to gain in height and womanly virtues. But this young lady that wrapped her arms—tightly—around his waist…
“La! Do be serious, Jack! It’s me! Amanda!”
“
Amanda?
” he couldn’t help but cry. Jack immediately pulled away and stared down into her face. “But Amanda’s the youngest!”
She laughed at that, which was followed by a decidedly unladylike snort. She covered her mouth quickly.
“My governess keeps telling me I have to
not
laugh if I’m going to laugh like that—but it’s too funny, you thinking I’m Sarah!”
Once given the benefit of a longer look, Jack recognized the blond curls down the back and slightly shorter dress style that exemplified youth. And he recognized the dimples that had been ever present on the child Amanda shining forth on the cheeks of the young lady in front of him.
“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, Miss Amanda,” he teased as he gave a smart bow. “The last time I saw you, you barely reached my waist. I didn’t expect anyone quite so tall.”
Amanda immediately hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself smaller. “I can’t help it,” she said mournfully. “Mother is afraid I’ll be taller than any gentleman who might wish to dance with me. Miss Pritchett—our governess, you know, although, she’s only my governess now—has recommended they restrict my food so I stop growing.”
Jack refrained from shaking his head. Talking to females—especially fifteen-year-old ones—was trickier than one expected.
“Well, I still have some inches on you, so I suspect you should feel safe to keep eating for a few weeks or so.”
Amanda giggled, and slowly her shoulders came back up to her full (remarkable) height.
“What brings you to visit?” Amanda asked, as she waved at the butler, who had magically reappeared and seemed to be eyeing Jack’s trunk with distaste. “Take that to one of the guest rooms, please, Dalton,” she instructed, before a quizzical look crossed her brow. “Whichever one my mother would say. You are staying, aren’t you?” she turned her gaze to Jack.
“Your mother wrote me, and asked me to do so,” Jack replied.
“She did?” she replied, then shook her head, making her curls bounce. “I wonder that she didn’t tell me—but then again, no one tells me anything anymore.”
“Anymore?” he replied as he offered Amanda his arm, which she took with girlish joy. They moved with absolutely no purpose whatsoever to the drawing room.
“Or ever, really,” Amanda sighed.
The first, and indeed only thing, that he noticed in the drawing room was the overwhelming amount of flower bouquets, of every variety, on every surface. If Amanda had been wearing mourning clothes, he would have thought Whigby was right and there had been a funeral.
“Ever since
the Event
,” Amanda continued, hardly pausing for breath, “everyone gets very quiet when I come into the room. I saw my mother elbow my father in the stomach when they
finally
started talking about something interesting!”
The Event. The importance with which Amanda imbued those words made Jack pause.
“And then, when we came to town again,” Amanda continued blithely, “or, more accurately, after Everything Changed, everyone’s been too busy to think of telling me what on earth is going on!”
Jack followed Amanda’s conversation as best he could. Again, he could hear the emphasis she gave the words “everything changed.” Talking to teenagers was like learning a new language, and Jack had to be careful to pick up on the cues.Finally, he asked, “So you don’t know why there are a half-dozen gentlemen loitering on your doorstep?”
“Oh, them.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “They’re
always
there. You would think they would take the hint, but panting after Sarah is something of a badge of honor, I gather.”
“Panting after Sarah?”
“Mama likes to think I don’t know of course, but Bridget constantly grumbles about how Sarah’s swains have made it so
“La! Do be serious, Jack! It’s me! Amanda!”
“
Amanda?
” he couldn’t help but cry. Jack immediately pulled away and stared down into her face. “But Amanda’s the youngest!”
She laughed at that, which was followed by a decidedly unladylike snort. She covered her mouth quickly.
“My governess keeps telling me I have to
not
laugh if I’m going to laugh like that—but it’s too funny, you thinking I’m Sarah!”
Once given the benefit of a longer look, Jack recognized the blond curls down the back and slightly shorter dress style that exemplified youth. And he recognized the dimples that had been ever present on the child Amanda shining forth on the cheeks of the young lady in front of him.
“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, Miss Amanda,” he teased as he gave a smart bow. “The last time I saw you, you barely reached my waist. I didn’t expect anyone quite so tall.”
Amanda immediately hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself smaller. “I can’t help it,” she said mournfully. “Mother is afraid I’ll be taller than any gentleman who might wish to dance with me. Miss Pritchett—our governess, you know, although, she’s only my governess now—has recommended they restrict my food so I stop growing.”
Jack refrained from shaking his head. Talking to females—especially fifteen-year-old ones—was trickier than one expected.
“Well, I still have some inches on you, so I suspect you should feel safe to keep eating for a few weeks or so.”
Amanda giggled, and slowly her shoulders came back up to her full (remarkable) height.
“What brings you to visit?” Amanda asked, as she waved at the butler, who had magically reappeared and seemed to be eyeing Jack’s trunk with distaste. “Take that to one of the guest rooms, please, Dalton,” she instructed, before a quizzical look crossed her brow. “Whichever one my mother would say. You are staying, aren’t you?” she turned her gaze to Jack.
“Your mother wrote me, and asked me to do so,” Jack replied.
“She did?” she replied, then shook her head, making her curls bounce. “I wonder that she didn’t tell me—but then again, no one tells me anything anymore.”
“Anymore?” he replied as he offered Amanda his arm, which she took with girlish joy. They moved with absolutely no purpose whatsoever to the drawing room.
“Or ever, really,” Amanda sighed.
The first, and indeed only thing, that he noticed in the drawing room was the overwhelming amount of flower bouquets, of every variety, on every surface. If Amanda had been wearing mourning clothes, he would have thought Whigby was right and there had been a funeral.
“Ever since
the Event
,” Amanda continued, hardly pausing for breath, “everyone gets very quiet when I come into the room. I saw my mother elbow my father in the stomach when they
finally
started talking about something interesting!”
The Event. The importance with which Amanda imbued those words made Jack pause.
“And then, when we came to town again,” Amanda continued blithely, “or, more accurately, after Everything Changed, everyone’s been too busy to think of telling me what on earth is going on!”
Jack followed Amanda’s conversation as best he could. Again, he could hear the emphasis she gave the words “everything changed.” Talking to teenagers was like learning a new language, and Jack had to be careful to pick up on the cues.Finally, he asked, “So you don’t know why there are a half-dozen gentlemen loitering on your doorstep?”
“Oh, them.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “They’re
always
there. You would think they would take the hint, but panting after Sarah is something of a badge of honor, I gather.”
“Panting after Sarah?”
“Mama likes to think I don’t know of course, but Bridget constantly grumbles about how Sarah’s swains have made it so
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