Amelia by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online

the horse gently and trotted off the way he'd come.
    Amelia watched him go, enthralled by the picture he made in the saddle, long and lean and elegant.
    As if he sensed her rapt stare he pulled the horse to a halt and abruptly turned in the saddle to look back at her.
    She made a pretty picture in the setting sun, with her golden hair haloed by the fiery colors on the horizon. She looked fragile somehow, and lonely. He looked at her for a long moment before he could force himself to move on.
    Amelia, having seen that unexpected stare, was touched by it and vaguely discomforted. She sincerely hoped that King wasn't going to start anything. The last thing in the world she needed was to find herself involved with a man as domineering and overbearing as her father—whom she was desperate to escape.
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    Friday arrived. Amelia and Enid had taken two days to sew their respective dresses on the Singer treadle sewing machine in the parlor. Amelia's was made of crisp
lavender taffeta with puffy sleeves and an overlay of rich lavender chiffon. Appliquéd lace adorned the bodice and hem in a copy of a Charles Worth design that featured a narrow waist with a gored skirt. It looked very feminine and elegant, and she wore her upswept blond hair in a small tiara of artificial white roses.
    "How lovely you look," Enid told her with genuine affection.
    "Oh, so do you," Amelia said, smiling. And the older woman did look very elegant in her own gown of green taffeta.
    Both women wore long, opera length white gloves and carried purses decorated with seed pearls. Amelia's had belonged to her mother. How fortunate, she thought, that she had it in her cases.
    King joined them in the parlor, resplendent in a vested dark suit and a four-handed tie. His black boots were highly polished, and his immaculate dark hair was topped by a new black Stetson.
    "My, how handsome you look," his mother said warmly.
    His eyebrow jerked at the flattery. His silver eyes went to Amelia and slid over her with something approximating distaste. He made her feel inadequate and dowdy, unusual feelings for a woman whose beauty had not gone unnoticed despite her lack of a social life.
    She moved a step away from him, pretending interest in smoothing her dark cloak. The cloak would be needed, because it was still cool at night.
    "I'll bring the surrey around," he said curtly and went off to fetch it.
    "I prefer the buggy, but these dresses won't ride comfortably if we're packed in like sardines," Enid said, laughing. "We'll let King sit in front, and we'll ride behind."
    Amelia smiled, but secretly she was relieved. It didn't make her feel particularly secure to have to sit beside King and try to make conversation. Especially when he made his dislike of her so evident.
    "Come along, my dear." Enid motioned to Amelia. There was an ominous rumbling outside, and the older woman grimaced. "Oh, dear, I do hope the rain holds off until we arrive. I don't want to get my skirt muddy before the first dance!" A sentiment which Amelia echoed fervently.
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    It didn't rain the whole long, bumpy way to the Valverde estate, several miles down the winding dirt road. The sandy trail was firmly packed, but Amelia didn't like to consider how treacherous it would be when rained upon. She and Quinn had once been in a buggy that mired down in Georgia when rains badly muddied the road to church. Even the strong horse Quinn had hitched to the buggy couldn't pull it out. They were forced to ride the horse home, pillion, and Amanda's dignity and her legs felt the strain of it that night. Fortunately in the dark, she hadn't been seen.
    King pulled up in front of the porch and helped the women out before he went down to the stable to leave the horse and surrey with the stable hand.
    The house was well lighted, its broad front porch full of costumed people drinking punch and conversing, while inside a small band played gay music.
    "You'll enjoy this," Enid assured her. "Come. I'll introduce