So she listened, learned, and tried not to let her head swim with details. And all the while, she pushed away any thought of the man sitting across from her. She would think only of Mr. Christopher Jupp and how to be a good wife to him.
They arrived at Lord Morthan’s country estate to the patter of rain. Mrs. Hopkins went directly downstairs to visit with the housekeeper. Lord Byrn handed a missive to the butler, and they were immediately escorted to the library and left alone. Apparently, Lord Morthan had directed his staff to give them the privacy they required to accomplish the task.
Lord Byrn then went to open a safe hidden beneath the library floorboards. With careful hands, he brought out a tiara and bracelet to match the one that Amber’s father had melted down so long ago. And then Elliott brought out a sketching book and pencils, plus wax and her carving knives. He opened a pouch and poured out the stones that would have to fit in the finished piece.
“I visited your father this morning,” he said. “He gave me these for your use today.”
She nodded, feeling dazed. She knew for sure that her father hadn’t been the one to think ahead. That had been Lord Byrn, arranging everything.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You are doing this for me, so it was incumbent upon me to make sure you have everything you need to accomplish the task.” He looked down at the things set carefully on the library desk. “Did I forget anything?”
“This is everything.” She swallowed. “Did you discuss Mr. Jupp’s missive with Papa as well?”
Elliott nodded. “Yes, of course. He was very excited. He also told me how you brought Mr. Jupp there yesterday and told him your true identity.” His voice lowered. “That was a risky gambit.”
She lifted her chin. “I will not marry a man based on a lie.”
He nodded. “I am not criticizing. Indeed, I am most impressed.”
“That I am honest?” Her tone was stiff and angry.
He sighed. “You are determined to quarrel with me today. Very well, yes, I was surprised you would reveal yourself. Surely you have felt some of the backlash from Mr. Walsh’s drunken statement. To tell Mr. Jupp the truth was very risky, but it seems to have paid off. According to your father, he means to let you keep sculpting in secret.” He lowered his voice. “It is a heavy burden to lay on a man to hide his wife’s true identity, but I believe he will honor it.”
That was a lot spilling from a man who had barely spoken two words throughout the carriage ride. True, she and Mrs. Hopkins had given him few openings, but her mood was so foul that she would indeed damn him for that as well.
“You have arranged everything,” she said quietly. “My tools and my marriage to a worthy man.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” he asked. Was there hesitation in his voice? Hope perhaps that she wanted something else?
She couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter anyway. “No, Lord Byrn, this is perfect. As I said before, it is everything I have ever dreamed of.”
“Including falling desperately in love?”
He would throw that back at her. He would press her into confessing that that piece was missing. She didn’t love Mr. Jupp. No, the man she loved stood in front of her casually arranging matters such that she married someone else.
“Yes,” she said. “I am desperately in love.” With Elliott. And that truth nearly broke her right there.
She might have confessed all, but she wasn’t given the time. Elliott gave her a stiff smile and then gestured to the table. “I shall leave you to it,” he said. “I will be in the front parlor. Lord Morthan has some fine brandy.”
She blinked in surprise. “You are leaving me alone here?”
“Your father said you never like being disturbed when you work.”
That was true. But now that he was leaving, she found that she enjoyed his presence even when in such a horrible mood. She would have liked having him read nearby. She would have enjoyed smelling his scent and listening to his breath even as she grew absorbed in her work.
But that was illogical, and she didn’t blame him for wanting to quit her company. So she nodded and sat down to work. He bowed and showed himself out.
And three hours later, the rain came.
Chapter Nineteen
If the apocalypse began with heavy rains, then surely this was the end of days. Elliott stared out the window of the parlor and wondered at God’s cruelty. Bad enough that he had to help negotiate Amber’s marriage settlement with that wholesome prick, Christopher Jupp; now he had to spend more hours in her company without touching her. Without thinking of how he longed to please her. Without slipping into the library just to watch her create something marvelous out of wax.
She was destined for someone else, and no gentleman should touch another man’s wife.
If he were alone, he would drive the carriage himself despite the rain. He wanted to be back in London, where there were plenty of distractions from the delectable Amber. But he could not force his coachman to return in this weather and certainly not Mrs. Hopkins with her aching knees and feet. In truth, he did not like the idea of Amber out in this weather, either, so he stood in the parlor and glared at the rain.
There was nothing to do but think of her. And drink. He had already had too much of his host’s fine brandy. Any more would have him disreputably drunk, and that would certainly have him giving in to impulses he had just this morning sworn to never indulge. Ever.
He set aside the bottle and tried to read, but his mind was on her. Supper was served, and he and Amber sat together for the meal. Her expression held despair. His was no different. She had finished the wax mold and declared it acceptable. He promised they would return to London—with her reputation intact—as soon as the rain stopped in the morning.
And he prayed it would stop because the sight of her so sad cut at him.
He tried to ask why. She was to be a future baroness. Christopher was everything she ever wanted. She’d even said she was desperately in love with him. So why did she look like she wanted to drown herself in the nearest river? But when he asked, she merely shrugged.
“I am not fond of rain.”
“No one likes this kind of weather,” he returned. Not when the world seemed to be an endless curtain of wet.
She merely looked at him and nodded. There was no fire in her to challenge him. No flash of humor. He had three sisters and a mother. He knew that sometimes women got into moods, and there was nothing a man could do but stay out of their way. But he didn’t want to stay out of Amber’s way. He wanted to hold her and tease her until he coaxed a smile from her lips. Or she told him what was wrong.
But that wasn’t his place. That was Christopher’s place, and he damned himself for ever stepping into the Lyon’s Den where he’d met her and began this crazy situation.
“I think I shall retire early,” she said. “It’s too dark to work, and there’s no sense in burning the candles when I am overtired anyway.”
He didn’t want her to go to bed. He wanted her to stay with him. It made no sense, but his world was not right when she was so unhappy.
“Good idea,” he forced himself to say. “I will, likewise, retire early.”