“What? Oh, Miss Tate.” He approached and stepped around her so slowly she did not realize he was trying to block her exit until he had. His voice was gentle as he cajoled, “There is no need for all that.”
“For what?” Amelia’s heart beat fast in her chest. “I simply wish to return to the ball. I do not want to listen to poetry any longer. Please, take me back to Miss Ashwood.”
“Do you really wish to return?”
“I do.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“But... Mr. De Rees...”
“This is not how they said you would be,” he murmured. He shifted his weight on his feet, his eyes trained on her face, fists clenched at his side. “Not how you appeared at all, either. You followed me out after all. You must have known somewhat. A woman would not follow a man she does not know outdoors unless... Unless...”
Amelia took a step back, flinching as something moved in the hedges nearby. Likely a hare, though it felt like a specter. Mr. De Rees seized the advantage, stepping closer, and Amelia gasped.
“Your compliance thus far means my every suspicion was true. It is only now that you wish to make things difficult for me.” His voice rose, as though he had any reason to be angry. “Or is this the game you always play? Yes, I wonder...”
“I do not know what you are saying,” Amelia whispered, afraid. “But please, let me go and I—”
“It’s alright,” the man said quietly, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I understand how this might look. But I did not lead you out here to hurt you.”
“I… I don’t understand,” she said, breathlessly.
“You are Amelia Tate, the daughter of Hammond and Olivia Tate.” It was not a question but a fact, and it made him smile.
Amelia’s breath hitched at the sound of her parents’ names. She stumbled sideways, seeking purchase on the balustrade, as his intentions became painfully clear to her.
“Colin told me all about your mother. Said she was a madwoman, and that you are mad too. You have strange fits—amoral deficiency, the demon within you. And your father, hopeless, taking his own life like that... Well...”
Mr. De Rees stepped toward her, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s really no surprise you ended up as you did, is it? All things considered, you should not mind this moment at all. You will likely not remember a thing, will you? Please, say nothing more.”
Not bearing to look at him, Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. She thought she might be sick, stunned into inaction by his accusations, his threats.
He had learned who she was.
And he planned to use it to destroy her.
CHAPTER NINE
“Iwould wager I am not the first to have walked this dark path,” Mr. De Rees continued in a whisper, falling into a crouch in front of her.
“How would you even know? That broken mind of yours cannot be trusted, evidently. You do not even know yourself. Such atempting prospect. Really, no crime may be committed if no memory exists. Do not fight me, Miss Tate...”
Tears stung behind Amelia’s eyes as he brought up his hand and stroked the back of her cheek with his knuckles, brushing away a strand of hair. She felt his breath on her neck, and her stomach churned with disgust.
Suddenly, his hands were on her waist, squeezing the skin there as he pressed himself against her. He moved slightly, taking her glove and removing it, running the tip of his nose over her wrist while the garment fell to the floor with her dance card.
She may have been mad, but she was not weak.
She thought of Freddy, of Beatrice.
Her aunt’s warning from earlier that night rang in her ears. Was this why she had never pressured Amelia into socializing? Had she known what the men of their country thought of her, believing she was an easy target?
The thought filled her with rage. Before she knew what she was doing, her knee came up hard into the man’s stomach.
He cried out in pain, tripping backward.
His hands searched for her immediately, and she clawed at him with her naked hand, her nails sinking into the skin of his face and coming away wet and hot.
