Holding himself absolutely still lest he embarrass himself, Leopold required almost a full minute to find that control he’d let go of.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. Even though he wasn’t, really.
“No, I’m sorry.” She echoed his apology.
Leopold lifted his head. “Are you?”
Her throat moved and she blinked, but didn’t answer.
“Are you?” he asked again, more intently.
“I don’t know.”
BLASTED INTERRUPTIONS
Amelia arrived in the dining room to find Leopold’s seat empty, and although there were two settings at the end of the table, she couldn’t help but wonder if he would absent himself tonight.
He’d come to her chamber, but it had been Amelia who’d done the unthinkable, approaching him, kissing him. Straddling him!
It wasn’t simply that she’d decided to break every rule she’d ever learned, but she was doing it with relish. The old Amelia simply sat back and watched while this new Amelia dove into all manner of trouble utterly unchecked.
It was surprisingly satisfying.
He’d touched her bare leg and, afraid there’d be no turning back, she’d faltered. Two minutes after that, he’d shuffled her off his lap and made a hasty excuse to practically sprint out of her chamber.
She glanced outside, through one of the windows that lined the long room. It was nearly dark.
That kiss had taken place less than two hours before.
The door opened, but she was disappointed to see it was a servant rather than the man she’d been waiting for.
“Would you care for a glass of wine, my lady?” he asked, carrying a decanter with a linen cloth draped over one arm.
“Yes, please. He is coming, then? Mr. Beckworth?”
“Cook expects him, my lady.”
As he poured the contents into her glass, the servant’s stare barely flickered to her neck but then just as quickly back to his task.
Amelia’s cheeks warmed. Despite dabbing the affected area with lavender water, red marks had already blossomed there from Mr. Beckworth’s… attentions. By the time she’d realized she had a problem, it had been too late for her to prepare one of the gowns in the wardrobe. The best she could do was drape a shawl around her shoulders. She’d tried to tug it higher up around her neck, but the material refused to stay in place.
Did this servant know what had caused those marks? Could he guess? The possibility was… too appalling to think about.
Mr. Beckworth had been in her bedchamber. They had been alone.
“Thank you,” Amelia croaked, and then she cleared her throat, staring down at the empty plate in front of her.
Who was she now? What had she become? She’d shed some of the armor her parents instilled in her, leaving her feeling light and free, but did shedding that armor also make her more vulnerable?
If Mr. Beckworth did decide to join her for dinner, what would they discuss? The weather? How long he intended to keep her here?
The fact that she’d kissed him?
Thankfully, she didn’t have to sit alone with her thoughts for long. And this time when the door opened, Mr. Beckworth’s presence filled the room before she could even look up.
“My lady.” His gravelly voice echoed off the walls.
“My Lo—Mr. Beckworth.” Amelia barely caught herself. She had nearlymy lordedhim!
