Page 2 of A Necessary Wife

Chatham shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced around again. “I thought to take a stroll about your garden before your brother returns.”

“It is not my garden, my lord,” she said firmly. Nothing was hers. Nothing could be, here. But soon she would reach the advanced age of eight and twenty, and could finally claim her own garden to tend and a little cottage to live in not too far away. She was counting down the days till her birthday, though no one else would be.

Her brother had not thought her serious about living alone the first time she had mentioned her intention to quit Upper Folly, but there was bound to be an outcry when she took over her inheritance and disappeared. There was always something for the family to complain about where Amelia was concerned.

“That is a shame, isn’t it? That nothing is yours after so many years of diligent toil.” Chatham scowled. “Perhaps we might talk about the chances of changing that as we walk together.”

She frowned at the man who, like many others, had ignored her for years. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Take a walk with me, Miss Reynolds,” he said firmly, making it more of a demand. “I wish to speak with you of important matters.”

Her eyes widened in shock at the bold demand, and she glanced around for rescue again. They were already alone in the garden, yet still within full view of the house.

Walking off with an unmarried man would not be good for her reputation, and her guard rose against Chatham, as it did with all men who made similar propositions.

Yet, he had always been polite if disinterested in her in the past. Perhaps his desire for conversation related to something her brother had done. “Does this concern my brother?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he said, after a significant pause.

Amelia owed her brother a great deal for allowing her to stay here this long after her scandal, and so she eventually nodded, agreeing to the stroll, but she would only walk along the most used paths with him.

She inclined her head, and they strolled away from the garden bed she had just finished planting, Chatham with his hands behind his back, hers clenched at her waist.

He stopped under a tree, where the shade was deep and cooling, and they could be seen from any direction.

Chatham cleared his throat again. “I have been giving my situation some thought of late.”

Amelia barely managed not to groan that Chatham was a man who believed she’d be delighted to hear of his problems. “I assumed you wished to speak of Anthony.”

“I wish to speak of you,” he said, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his mouth again as his eyes met hers. “I feel it is necessary to marry again and hoped for your opinion,” he continued.

Amelia winced and looked away. “I am the last person who should offer anyone advice on making a marriage, especially a second one.”

She’d rather pluck out her eyes than debate the merits of one silly debutant’s value over another with him.

“I disagree.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I think you are uniquely qualified to offer an unbiased opinion of my chances of making a second match. I am convinced you are fully aware of what happened in my first marriage, so you already understand my hesitation to wed again.”

She shrugged. Chatham had been a topic of conversation after dinner for many years in her brother’s home. She probably knew far too much, and Chatham could be offended if she revealed the details to which she’d been made privy. “Some of it. I…”

“Your brother gossips like a fish swims, Miss Reynolds,” Chatham warned. “So does everyone else in society. Of course you know the whole of it.”

She exhaled. “Yes, everyone does love to gossip. So I must assume that you are well acquainted with the details of my own scandal, too.”

He inclined his head, confirming her suspicions. “Your brother recently expressed an unhappy opinion that you will never wed, despite receiving several offers. I can sympathize. I am familiar with the pressure a family can bring to bear in such a situation.”

“The pressure to marry has always been there.” Amelia laughed bitterly. “Unlike you, I never had any desire or opportunity to return to London again, to seek a more faithful beau.”

“What if there was an offer made to you here and now?”

She blinked. “I would refuse.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “My lord, you should not ask such questions.”

He kept his hands behind his back but leaned forward. “Why not?”

“Because you will not like my response.” She shook her head. “No one ever does.”