Page 77 of A Mismatch Made in London

For the next three days, the four of us—Mr. Shelley and Juliet,Jeremy and I—went on our morning walks together, along with Mrs. Wilson, who was now fully recovered from her cold.

Mr. Shelley and Juliet talked of their wedding, which was to take place very soon, and their honeymoon trip, as they were still deciding where to go. When they were deep in conversation, it was good to have Jeremy there to talk to. Mrs. Wilson was always there, but her conversation was often tedious, telling detailed stories about people I didn’t know and places I’d never been, which might not have been so tedious if she’d described the places and people with the details I wanted to hear.

Juliet said, “I know it must be irritating to be with us and hear all our dull talk of the wedding and honeymoon trip. I’m sorry, Amelia.”

She had not insisted I stay with her. I supposed she didn’t need me anymore.

Perhaps it shouldn’t hurt, but I was realizing that feeling needed was the same as feeling loved. At least, that was how I thought about it. And when I had felt as if Juliet needed me, it helped me not feel as lonely and homesick for my family.

If no one needed me, how would know I was loved?

I knew my baby sister Diana loved me because she needed me to put her to sleep, and to help her get dressed in the mornings when she was grumpy and hungry and all the servants were busy doing other things.

My mother loved me because I helped her whenever she needed me. My father loved me because I was a rational person to talk to, and I was his companion when he wanted to take a short trip to see a grand country home such as Stowe House, or a historical place such as Boarstall Tower. My little brothers loved me because I made toy soldiers for them when they were playing war.

Did Jeremy Beaumont need me?

Perhaps that was why I couldn’t quite believe that he loved me, despite how attentive he was to me; he didn’t need me.

The two times we had kissed, I had a feeling that he neededme then, but any woman could offer a pair of lips to be kissed. Why did he needme?

I’d never heard anyone speak of such things. Was I the only one who thought this way?

“You know you are invited to our wedding,” Juliet said the next day on our walk. “Do you think you’ll be able to come? It will be in Bedfordshire.”

“I need to go home, to see my parents, but perhaps.”

It wasn’t customary for others, especially if they were not close relatives, to travel a long distance to someone’s wedding. I had only been to two weddings, both at my home parish church, one being my cousin’s and the other a childhood friend’s. I would have enjoyed seeing Juliet and Mr. Shelley’s wedding, but weddings were functional rather than celebratory. Besides, I really needed to go home and see my parents and speak to them about my engagement and possible marriage.

Juliet leaned forward to glance at Jeremy, who was walking on my other side. “I am glad you are engaged, truly glad, but do you not think you should set a date for the wedding?”

“I think we should wait,” I said. “I haven’t spoken of it to my mother and father yet.”

“And I need to speak to Amelia’s father,” Jeremy said, “to ask his permission to marry his daughter. I’m afraid I got things out of order. I should have asked him sooner.”

It was true enough. He certainly did get things out of order by kissing me before I had any notion that he loved me. But that begged the question: Why had I allowed him to kiss me?

I couldn’t explain it, so the less said on the subject the better, for my part.

After walking to the park, we arrived at the Beaumont townhouse. Juliet embraced me. “If you do not come to the wedding,I shall not see you again until after the honeymoon trip.” She sighed. “I shall miss you, but to see everyone I love so happy and in love is my greatest pleasure!”

Jeremy and I were left standing on the front step.

“If you are tired,” he said, “I’m glad to get the carriage and drive you home.”

Was I tired? It was probably only a fifteen-minute walk, but the carriage would be slightly faster. Normally I would rather walk, partly to save him the trouble of getting the carriage, but I was not to be so accommodating, as I remembered Juliet’s admonition not to do everything Jeremy wanted me to do.

“I think I would like to take the carriage.”

“Very well. You may wait inside while I see to it.”

His expressions were much softer when the two of us were alone, with none of the scowls and frowns that I’d seen so often on his face.

He seated me in the sitting room, then promised to return quickly.

I glanced around at the well-furnished room. Indeed, I was well acquainted with this home, having been a guest here. It was larger than the Kendall townhouse, less opulent but more comfortable. And if I married Jeremy Beaumont, I would be mistress of this house, as well as of his country estate.

But if he did not love me, if he regretted marrying me, I could not be happy, not if I were mistress of a dozen houses.