An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,85

to her. “Which is why I’m so glad that you did.”

The woman laughed at her own joke, then raised the cup to her lips to take a long sip of tea. Not wanting to offend her, Amelia did the same—

She choked. Her cup clanked against the saucer as it dropped in surprise. Her fingers went to her lips at the unexpected burning that ran down her throat.

She stared down into the cup and rasped, “That’s—that’s—”

“The best tea in all of the British Empire, yes.”

“Whiskey!” she coughed out. With just a splash of tea to disguise it.

Beside her, Agnes smiled against the rim of her cup as she took another slow sip, like the cat who’d gotten into the cream. “As I said, the best tea in the British Empire.”

Amelia had always thought those stories of Lady Agnes lacing her tea with real drink were apocryphal. Until now. To think of all those long evenings of bluestocking arguments, while Agnes sat quietly in the rear of the room, sipping her tea and smiling… Amelia suddenly gained a whole new appreciation for the woman.

“Now that we’ve settled in with our tea,” Agnes prompted, “why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just needed a few minutes’ peace.” Amelia took another sip to cover the lie.

Agnes rested a ring-laden hand on her arm. “Pace yourself, my dear, or that tea will go straight to your head.”

Would that be so bad? Men numbed themselves in drink all the time. Why shouldn’t she?

Yet she cautiously returned the whiskey to its saucer.

“Tell me your troubles.” Agnes wagged a finger at her in warning. “And do not dissemble.”

Amelia dropped her gaze to her cup, carefully balanced on her knee. “What makes you think anything is troubling me?”

“And do not prevaricate with me either. I know something is amiss. While discussing Voltaire is never a joyful experience, it certainly doesn’t deserve the look of the gallows that’s been darkening your face all evening.” She slanted her a sideways glance, her expression softening. “A look that wretched must be the fault of love.”

“Pardon?” Amelia startled, the air rushing from her lungs. How had Agnes guessed?

“Only love can make a woman grieve that hard.” Lady Agnes’s voice lowered as she added into her tea, “Believe me, I know.”

“With all due respect, my lady.” That Agnes Sinclair, of all women, would be a kindred spirit— “Not this you don’t.”

“Hmm. Perhaps not. Every love is different.” Agnes thoughtfully traced a fingertip around the rim of her cup. “And mine was a very long time ago. I was only eighteen and incredibly foolish. Not so much younger than you.”

Amelia smiled at that compliment. “I haven’t been eighteen in a good while, my lady.”

“But have you been foolish recently?”

Her shoulders sagged. “A great deal, it seems.”

“Then we are not so different after all. Lost love and missed opportunities curse all women who lead with their hearts.” She paused. “Is that what happened to you?”

With a hollow ache blossoming in her chest, Amelia confided, “Yes, missed love…twice.”

“Then fate must be on your side.”

A half-hysterical laugh strangled in Amelia’s throat. “Fate delights in tormenting me!”

“Fate has given you a second chance, my dear. Why have you not taken it?”

Amelia lowered her gaze to her tea and whispered, “Because it’s impossible.”

Agnes patted Amelia’s arm reassuringly. “I understand impossible love.”

“Your bout of young foolishness, you mean?” Amelia changed the focus of the conversation away from herself. Gladly.

“A captain in the cavalry. The most handsome, most dashing man I’d ever seen in my life. And still is, despite over forty years of meeting all kinds of men since.” Even in the shadows, her eyes sparkled at the memory of him. “Oh, he was simply marvelous! A more true gentleman was never so lowborn.”

“But you didn’t marry him.” Amelia turned toward her on the stone bench. Perhaps Lady Agnes understood after all. “Why not?”

“Because he was utterly impossible for the daughter of an earl.” She took a sip of tea to fortify herself against old wounds. “I was meant to marry well, someone possessing wealth and status. My family would never have let me marry a poor army officer, no matter how much we loved each other, no matter how good a man he was.”

Emotions tightened Amelia’s throat. “You never considered defying them?”

“Heavens no!” she scoffed, as if Amelia had suggested that unicorns existed. “What would have been the good in that? My father refused to give permission for us to wed.”

“But you could have run away and married

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