Graham chuckled as they entered the front hall. “I’ve never been swarmed by the marriage-minded mamas, and for that I am thankful. Must be my lack of title, and fortune born from hard work.”
Amelia stopped before the mirror to check her hair one last time. Fran had formed her plaited hair into a crown and pinned it in place with blue topaz combs.
“And you’re especially safe now that you belong to me,” Amelia said. He suddenly stilled behind her, and his gaze soughthers in the mirror. There was something devastatingly honest in his eyes. A startled realization of the truth in her words, and then, heat. A memory of that kiss came flooding back to her, and warmth rushed up her throat.
Blast it, she only meant to tease him. Not provokethis.Butthiswas what he and Fran had meant, wasn’t it? A knowledge. A look. There was something about him that reminded her of their kiss. Did she look the same? Would others be able to decipher her expressions and know what they had shared?
He broke eye contact and accepted his greatcoat from the butler. Amelia waited for the maid to secure her cloak.
She hated how suddenly aware she was of Graham. She was captivated by his walk, the sway of his shoulders, and the memory of the silky feel of his hair between her fingers. The groom held open the carriage door, and Graham waited, offering his hand as usual. Amelia took it, reminding herself not to be contrary any longer. She needed him. Sam needed him. She tucked her hand in his, and the warmth shocked her as it soaked through her glove. Taking her seat, he followed, sitting across from her.
“You look enchanting tonight,” he said.
She almost smiled. “Enchanting?”
“Is that not appropriate?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure. This gown is not something I’d consider flattering for me. I’ve worn much prettier gowns, and you’ve said nothing.”
“Would you have accepted a compliment from me if I had?”
“Probably not. Butenchanting?” This time, she did smile.
His lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine. You look like a doll my sister Daisy would have set around the nursery table and served tea to.”
Amelia laughed, and he grinned.
“That I believe,” she said.
Something tight in her belly loosened, but there was still an awkwardness. What did they really have to say to each other if they weren’t arguing or talking about Sam?
The carriage ride passed in silence, Graham’s profile highlighted by the lamp through the window. What was he looking at? What was he thinking? she wondered. She tugged at the fingers of her gloves, more anxious about tonight than she’d ever been about an evening event. Not even at her come-out ball had she felt this fluttering in her chest, like if she leapt high enough, whatever was inside her would carry her into the sky.
Now that she recalled it, her come-out ball was the first and only time she and Graham had shared a dance. He’d told her Sam had requested he dance with her, not that she was wanting for partners. But she couldn’t refuse him. He’d looked at her differently that night, watching her from across the ballroom. She had taken far too many peeks at him, his chiseled jaw and those captivating green eyes had her well on her way to succumbing to an infatuation that night with her brother’s new friend. He was older than Sam’s other friends. A mature man. Someone steady and knowledgeable. Someone she could rely on and trust. She’d thought they would at least become friends themselves, if not more.
But something had happened that night, and those magical feelings had vanished. Was it him? Or was it her? She couldn’t remember anymore exactly what had spoiled everything between them.
But tonight he would dance with her again, likely more than once. Time would tell if he could tolerate it or if she could. Amelia couldn’t tell what would happen next, though it did seem that their kiss had shifted something between them. Would they continue to dislike each other? Would they become friends after all? Something more? No, she wouldn’t even think about it. Thatwas absurd. Even a lasting friendship was highly unlikely. But a lifetime together?
She snorted, and he briefly glanced at her.
To share a lifetime with him would be torture. Whatever her first feelings had been, whatever that kiss had momentarily awakened, he now simply made her feel inadequate almost without fail. To feel so undeserving—so unloved—for the rest of her life would drive her mad. Then he’d lock her away in Bedlam.
Although, she could see he did have his reasons for his past criticisms, even if she thought he should have been kinder. These recent days had shown her the errors of her impetuous ways. Or perhaps she was simply maturing, the way traumatic events forced one to reevaluate themselves. Amelia had thought she’d done enough traumatic maturation ten years ago, after losing her father and having to face so many adults who wanted to usurp her life and keep her away from her brother.
Her first and best friend was always her brother, the other half of herself. The only other person who knew how Papa liked a bit of chocolate in his coffee or how he took three biscuits to bed with him every night. The sound of his roaring snores. Only Sam could keep those memories alive for her, and everyone had wanted to separate them, set them on two different paths into adulthood. She and Sam had fought so hard, as mere children, to stay connected. Now... now Death wanted to take him. She’d fight Death too, if she had to.
But at least she wasn’t doing it alone. She’d had Sam back then, and she had Graham now. However this ended, she wouldn’t forget that Graham had tried. She sighed inwardly. She would not hate him anymore. She couldn’t promise she’d like him, but she wouldn’t hate him. She’d no longer insult him for his stodgy attitude, boring demeaner, or scalding judgment. He was serious and steady, and she could respect that.
“Are you ready?” he asked, breaking through her thoughts.
“We’re here already?”
The door opened, and he stepped out, waiting to hand her down. She placed her hand in his, stepping out and standing by his side. He linked their arms and placed his hand over hers, where it rested on his forearm. The touch sent tingles up her arm, but Amelia didn’t pull away. In fact, she wondered what it would be like if they stayed like this. How would it feel to be close all night, tender with each other, affectionate? What if she pretended to be a woman hewouldwant to marry? A woman who did not embarrass him or insult him, one who let him be the one in control—at least sometimes. Part of her revolted at the idea, but another softer part, a tired part, wanted to let go, let him carry the weight of expectation for both of them. She was sure he could do it easily with those broad shoulders of his.
They entered the front hall, lining up with the other guests to greet their host.
He leaned in. “You’re quiet,” he said.
