She hoped.
Although it wasn’t promising. With no family to speak of, no friends in London in the upper crust, it would be quite the challenge to find an acceptable husband. She could most likely secure a position as a companion to an older lady, or a governess to a lord’s children. That would certainly be a proper position for her, but a suitable match would be almost impossible from there.
The fairy tales and the romance novels of Miss Austen and the Bronte sisters, where all works out well in the end for the poor heroine, were fiction. Amelia had to deal with real life. Her original plan to save enough money to move elsewhere was still foremost in her mind. Hopefully in her new location—maybe a cozy little village—she might attract a vicar or kindly shop owner. She didn’t need a wealthy or titled husband. Just someone she cared for and who cared for her. A home of her own. Children to love and nurture.
All of those dreams were, unfortunately, dependent on not being forced to comply with Randolph’s intentions. She shuddered remembering how close she’d come to being passed off as a mistress.
She left her bedchamber and made her way to the dining room, which was empty. Generally, Driscoll and Dante were present having their breakfast. But food sat in covered dishes on the sideboard, as well as pots of tea and coffee, so she assumed they would join her shortly.
She fixed her tea and took a seat, inhaling the satisfying aroma, the steam from the cup misting her face. She missed this one little indulgence when she’d been forced to leave her country home to live in London.
Randolph had refused to allow Cook to buy tea since his preference was coffee on his rare visits, but Cook had kept her own supply of tea and offered a cup to Amelia on occasion. Too embarrassed to let the lovely women know she had no funds with which to purchase her own tea, she accepted the treat without comment.
“Good morning, Amelia.” Driscoll entered the room. “You are looking lovely today.”
She felt the blush rise from her middle. “Thank you.”
He went directly to the sideboard and filled his plate. “Aren’t you eating?” He nodded at her empty place while he settled in his seat across from her and shook out his napkin, placing it on his lap.
“Not yet. I’m enjoying my tea first.”
A slight sense of unease settled over her. As much as she’d enjoyed the kisses they’d shared, she was still troubled, hoping that Driscoll did not think her an easy woman who gave her favors to any man.
Driscoll, on the other hand, seemed quite cheerful and not at all concerned. But then, she was quite sure he’d kissed plenty of women, while his was her first kiss.
Dante strode into the room, a glower on his handsome face.
“What’s wrong, brother? I expected you to be in the best of moods,” Driscoll said. “Or didn’t you spend the night—” He glanced over at Amelia and added, “Never mind. We’ll talk later.”
Once Dante was settled with a cup of coffee in front of him, Amelia stood and moved to the sideboard to fill a plate. She could hear mumbling behind her between the two brothers, but they spoke low enough that she could not make out the words. All she could tell was Dante was angry.
She joined them and almost groaned when she took her first bite of the fresh bread.
“Amelia, I did some work on the books last night and it looks like your table did outstandingly well.” Driscoll smiled at her, almost like a proud parent, and again she blushed.
“Congratulations,” Dante offered.
“But I didn’t work the entire time.”
Driscoll laughed. “That’s the amazing part. The table returns dropped once you left the table.”
Amelia smiled. “I guess I did all right.”
Driscoll covered her hand with his and regarded her with a look that had her heart thumping and her insides fluttering. “Yes. You did.”
They smiled at each other.
“Enough for me.” Dante rolled his eyes and stood. “I have work to do.” Coffee cup in hand, he left the room.
Speaking of work reminded Amelia of her promise. “I plan to help you with the books today. I know watching me last night took you away from your work.”
Instead of arguing with her as she thought he would do, he said, “I would appreciate that.”
When she flushed and studied her lap, he said, “Amelia, look at me.”
She glanced up, sure that her face was red as a ripe apple. “What?”
“Please don’t be embarrassed with me. I liked kissing you and I hope you enjoyed it, too.”
She shrugged and drew circles on the table. “It was nice.”
“Just nice?” He studied her, his deep brown eyes boring into hers. “I guess the next time I shall have to do better.”
Amelia gulped the last of her tea and stood. “I will see you in the office.”
Next time?
13
Three weeks later
“We have a problem, brother.” Dante strolled into the office, pulled out the chair in front of Driscoll’s desk and threw himself into it, his long legs stretched out, his feet crossed at the ankles. Although he appeared relaxed, the tension in his brother’s body was palpable.
Driscoll’s muscles tightened. He had a good idea what problem Dante referred to and he wasn’t yet ready to discuss it. It had kept him awake the past two nights.
Feigning ignorance was his choice of reaction. “And what is that?”
Dante studied him for a minute. “I think you already know.”
Driscoll pulled his spectacles off and rubbed his bleary eyes. He’d been going over the receipts for the past three weeks and no matter how many times he added and re-added, the answers were always the same.
“If you’re referring to the drop in house receipts, I am aware of it.”
Dante straightened and leaned forward. “Not the house receipts, Driscoll. Specifically, Amelia’s table receipts. They were quite robust her first ten days, but the past week and a half they’ve slipped considerably. Every night.”
That
