The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,68

reticule and prayed that Bancroft and his sister would arrive soon. Her nerves felt overset; she had a sudden urge to giggle but dug her nails into the palm of her hand until she was able to overcome such an idiotic notion. When she looked up, Max was leaning against the back of the high backed chair next to the settee, his face quite expressionless.

Amity stared at him, wanting to imprint the memory of him on her mind. He looked well in black, she decided, for it brought out the unusual green in his eyes and made the chestnut color of his hair seem richer. His cravat, the work of the indefatigable Wilberforce, was tied far more ornately than usual. Oh, how handsome he is, she thought as her eyes studied him.

A small furrow creased her forehead as she looked more closely at her guardian. Today there was something different about him. Although he appeared relaxed there was an air of tension to his body, almost as if he was prepared to do battle. He glanced across at her and there was a blaze of intensity in his green eyes that she could not read. Then his mouth flashed in a wide grin that transformed his face and there was such a feeling of happiness apparent in his smile that Amity was quite taken aback. She was saddened that he was so pleased to have her off her hands. When Putnam announced Lord and Lady Paige, she had to force a smile of welcome to her trembling lips.

While they were greeting Max and Lady Grassmere, Amity had a chance to study Ophelia. Her first impression was not promising. The thirty-year-old spinster was wearing a gown of dun-colored sarcenet devoid of frivolous trim or ornamentation. A small round cap of worked muslin covered her hair, except for a thin braid of mousey hair which was bound in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Ophelia might have been considered a neat and trim woman but for the look of disapproval she wore like a banner on her face. Her mouth was pinched into a thin discontented line and her dark eyes held little softness.

Amity trembled as Max led Ophelia over to the settee and waited as he seated her, asking if she were quite comfortable.

"My comfort is of little importance to me," Ophelia said, her voice a heavy monotone.

"My sister is known for her ability to withstand great physical inconvenience," Bancroft stated, pride in his voice. "She has a toughness of spirit that is much to be admired. She will be an excellent example for my future wife," he finished, reddening as he stared at Amity.

"As Brother says, I would hope to be not only an example but a guide for the young lady he favors with his attentions," Ophelia in her turn avoided looking at Amity, her eyes fixed on Bancroft. "We live a simple life, free from the debilitating corruption of luxuries. A lady must learn to live with discomfort."

"A lowering thought, Lady Paige," Max said, his expression very serious although Amity caught a twinkle in the green depths. He seated himself in the high backed chair, cocking his head as if listening. "Ah, here is our tea."

The doors to the salon were thrown open and Putnam entered followed by several footmen bearing trays. Max indicated that the tea tray should be set before Amity whose hands were clenched in her lap. She raised agonized eyes to her guardian and he raised his pocket watch, taking a deep breath to remind her of his note. She ground her teeth at his conspicuous prompting, knowing only too well that his kindness in reminding her, made her aware of her penchant for knocking things over. Blast Max's good intentions! she muttered under her breath. Steeling herself, she reached for the first cup.

"How would you like your tea, Lady Paige?" Amity asked, hoping the woman did not hear the distinct rattle of the china.

"Plain," was the uncompromising answer. "I have not always been able to convince Brother"-she nodded to Bancroft who shifted under her censuring gaze.-" to give up his sweets. I find that most of the younger set cosset themselves with all sorts of confectionaries that do little to improve the health or teach them abstemious ways."

"How true, Lady Paige," Max said. He leaned against the cushioned arm, his hand tapping the cover of the wicker sewing basket beside the chair. "I have warned my ward that a diet