Silence settled over the carriage as the women watched the men thunder past. Sebastian’s wave was accompanied by a cheeky grin as he swept by the open carriage window, before disappearing over a low slung wall, and heading off across the fields after Dominic.
Amelia settled back with a sigh.
“Boys will be boys,” Isobel muttered, studying her new friend curiously. “It’s nice to have another female to talk to.”
“I know. The men are very nice, but sometimes only a woman will do.” Despite their new acquaintance, Amelia felt a kinship with Sebastian’s sister-in-law.
“You love him, don’t you?” Isobel watched as a flicker of disquiet swept over her friend’s face. It vanished so quickly she wasn’t certain she had seen it.
Amelia didn’t want to offend Isobel, not when the woman had been so generous and kind to her, but felt she couldn’t lie. “I am a mere servant,” she whispered softly, aware of the frown of concern that stole across Isobel’s face.
“A servant? Are you sure?” The question was out before Isobel could stop it. She placed a gloved hand over her mouth quickly, and mumbled an apology.
Amelia smiled. “Yes, I am sure. I have worked as a housekeeper in the Scottish borders for the past two years. I was on my way home when I found Sebastian lying half-dead in the undergrowth.” Her gaze became unfocused as she stared out of the window, lost in memories of that fateful night. “I thought he was dead, but I knew from the outset he was aristocracy and not for the likes of me.”
Isobel knew instinctively there was something more Amelia wasn’t telling, and wondered how far she could politely probe without causing offence. “What do you mean, for the likes of you?”
“I am a servant,” Amelia repeated, not sure if Isobel had heard the first time.
“Yes, you said that bit. But there is something more.” Isobel settled back against the plush confines of Sebastian’s finest carriage, and frowned at Amelia. “You don’t talk or walk like a servant. You were bred for better things.”
Amelia felt colour stain her cheeks as she contemplated how much she should tell Isobel.
“I don’t want to pry, but Sebastian clearly thinks you are not a mere servant, or you wouldn’t be here. He would have ensured your safety, servant or not. But if there was any real doubt as to your suitability, he would have left you in the care of his housekeeper who would have kept you in the servants’ quarters. Or, knowing Sebastian, he would have furnished you with your own cottage on the estate where you could remain for as long as you wished.”
Isobel knew her brother-in-law well enough to know he was a man of decency and honour, and wouldn’t knowingly disgrace a servant. She had seen enough of the tender looks Sebastian gave Amelia to understand that there was real, deep affection between them. Whether she really was a servant, or not.
“Suitability for what?” Amelia asked, aghast at the thought that the household considered her his mistress.
“Well, as his wife of course,” Isobel replied, watching the flush of guilt stain Amelia’s cheeks. Knowing the Cavendish men, she supposed it was inevitable that Sebastian would follow in his brother’s footsteps, and not wait for the church doors to open before bedding the woman he wanted as his own.
“I cannot be his wife,” Amelia replied, shocked.
“Yes you can, my dear. Whatever your circumstance, you have the makings to be the most suitable wife for someone like Sebastian. The breeding is there, whether you admit it or not, and he considers you most eligible. One only has to see the way he looks at you to know that.”
“How does he look at me?” Amelia shifted on her seat, intrigued. She hadn’t been aware he had looked at her in any way other than as a mere annoyance. Well, aside from the incident in her room yesterday, when she was standing before him naked and still wet from her bath. The shock on his face was something that gave her a thrill of feminine delight, despite her embarrassment.
“Like he could drag you off to bed.” Isobel ignored Amelia’s shocked stare, and continued unabashed. She was pleased Amelia wasn’t offended at discussing such intimacies. “You must know he cares about you deeply. I know him well enough to know that he holds you in high esteem. The way he watches you, when you are in the room together, is decadent. He positively eats you alive with his eyes.”
She didn’t add that it was the same way Dominic looked at her when he wanted to take her to bed.
Amelia’s heart clenched in her chest with a mixture of longing and dread. She shook her head sadly. “He doesn’t love me. He might desire me, but it isn’t love.” Amelia’s voice trembled at the last.
“Believe me, Amelia, unless Sebastian had every intention of keeping you, he would not have brought you home with him,” Isobel announced, grasping her friend’s hand comfortingly. “He may not admit it outright just yet, but he will.”
Amelia shook her head. “We have slept together, but I won’t be his whore and I am not worthy to be his wife. He deserves better.”
“Have you murdered someone?” Isobel murmured softly, unsurprised when Amelia shook her head. “Are you already married?” When Amelia shook her head again, she patted Amelia’s hand before releasing it.
“Then unless you have some fatal disease, you are most eminently suitable for Sebastian. He just has to admit his feelings to you.” Her eyes caught and held Amelia’s. “The Cavendish men don’t succumb easily. I had to be practically dead before Dominic declared his feelings for me.”
“Dead?” Amelia murmured weakly, looking at the healthy glow of her friend opposite. She
couldn’t imagine Isobel looking anything less than stunningly beautiful.
“Sit back and relax. We are going to be a while, and I have a story to tell you,” Isobel said, and settled back to recount the events of her own tumultuous journey to happiness with Dominic.
“Where the hell are they?” Sebastian slammed the front door shut again, and stomped back towards the library with a fierce scowl on his face. “They should have been here hours ago.”