A Subtle Dragon: A Regency Gaslamp Fantasy by E. B. Wheeler

Author:E. B. Wheeler [Wheeler, E. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rowan Ridge Press
Published: 2022-04-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Amelia settled into her room at the Westings’ townhouse, inspecting the dressing table as Jane unpacked her trunk. Based on the crib in the corner and the pile of baby gowns and bonnets stacked on the chair by the window, they had put her into the still-unneeded nursery. It must have been the last available chamber in the crowded house.

Amelia had never enjoyed large house parties. Her family had attended a few while her parents were seeking a match for her brother, and the parties had always seemed so stiff and awkward.

Or perhaps it was Amelia who had always felt awkward.

She spent the first night at the Westings’ house bivouacked in the room. Jane slipped out to eat with the servants and catch up on the gossip in a new house, but Amelia stared out her window at Berkeley Square below, not so different from Grosvenor Square. An ice shop sat on one corner instead of a coffee shop, but the same sorts of ladies and gentlemen strolled by, the same constant rumble of carriages overwhelmed any birds who sang in the trees. The fire had not stopped the haut ton’s social activities. If anything, the desire to gossip had intensified them. There was a sense of safety and solidarity in gathering in the face of terror—in sharing the burden. It made Amelia feel terribly lonely until she spotted her little street sweep in the square.

Blackerby had not forgotten her.

That was foolishness. Blackerby felt a sense of responsibility to keep her safe. He had only pretended to wish to marry her to save her from her father’s wrath and give himself an excuse to take her to the Westings. To lock her in yet another modern castle where she would be out of the way. It seemed to be all she was good at—staying unseen. If only someone would see her. But perhaps she wasn’t worthy of notice.

With those lowering thoughts, she curled up to feign sleep before Jane came back upstairs.

Amelia eventually slept a little and woke feeling low. She passed the morning sketching in her little notebook, but she didn’t want to be rude to her hosts, so she allowed Jane to help her change and went down for nuncheon rather than having a tray sent to her room.

Lord Westing stood outside the dining room like a soldier at attention, his perpetual scowl softened only a little when he glanced across the room at his wife. His dragon sat on his shoulder, its tail swinging slowly, while Phoebe’s dragon, Mushroom, sniffed at the dishes on the side table.

Westing bowed to Amelia. “I’m glad to have you here with us, Lady Amelia.” His voice was cool, but his eyes were sincere. Not so cold beneath the surface.

“I fear I have caused you a great deal of trouble, and I am sorry for it,” Amelia said.

“Not at all. The trouble is of Shaw’s making, and we are glad to have our friends and allies gathered together.” And he actually smiled, crumbling his icy demeanor.

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