Stars of Twilight Fair: A Sweet Victorian Romance by K. Lyn Smith

Author:K. Lyn Smith [Smith, K. Lyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Davenwood Press
Published: 2024-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I will never look at brown in quite the same way.

—From the private journal of Miss Amelia Thorne

Two days later, Amelia was unable to avoid her aunt’s picnic outing to St. Mary Holme, to both her and Aunt Mary’s dismay. But Octavia’s account laid it out thusly: Mr. Temple inquired at breakfast if Miss Thorne would join them. Aunt Mary demurred with some vague nonsense, but Mr. Temple politely insisted that the younger set wouldn’t be complete without Miss Thorne, especially as Lady Foxgate had taken her daughter off. When Lord Hargreave, who outranked them all, agreed, Aunt Mary’s defeat had been complete.

“I have Mr. Temple to thank for this?” Amelia asked her cousin.

“Yes. He seems rather taken with you. I think he must be in need of a fortune,” Octavia said as Jane pinned her hair.

Amelia might have taken offense at her cousin’s comment, but it was only a testament to Octavia’s innate practicality rather than an opinion on Amelia’s attractive qualities.

“I think you must be right.” Amelia looked up from her book and checked the clock on Octavia’s mantel. “Are you nearly finished?” she asked. “The guests will be ready to depart soon.” Though she had no eagerness to join her aunt’s party, she also had no wish to arrive late and draw everyone’s attention.

“It won’t hurt for the gentlemen to wait a bit.” Then Octavia eyed her critically in the mirror. Amelia, who had already donned a dark brown walking dress for her morning walk, hadn’t seen the need to change just so she could walk about the ruins on St. Mary Holme. Octavia’s gaze turned speculative as she asked, “Which bonnet will you wear?”

“My straw poke, I imagine.”

Predictably, Octavia shook her head, her unpinned curls bouncing about her shoulders. “I’ve the perfect capote,” she said. “It’s trimmed with a ribbon of brown velvet and will complement your dress perfectly.”

Amelia cast a dubious glance toward her simple wool skirts, but a small bit of vanity had her agreeing to Octavia’s offer. “If it’s not too excessive,” she said.

Octavia’s brow lifted in mild surprise at her easy capitulation, and Amelia returned her attention to The Prelude before her cousin could comment. She was only at the tenth book, and there were fourteen in all. If she meant to lend the volume to Mr. Corbyn and ensure he could return it before he left, she must remain diligent.

Thoughts of the gentleman caused her to lose her place on the page, and she frowned. She still wasn’t certain why she’d told him all she had about her scandal, but whenever she thought of their time together in the gardener’s outbuilding, her cheeks grew uncomfortably warm.

“What do you think of Mr. Corbyn?” Octavia said, and Amelia sucked in a breath for her cousin’s prescience.

A glance at the mirror over Octavia’s shoulder indicated that, yes, there was a bit of betraying color in her cheeks. She willed it away, unsuccessfully, and said, “What do you mean?”

“What do you think of him? You met him in Birthwaite and again when he took your portrait.

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