only a letter from Lord Phillip,” she said, relieved.
Lord Phillip West wrote rather pedestrian letters, and in person he had a bit of a lisp and no title. But his soulful brown eyes … Oh, a young lady could perish in their depths. In addition, he was excellent at the waltz. On the other hand, he only spoke of the weather and the latest fashions and horses, which made polite conversation absurdly simple. She’d practiced on him quite a bit at the beginning of the Season. If only he’d been his older brother Lionel, the Marquis of Durst, he would have been perfect.
That was all she wanted, truly: a well-spoken, handsome man who enjoyed parties and Society, had an estate not ten miles from London, and—for her mother’s sake—could make her a lady. As her mother said, Father being an earl’s second cousin allowed them into Society, but it didn’t make anyone bow or curtsy to them.
She imagined a lifetime of conversation about horses and the weather would be supremely boring, but she would have ready access to London to make up for that. She’d never really conversed with Phillip’s older brother, though, and she was only imagining them to be similar. Oh, what if he read? What if he enjoyed frankly discussing books and politics?
Except she wasn’t all but engaged to the Marquis of Durst. Her man was Scottish and bad-tempered and nearly as tall and broad-shouldered as a mountain. Unless she could convince him to remain in London, this simply wouldn’t work. How could she tolerate a lifetime of isolation from culture and friends and the social gatherings that she would finally be able to enjoy without having to worry about catching the right man’s eye?
After luncheon she and Jane settled into the morning room for her to compose a letter or two to her own friends, and for Jane to finish some embroidery. Any response to Lord Phillip would have to wait at least two days but not more than four; it was important to appear neither too eager nor too disinterested, however unfit the recipient was to become her husband.
Before the clock in the hallway could finish announcing the hour, she heard Hughes pull open the front door. “I do hope it’s the viscount,” Jane whispered. “This subterfuge is beginning to make me nervous.”
“It’s only a little subterfuge,” Amelia-Rose replied in the same tone. “We must show some compassion for a man new to London.”
“You mean new to civilization, I think,” her companion returned.
“Hush.”
“Miss Amelia-Rose, that Niall MacTaggert fellow is here for you again,” the butler said from the morning room doorway. “Do you wish me to send him away?”
“That’s not necessary.” A small smile touched her mouth before she could smother it. Niall had come. That was only because Niall’s presence would mean less weight on her shoulders, she told herself, setting aside her correspondence and picking up her waiting straw bonnet. It was her favorite, decorated with small yellow silk flowers that precisely matched the yellow flowers patterned throughout her light-green walking dress.
“There ye are,” Niall said as she glided into the foyer.
She dipped a curtsy. “Your brother is waiting for us, I assume?” she asked, sending a pointed glance at the butler.
“Aye. He rode ahead and will meet us there,” the Highlander returned smoothly, his nearly colorless green eyes practically dancing.
“And you’ve secured a barouche?”
“See for yerself, adae,” he drawled, offering his arm.
Trying not to notice the hard, taut muscles of his forearm beneath the material of his black coat, she stepped outside beside him. He hadn’t changed clothes since this morning, but being a man—and especially a foreign one—that didn’t matter as much as it would have if she’d stayed in her riding habit. She would never live that down.
He had indeed secured a barouche—along with his sister and Eloise’s betrothed. “Eloise!” she exclaimed, releasing her grip on his arm to hurry forward and hug her friend. “I had no idea you were coming.”
“I refused to hand over the barouche,” Eloise Oswell-MacTaggert replied with a grin, pulling Amelia-Rose onto the seat opposite her. “But Niall explained that it was vital to the day, so I agreed to share.”
Jane still stood on the front step, but her solemn expression didn’t fool Amelia-Rose for a second. “Eloise and I will chaperone each other,” she said, shifting over so Niall could sit beside her. “So you are free to hunt down that hard candy Father brought home yesterday.”
Her companion nodded, sent Niall a last, speculative