing was Merritt, who had suddenly left London two days ago without explanation, except to say that he’d return in time for the party. Unfortunately, he’d missed it.
Amelia hadn’t realized until that evening how much this new family meant to her. Frederick was the only blood family she had, and now he was gone. America or the Continent, India or the moon—she had no idea where, but she knew he would never return. Despite the hell he’d put her through, she’d done him one last favor by convincing Charles Varnham to rescind all of his accusations and saved her brother’s reputation in absentia. Varnham reluctantly agreed, his decision helped along by assurances from Marcus Braddock and Pearce that Frederick Howard would never return.
“Before we allow Miss Howard to be formally engaged,” Clayton Elliott piped up, “I think she needs to know about that time in Spain when Pearce kidnapped General Pemberton’s dog and held it ransom for its weight in whiskey.”
Amelia stifled a laugh at Pearce’s expense. All evening they’d been regaling her with stories of his army days, and she’d joined in with stories of her own from their youth in Birmingham.
“It was top-notch whiskey, I’ll have you know.” Pearce stretched his arm across Amelia’s chair back. “And why does she need to know that about me, exactly?”
“Because it proves you can’t be trusted with small animals,” Clayton answered.
“Or whiskey,” Marcus interjected.
When unchecked laughter bubbled up from her, Clayton arched an exaggerated brow in her direction. “We only want to protect you, to make certain that you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know exactly who I’m marrying.” She dared to touch Pearce’s cheek. “My soul mate.” Her voice softened as she looked deeply into his eyes. “And I love him with all my soul.”
At that, Aunt Harriett let out a sob, and both Danielle and Claudia reached for their husbands’ hands. And their handkerchiefs.
“Well then, on that happy declaration,” Danielle announced as she rose to her feet, bringing everyone in the room to theirs, “shall we venture to the drawing room for coffee?”
“If you don’t mind, Duchess,” Pearce said as he took Amelia’s arm and looped it around his, “I’d like to steal Amelia away for a moment alone.”
“Of course I don’t mind. The library should be lit. Join us when you’re ready.” Danielle’s eyes gleamed knowingly as she added, “Take your time.”
Amelia dug her nails into Pearce’s forearm as he led her down the hall. “You said a moment alone.”
“Yes, I did.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the perceptive smiles the women wore as they left the dining room, the men lingering behind for a glass of port. “They all think you meant…a moment alone.”
“Yes, they do.” He grinned as he led her inside the library and closed the door, then backed her across the room until her bottom hit the back of the settee. He leaned in, his mouth lingering temptingly above hers. “But while I would love nothing more than a moment alone…” He kissed her heatedly and groaned against her lips. “Several moments, in fact…” He broke the kiss and stepped back, sucking in a deep breath of restraint. “What I need is to talk to you privately.”
Dread twisted inside her. “Is something wrong? Is it Scepter?”
The men of the Armory were getting closer in their hunt for the group’s leaders, but progress had been slow. Clayton Elliott and his Home Office agents were going through the list of men Frederick had