“Is someone visiting?” Amelia asked. “Who is it?”

“No one,” Thomas said, barely looking at her. “Just an acquaintance from London. Someone I used to fence with.”

“He is handy with a sword,” Mr. Gladdish put in, motioning to Thomas. “He trounced me every time, pains me though it does to admit it.”

“You were invited to share his fencing lessons?” Amelia said. “How lovely.”

“I shared all his lessons,” Mr. Gladdish said with a smile. It was a real smile, too; nothing teasing or silly.

“It was my father’s only generous gesture,” Thomas confirmed. “Not generous enough, of course. Harry’s education was stopped when I left for Eton.”

“Wyndham couldn’t be rid of me that easily, though,” Harry said. He leaned toward Amelia and said, “Everyone should have someone in his life who knows his every secret.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you?”

“Know his every secret? Absolutely.”

Amelia turned to Thomas. He did not contradict. She turned back to Harry with delight. “Then you do!”

“You didn’t believe me the first time?”

“It seemed only polite to verify,” she demurred.

“Well, yes, you do have to marry the old chap, whereas I must only bear his company once a week or so.” Mr. Gladdish turned to Thomas and took the empty Baddish glass off the counter. “Do you need another one?”

“One was quite enough, thank you.”

“Your color is returning already,” Amelia said with some amazement. “You’re not so green.”

“Yellow, I thought,” Mr. Gladdish put in. “Except for the purple under the eye. Very regal-like.”

“Harry.” Thomas looked quite close to the edge of his patience.

Harry leaned closer to Amelia. “Those ducal types never get black eyes. Always purple. Goes better with the robes.”

“There are robes?”

Harry waved a hand. “There are always robes.”

Thomas took hold of Amelia’s arm. “We’re leaving, Harry.”

Harry grinned. “So soon?”

Amelia waved with her free hand, even as Thomas tugged her away from the bar. “It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Gladdish!”

“You are welcome any time, Lady Amelia.”

“Why, thank you, I—”

But Thomas had already yanked her from the room.

“He’s very sweet,” Amelia said as she skipped along beside him, trying to keep up with his lengthier stride.

“Sweet,” Thomas repeated, shaking his head. “He’d like that.” He steered her around a puddle, although not so deftly that she didn’t have to take a little hop to save her boots.

The coachman was already holding the door open when they approached. Amelia let Thomas help her up, but she’d not even taken her seat before she heard him say, “To Burges Park.”

“No!” she exclaimed, popping her head back out. “We can’t.”

Good heavens, that would be a disaster.

Chapter 10