nervous?”
“Terrified.”
“Don’t be. You look fabulous.”
Amelia smiled a tremulous smile at her new friend and benefactress, Barbara Middleton.
It was amazing how a chance meeting on a garden bench could render such swift and head-spinning changes.
Barbara had whisked her out of Lord Sidwell’s house, and he’d scarcely argued about it—as if he’d been relieved to have her take charge of Amelia. She’d been transported to Barbara’s home and ensconced in a comfortable bedchamber. Then Barbara had begun the task of altering Amelia into someone she really wasn’t.
For the prior three days, Amelia had been plucked and massaged and measured and trimmed. Seamstresses had arrived to modify some of Barbara’s old clothes. She and Amelia were close in height, but Barbara was more voluptuous, so there’d been extensive snipping and tucking.
Amelia wasn’t certain how she felt about the whole affair. Her circumstances were no more settled than they had been. She was living with another stranger, although Barbara was much more pleasant than Lord Sidwell, but Amelia was being treated like a pet, as if groomed to prance about on the end of a leash.
Lord Sidwell had extracted Amelia’s promise that she’d spend a month trying to entice Mr. Drake, and she would honor that vow. But after the month had passed, what would become of her? Though Barbara had been kind and generous, Amelia scarcely knew her, so she was in no position to overstay her welcome.
Amelia was coasting on Barbara’s charity and pretending there was no deadline looming. What she would do when that deadline arrived was anybody’s guess.
She’d written to Rose and Evangeline, telling them what had happened, but she hadn’t heard back from either one. They appeared to have vanished, and she wondered how she’d ever contact them again. She’d hoped they might provide assistance later on, after Barbara was through with her, but if Amelia couldn’t locate them, she’d be in even deeper trouble.
So what was Amelia thinking? She’d always viewed herself as smart and pragmatic, but she was making wild, irrational decisions, flitting from one idea to the next without pausing to ponder what was best.
After all their extensive preparation, Barbara had declared Amelia ready for a public entrance. They were riding in a carriage, and it rumbled to a halt. The footmen were lowering the step as Amelia tugged on the curtain and peeked out at the large mansion towering over them.
“Are you sure Mr. Drake will be here?” Amelia asked.
“I ordered my son, John, to include him on the guest list.”
“He can be so obstinate. Will he show up?”
“I expect he will. John and Lucas’s brother, Aaron, were school chums, and Lucas is always broke. He’ll come just to eat the food and drink the liquor.”
“What a sad comment on the state of his life.”
“It’s common enough for men of his station. I survived for years by letting other people feed me.”
Barbara was a notorious figure in London. As a young bride and mother, she’d deserted her husband and baby, had fled to the Continent with a lover who’d promptly abandoned her. Then she’d engaged in a series of infamous affairs, moving from country to country and making a spectacle of herself wherever she went.
Finally, after nearly three decades of wandering, she’d traveled back to England, and after a rough patch, had been welcomed by her son, John Middleton, Lord Penworth. She probably wasn’t the most appropriate person to introduce Amelia into London society, but then again, Barbara was shameless and brazen, and she was teaching those traits to Amelia so Amelia could use them on poor, unsuspecting Lucas Drake.
She supposed she should have shunned Barbara, and in saner times, she would have. In saner times, they would never have crossed paths. Yet Barbara had offered to help, and Amelia was desperate. Her only other option was to return to Lord Sidwell’s home, to stagger
“Terrified.”
“Don’t be. You look fabulous.”
Amelia smiled a tremulous smile at her new friend and benefactress, Barbara Middleton.
It was amazing how a chance meeting on a garden bench could render such swift and head-spinning changes.
Barbara had whisked her out of Lord Sidwell’s house, and he’d scarcely argued about it—as if he’d been relieved to have her take charge of Amelia. She’d been transported to Barbara’s home and ensconced in a comfortable bedchamber. Then Barbara had begun the task of altering Amelia into someone she really wasn’t.
For the prior three days, Amelia had been plucked and massaged and measured and trimmed. Seamstresses had arrived to modify some of Barbara’s old clothes. She and Amelia were close in height, but Barbara was more voluptuous, so there’d been extensive snipping and tucking.
Amelia wasn’t certain how she felt about the whole affair. Her circumstances were no more settled than they had been. She was living with another stranger, although Barbara was much more pleasant than Lord Sidwell, but Amelia was being treated like a pet, as if groomed to prance about on the end of a leash.
Lord Sidwell had extracted Amelia’s promise that she’d spend a month trying to entice Mr. Drake, and she would honor that vow. But after the month had passed, what would become of her? Though Barbara had been kind and generous, Amelia scarcely knew her, so she was in no position to overstay her welcome.
Amelia was coasting on Barbara’s charity and pretending there was no deadline looming. What she would do when that deadline arrived was anybody’s guess.
She’d written to Rose and Evangeline, telling them what had happened, but she hadn’t heard back from either one. They appeared to have vanished, and she wondered how she’d ever contact them again. She’d hoped they might provide assistance later on, after Barbara was through with her, but if Amelia couldn’t locate them, she’d be in even deeper trouble.
So what was Amelia thinking? She’d always viewed herself as smart and pragmatic, but she was making wild, irrational decisions, flitting from one idea to the next without pausing to ponder what was best.
After all their extensive preparation, Barbara had declared Amelia ready for a public entrance. They were riding in a carriage, and it rumbled to a halt. The footmen were lowering the step as Amelia tugged on the curtain and peeked out at the large mansion towering over them.
“Are you sure Mr. Drake will be here?” Amelia asked.
“I ordered my son, John, to include him on the guest list.”
“He can be so obstinate. Will he show up?”
“I expect he will. John and Lucas’s brother, Aaron, were school chums, and Lucas is always broke. He’ll come just to eat the food and drink the liquor.”
“What a sad comment on the state of his life.”
“It’s common enough for men of his station. I survived for years by letting other people feed me.”
Barbara was a notorious figure in London. As a young bride and mother, she’d deserted her husband and baby, had fled to the Continent with a lover who’d promptly abandoned her. Then she’d engaged in a series of infamous affairs, moving from country to country and making a spectacle of herself wherever she went.
Finally, after nearly three decades of wandering, she’d traveled back to England, and after a rough patch, had been welcomed by her son, John Middleton, Lord Penworth. She probably wasn’t the most appropriate person to introduce Amelia into London society, but then again, Barbara was shameless and brazen, and she was teaching those traits to Amelia so Amelia could use them on poor, unsuspecting Lucas Drake.
She supposed she should have shunned Barbara, and in saner times, she would have. In saner times, they would never have crossed paths. Yet Barbara had offered to help, and Amelia was desperate. Her only other option was to return to Lord Sidwell’s home, to stagger
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