matter when she wasn’t privy to the conversation.
“Miss”—Huxley addressed her with a curt tip of his head—“You’ll want refreshments,
so I’ll locate Joshua.” Without further ado, Huxley left the room. Focusing on Mr.
Riley’s intent stare, Amelia wasn’t sure how she felt about being alone with him.
Mr. Riley placed the stool in front of her. Before he could assist, she lifted her
leg and settled her skirts around her so she wasn’t revealing anything but the edge
of her short leather boot. He took a seat across from her and slung his arm over the
back of the ivory-colored Louis chair. She flitted her gaze away from his, unable
to stand up to the scrutiny behind those assessing grays.
“Aside from teaching children, what other skills do you possess?” he asked.
She studied him for a few moments before answering. “How can you even consider taking
on someone who, up until now, has been more or less an encumbrance?”
“It is possible we view a burden as two separate things.”
“I doubt my skills would be useful to you. While I know how to run a household, put
menus together for dinner parties, and teach children a number of topics that include
the rudiments of mathematics, biology, geography, Latin, dance, and piano, I haven’t
the slightest idea what would be required of a secretary.”
“Women often downplay the true extent of their abilities. Running a household is not
as easy a task as you would have me believe. I know this for fact, as I struggled
through it with Huxley for a number of years until we hired Marney, the housekeeper.”
Her mouth opened to argue her point, but a man carrying a large brown leather bag
rushed into the room.
“Mr. Riley,” the newcomer said, slightly out of breath. “Huxley sent for me. He said
it was urgent.”
Mr. Riley stood, motioning toward Amelia. “Miss Grant has taken a fall and twisted
her ankle.”
The doctor knelt next to the stool her foot was perched upon. “May I?” he asked, motioning
toward her booted foot.
She nodded and curled her fingers around the piped edge of the sofa. The doctor hesitated
as he searched through his accouterments, pulling out scissors and then deciding against
them. Instead, he unlaced her boot, careful not to move her foot in the process.
Sucking in a pained breath, Amelia couldn’t help but wince as her boot was tugged
off. The pinch of pain lasted only a moment.
Mr. Riley took a step toward her, as if he would stop the doctor. She watched Mr.
Riley cautiously. What was he about? This time, she intentionally tried to catch his
gaze, but before she could garner his attention, he turned and strode out of the room.
Amelia breathed easier the moment Mr. Riley left her in the care of the doctor. Something
about Mr. Riley’s presence made her feel things she’d never felt before—foreign things
that had her blushing as images of him holding her close in his arms flashed across
her mind. She’d been raised a lady and had respected that upbringing. What she felt
for this man crossed every boundary of propriety that her father had instilled in
her.
With a shaky breath that had nothing to do with the swelling pain in her ankle and
everything to do with Mr. Riley, she looked at the doctor, needing to focus on something
else.
Anything else.
She guessed the doctor’s age was around forty. His face was clean shaven and his black
suit decently pressed. There were crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, as though
he often found reason for laughter. The kindness she saw there put her at ease in
her strange new surroundings.
The room was grander than any in her childhood home—the ceilings had to be twenty
feet high, making the room bright and airy. Above each of the lead-paned windows,
decorative stained glass was fashioned into the shape of a fan. The walls were papered
with a deep burgundy damask, and the furniture—two sofas and a chair in