The Perks of Being a Beauty by Manda Collins Read Free Book Online

never would have guessed you had it in you.”
    Somewhat surprised himself, Quentin laughed self-consciously. “I suppose I dislike hearing my friends spoken of in such disrespectful tones.”
    “Well, you can’t have developed this friendship in London,” Carstairs said with a frown, “for I know everyone who’s anyone in town and you ain’t been to a ton entertainment in years.”
    “No,” Quentin agreed, “not since my marriage and move to America.” He thrust a hand through his dark hair, suddenly embarrassed at his overreaction to Wallace’s words about Amelia. It wasn’t that the other man had been in the right, for he hadn’t. But Quentin might have handled the matter in a much more … subtle manner. Though he could not be sorry that all the others now knew to leave Amelia alone.
    “We actually knew each other years ago in Cornwall. I was home from Oxford and Amelia had just moved into the village with her mother to live on her uncle’s estate.”
    Wallace poured himself a drink. “You’ll pardon me for saying so,” he ventured, clearly still aware of the feel of Quentin’s hand around his throat, “but it’s hard to imagine Amelia Snowe as anything but what she is now. A poised, cool, elegant lady.”
    Quentin gave a little half smile. “It’s hard for me to imagine her as anything else. She was self-possessed as a girl, but nothing like the polished creature she is today.” He frowned, thinking about how that change might have been wrought. This might be his one and only opportunity to learn what had happened to that carefree girl he’d once known. “What was she like in London?”
    The other men exchanged a look. Quentin looked from one to the next, to the next.
    “What?” he asked, his heart clenching a bit. “Was it really so bad?”
    “Not at all,” Wilkes said with a wave of his hand. “Not at all. It’s just that the Amelia you see today is but a shadow of Amelia in full splendor.”
    “How so?” Quentin asked. “Surely she can’t have changed that much.”
    “It’s not so much that she changed, but that she toned herself down a bit.” Wilkes continued. “Sort of like a lamp lowering its light a bit.”
    Quentin felt his heartbeat return to normal.
    “But you can’t forget the outbursts,” Carstairs said with a shrug. “I think those were what spelled the beginning of the end.”
    The other men glared at their friend.
    “You might as well tell me,” Quentin said, crossing his arms over his chest. He had the feeling that whatever they were going to say would not be pleasant for him to hear. Though he could not imagine that the Amelia he knew could have done anything particularly damning. She was, after all, obsessed with making a good match and that could not be achieved if she were in the habit of calling attention to herself.
    “Well,” Carstairs began, “it’s not terribly troubling. That is, it was a bit shocking at the time, but for the most part it was quickly forgotten.”
    “But what was it?” Quentin asked. Spreading his hands out before him, he said, “Do not fear that I’ll repeat my own outburst of earlier. I am quite in control now.”
    Wilkes gave a short nod. “All right, but just remember that you asked for it.”
    When Quentin indicated that he should proceed, Wilkes gave a slight shrug and said, “Last season, when it was becoming apparent not only to Amelia but to the ton at large, that she was not going to land the eligible parti she’d been dangling for, Amelia went a bit … well … mad.”
    “How so?”
    The other man’s neck reddened in embarrassment. Whether it was for Amelia, for Quentin, or for himself, Quentin hadn’t a clue. He only knew that if it was taking this long for the fellow to spit it out, it must indeed be troubling.
    “It was small things at first,” Wilkes said. “She was overheard threatening Miss Cecily Hurston, now the Duchess of Winterson. Amelia had been hoping that Winterson would offer for her.