“So, he has convinced you,” Brighthollow said, running his hand through his hair. Some of the thick curls fell from his queue, and when he faced her his cheeks were framed by wild tendrils that she found herself wanting to smooth.
Just as she found herself wanting to slap that same cheek.
“You must be clearer,” she insisted. “What is it you are accusing him of?”
For a moment he was silent. His mouth opened and shut, like he was trying to find words to say. Frustration and rage filtered across his face, but also something deeper. Pain. Regret.
“Your fiancé is not a good man,” he said at last. “He has…done very wrong things in the past, and I have deep suspicions that he is up to no good again. With you.”
She cocked her head. Brighthollow had stalked her across Town, found her in the ballroom, brought her out here for this big revelation, and that was all? This ambiguous accusation that Aaron was not decent?
“You are very vague,” she said softly.
“I assure you, I am very honest,” he said, just as quiet in the dim night.
“Youassureme?” she repeated. “So I am to take you on, what…your honor?”
“Yes,” he said, seeming stunned she didn’t simply accept that.
She shook her head. “I don’t evenknowyou, Your Grace. I have no idea of your motives oryourschemes. Meanwhile, I have known Aaron for—”
“A few months,” he completed for her as he folded his arms. “You think that is long enough to truly suss out a man’s character? His intentions? Does it not bother you how swiftly he wooed and engaged himself to wed you?”
She stepped back. His words had two effects. The first stirred doubt in her, for she sometimes did feel as if Aaron had rather rushed their courtship. But he was a romantic. That was what she told herself, at any rate.
The second response was something she could handle more easily. She felt angry. At Brighthollow.
“You’ve been…are youshadowinghim?” she asked. “And me? Tracking what he’s been doing and seeing? And you claimheis to be doubted? Well, what do your actions say aboutyou?”
Brighthollow let out his breath in a frustrated burst. “Your loyalty does you credit. I grant you that.”
“Don’t bother to grant me anything,” she snapped. “I don’t value your opinion of me, high or low.”
He turned his face as if she had slapped him. When he turned back, his anger burned bright in his eyes. “If you knew what he was, you would fall to your knees and thank me for warning you off of him.”
“I would never give you the pleasure of seeing me on my knees,” she said.
“That’s enough, Amelia.”
Both of them jumped as the doors to the terrace snapped shut behind them. Her father stood at them, glaring at the couple.
She gave Brighthollow one last scowl and then strode past him toward her father. “I happen to agree, Papa. I’ve certainly had enough. Excuse me, I shall return to the ball.”
She pushed the doors open and went inside, but the moment she was away from Brighthollow, all her bravado faded. It was replaced by confusion, doubt and a continued draw to the man, despite what an ogre he was.
Despite what he was trying to do to the man she had vowed to marry.
Chapter Five
As Hugh watched Amelia stomp off into the house, leaving him alone with her father, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to chase after her to shake her…or kiss her. Right now he wanted to do both. Especially when she’d conjured that image of her on her knees before him.
Now his body was as on edge as his mind, and he hated himself for how poorly he’d handled the whole night.
“You have violated my suggestion on how to handle this situation, and now look what you have done,” Lord Quinton snapped as he strode past Hugh with a look of contempt.
Hugh pivoted to glare at him. “Mind your tone, my lord. You’d do well to remember to whom you are speaking.”
Quinton cast a quick, nervous glance at him and then inclined his head. “My apologies, Your Grace. I overstepped. You must understand my frustration, though. I said you should not meet Amelia and then you did just that by arranging an invitation for her to the house of your friends.”
