What of it?
That was all he had to say for himself? What of it?
Were all men destined to betray her?
First, all that business with Lord Winterhope. Then her father and brother, and their shady dealings in Jamaica. And she couldn’t forget the kidnapping, which led her to believe her family was also somehow cheating the Duke of Crossings.
But of course he was a smuggler!
And to think she’d wanted him to kiss her.
To think she’d believed he was different—that he had a heart!
“I’ve had enough of this tour.” Her voice came out trembling. “Thank you.”
Careful to give him a very wide berth, she marched past him, easily located the door to her chamber, and slammed it behind her.
She had wanted to kiss him! She’d wanted a smuggler to kiss her!
Once inside, she paced back and forth several times. What did this mean? Even knowing he was a smuggler still didn’t explain why she was here.
Feeling like her heart was going to explode right out of her chest, she lowered herself onto a chair. There was nothing fancy about it, but of course, it was one of the most comfortable chairs she’d ever sat in.
But that was of no matter. She was such a fool!
Propping her elbows on her knees, she rested her forehead in her hands.
He was a smuggler!
What of it?
What had she thought he’d done to get his money? It wasn’t as though he’d been educated at Oxford, and he’d outright told her he hadn’t inherited anything, let alone a large enough sum to buy up those inns.
Or this massive, if not unorthodox, manor.
Of course he was a smuggler.
Smuggler’s Manor.Amelia groaned.Smuggler’s Manor!
The truth had quite literally been written in iron. Was she really that stupid? That gullible? He’d done nothing to hide who he was.
Absolutely nothing.
But what did this mean?
From the moment he’d stopped her father’s carriage, she’d found him extraordinarily handsome—in a rugged, very unpretentious kind of way.
And just before that, hadn’t she been wishing for something different to come along and sweep her off her feet? For something or someone to rescue her from that gloomy future with Lord Northwoods?
Well, Mr. Beckworth had certainlyswept her off her feet, and he said he intended to protect her, but he’d never claimed to want torescueher in the way she’d imagined.
Had she built him into the person she wanted him to be?
Amelia pressed her hand to her belly. It was flat, a little soft, but most notably, unrestrained. Unconfined.
Had the moment he’d cut off her corset altered something, in a physical way, that was playing with her mind?
But other evidence, conversations and gestures, pushed their way into the argument.
