Page 15

Well, George had never done it. He had been too intoxicated. He had been embarrassed and apologetic the next morning and had said over and over, I’m sorry that I never came to you. She had forgiven him quickly and easily—in truth, there had been nothing to forgive, for she hadn’t been angry. And when he’d said we’ll have the wedding night when I come home from the war, all right? he’d had such a twinkle in his eye that she couldn’t help feeling excited.

Now she was about to have a wedding night. Not the one she had anticipated, but with a different man.

She didn’t feel prepared.

She cleared her throat. Perhaps Nancy would be able to help her. “Do you know when I ought to expect His Grace?”

Nancy’s face twisted in obvious discomfort with the question. “I don’t know anything about all that, Your Grace. I was just to help you make yourself ready for bed.”

Amanda nodded, wondering if she had committed a faux pas. But hadn’t she been told to ask the staff anything? “I see,” she said. “Thank you very much, Nancy.” She rose to her feet. “I think I can manage things myself from here.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Nancy bowed and backed away quickly.

She must be frightened of me. Even though the girl had been talkative, she’d been clear that this was an assignment that was deeply important to her, and she might be fearful of losing her. Amanda wanted to offer her a little more reassurance. “You and I are going to get to know one another much better in the days to come,” she said with a smile she hoped seemed friendly.

It worked. Nancy smiled back at her, her face relaxing a bit, and showed herself out.

Amanda bit her lip and turned toward the door.

What was she meant to do now? Nancy had mentioned making her ready for bed. Should she get into bed, then? But how could that be the right thing, if Sampson was going to come for her? What if this time she was the one to fall asleep, as George had before? What if that put her in a position that required her to apologize to him tomorrow? She didn’t want to start off this marriage having done wrong.

I can’t believe he didn’t even bother to speak to me about what I might expect from him tonight. She was suddenly frustrated. Would that have been so much to ask? To expect that he would tell me what time he might come, so that I would know how long I needed to remain awake?

She bit her lip indecisively.

And then, all at once, determination took hold of her.

Why did she need to wait on him? He certainly hadn’t been very respectful of her timetables up until now. He had left her on her own for years after George’s death—surely he could have gotten to her faster—only to interrupt things the very moment she had arrived at the altar.

She could take matters into her own hands now. She could go to him, rather than waiting for him to come to her. That ought to be considered fair play. And if he disliked it, well, he should have handled things differently. He should have been clear about what he wanted from her.

She put on her dressing gown and let herself out into the hall.

It was dark out there. Dark, and a little bit chilly. A shiver passed down her spine. This place did not feel like her home at all yet, even though she knew it was. The bedchamber had begun to feel a little bit like a place that belonged to her. It helped having all her things spread out in there. But out here…no. This was a stranger’s house. It always would be.

She made her way slowly down the hall, breathing deeply and trying not to jump at the sight of every shadow she passed. That was difficult. Every time the shadow was bigger than she was, or flickered ever so slightly, she was sure it was Sampson appearing before her. He would be coming down the hall to find her, to confront her. He would demand to know what she was doing out of her room in the middle of the night, and Amanda would have no idea how to answer…

She paused outside the door to his study.

She knew she had found him, because there was light coming from beneath the door. He hadn’t gone to bed yet. She had to be courageous about this, had to just march right in there and tell him what was on her mind.

She knocked at the door and held her breath.

There was a long silence. It stretched on so long, in fact, that she began to wonder whether she might not have been wrong about his presence. Maybe he had left a lantern lit. If he had, should she tell someone? Ask a member of staff to come and check on things?

“Come in,” he called out.

Her nerves gnawed at her. It was almost disappointing to realize he was there after all. She’d begun to think she would get away without facing the intensity of this moment. But there was no backing down, not now.

She opened the door and went inside.

Sampson was sitting at his desk, a thick book open before him. He looked up as she entered the room. “Amanda,” he said. “May I help you with something?”

She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Shouldn’t he know why she was here? Shouldn’t he be the one coming to find her, really? That was the way she had always heard it told, but he was looking at her with a deeply quizzical expression on his face. He didn’t seem angry with her, or bothered by her presence. But he did seem as though he had no idea what might be happening right now.

“I…” she hesitated. “I didn’t know if I was supposed to wait for you.” Even to her own ears, that sounded foolish. It was a weak explanation. But she shouldn’t have to explain. He should know.

“Wait for me?” he repeated, eyebrows lifting.