Persuasion by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

her own husband,” Amelia said grimly. The gossip was too unsettling!
    “Why else would she come to Cornwall in her condition—in the winter?” Mrs. Murdock nodded. “It was a very troubled marriage, Miss Greystone.”
    Amelia looked down at the sleeping newborn. She didn’t know what to think. “I don’t think you should raise your concerns with anyone else, Mrs. Murdock. Especially not now, with the household in mourning. Such suspicions and doubts no longer matter.”
    “You are right,” Mrs. Murdock said. “I wonder what he will do now? His sons—his daughter—need their father. I imagine he will take us with him, wherever he goes.” She seemed unhappy.
    “You should hope that is the case, as it would be best for the children.” Amelia was firm. But she returned to the crib and stared down at the sleeping baby. He hadn’t looked at his beautiful daughter, not even once. She had a distinct feeling of dread. Something was certainly wrong. Maybe Mrs. Murdock hadn’t been exaggerating, as she hoped.
    “Thank you so much for being so kind,” Mrs. Murdock cried. “Could you possibly call on us?”
    Amelia slowly faced her. The nurse was in a state. Tears filled her eyes. She missed her mistress, Amelia thought, and she was afraid of Grenville. And how would Grenville manage? Even if his marriage had been strained, surely he was grieving now. She had seen the anguish in his eyes. “I am at Greystone Manor, a half hour’s ride away if astride. If I can be of further help, send a groom with a message.”
    Mrs. Murdock thanked her profusely.
    It was time to leave. Picking up her coat, Amelia went to the boys’ rooms to say goodbye, and to promise to visit soon. At least they seemed to have forgotten their grief for the moment, she thought, watching them play with the tiny soldiers. But she was very disturbed as she went down the corridor. She almost wished that she had never had such a conversation with Mrs. Murdock.
    As she started downstairs, her tension spiraled impossibly. She did not know where Grenville was. Hopefully he was with his guests and she would slip out of his house unnoticed. They day had been far too trying. She was not up to exchanging greetings now.
    She hurried past the second landing, which she believed housed his apartments. Her tension had increased. It was foolish, but she almost seemed to feel his presence, nearby.
    As she started down the last flight of stairs, she realized that someone was coming up them. It was a man, his head down, and she recognized him before he looked up and saw her.
    She faltered. Her heart slammed.
    Grenville halted three or four steps below her, glancing up.
    Instantly his gaze locked with hers.
    Dread began. How could this be happening? And she knew that her dismay was written all over her face; she wondered if he could hear her thundering heartbeat. But his expression was impossible to read. If he was surprised to see her, she could not tell. And if he was consumed with grief, it was not obvious. His face was a mask of dispassion.
    And they were alone on the stairs. She felt trapped.
    But then, strangely, his eyes began to gleam.
    Her panic intensified. “Good afternoon, my lord. I am so sorry for your loss.” She tried to smile politely and failed. “What a terrible tragedy! Lady Grenville was a kind and gracious woman. She was far too young to pass this way, leaving behind such beautiful children!” Was she speaking in a nervous rush? It seemed that way. “I hope to help, in any way that I can!” she added desperately.
    His dark gaze never shifted from her face. “Hello, Amelia.”
    She froze. She had not expected such an informal—and intimate—form of address. It was highly inappropriate for him to call her Amelia. But he had called her by her given name all summer long....
    “I hadn’t expected to see you here.” His tone remained flat and calm.
    She could not breathe properly. “I would never fail to attend Lady Grenville’s