His expression didn’t change. “I thought your sister’s name was on the list of candidates.”
Amelia sighed. “Not if you won’t even give her the chance to have a happy marriage. She doesn’t deserve a life where you’recomparing her to Saint Katherine, the Wife Who Could Do No Wrong.”
The earl raked a hand through his dark hair, impatience flaring upon his mouth. “You should learn to temper your words, Miss Andrews.”
“Since I have no intention of being with a man like you, it hardly matters what I say. I only ask that you leave me to make my own choices.” Amelia took a breath, trying to hold back her anger. “I’ve done what I could to help you. You should do the same for me.”
“He’s no good for you,” Lord Castledon warned. He leaned one hand against the stone wall, and Amelia suddenly realized that she was standing entirely too close to this man. The scent of sandalwood emanated from his skin, and she found herself intrigued by it. Her gaze fixated upon his mouth, and a sudden flush came over her cheeks. This was an experienced man, one who had knowledge of kissing and what went on behind closed bedroom doors.
His body was solid, and she suspected that beneath the tailored coat and shirt was a muscled man. In her mind, she tried to compare him to Lord Lisford. But while the viscount was amiable and teasing, the earl was quiet and tense. She ought to be irritated by Castledon…but instead, she found his sudden outburst captivating.
The flare of anger still lingered in his blue eyes, and she suddenly realized how badly she’d misjudged him. This man did have a hidden passionate side…but he would never show it to any woman. He was completely unattainable, like a man formed of ice.
She blinked, wondering what had prompted her to think of him in such a way. Lord Castledon wasn’t a man she wanted at all. But she couldn’t deny that when she was so near to him, she grew aware of the hard cast of his jaw and his hidden strength. He was broad-shouldered and so tall she had to tilt her head back. Right now, he was eyeing her as if he wanted to take her apart.
“I’ll be the judge of which man is good for me,” she replied. Then she turned back from him, wondering why her heart was pounding so fiercely.
David stood against the far wall, inwardly furious. Amelia’s insistence that he leave her alone to make her own choices was akin to watching her throw herself off a mountain. She was too trusting in others, too eager to see the good in people.
He didn’t want her to be hurt the way her sister Margaret had been. Viscount Lisford took too many risks and seemed to relish the danger. The man had made many enemies among the ton, but it only seemed to make him more attractive to the women.
He shouldn’t care. What did it matter if Amelia Andrews chose to throw herself at a man who would only use her dowry to fund his gambling habits? It was her life, wasn’t it?
But when he watched her enter the ballroom, her face flaming, he saw in her a spirit that should not be dimmed. She needed to be protected, even if she was unaware of the danger.
In his waistcoat pocket, he touched the folded letter his daughter had written to her mother, so many years ago. It was a physical reminder that he had to try again, though he didn’t want to.
One of the ladies on Amelia’s list, Miss Georgina Pearson, was standing with her mother nearby. This was it, then. Time to take his first steps toward leaving behind his widower existence and learning to find someone else.
At first glance, Miss Pearson was fair enough. She had green eyes and long brown hair that was pinned up with a few curls about her face.
Just go and speak with her, he urged himself.
He made it halfway across the room before another gentleman stepped in and invited Miss Pearson to dance. She beamed and accepted, fanning herself as she followed the young man to line up across from him in a country dance.
“Would you like my help in making introductions?” a female voice spoke from behind him. David turned and saw Lady Lanfordshire smiling at him. He bowed and greeted her. “I would be grateful for it.”
There was no sign of her husband, Lord Lanfordshire, but Margaret stood at her mother’s side. “I believe you have met my daughter Margaret, of course,” the matron said.
He bowed to her. “Miss Andrews, how are you?”
Margaret murmured a response, but she appeared more distracted than usual. Her gaze remained upon her younger sister, and David saw that Lord Lisford was already talking with Amelia.
“Would you like me to introduce you to Miss Harrow?” Lady Lanfordshire said, when David didn’t ask Margaret to dance. He supposed he should have, but Miss Andrews had already excused herself to go to the ladies’ retiring room.
He agreed, but it was difficult to take his gaze off Amelia. As he walked alongside Lady Lanfordshire, she sent him a knowing look. “My youngest daughter has always been a girl who wants to help others, whether they want her assistance or not.”
“Lord Lisford is definitely a man in need of assistance from a large dowry.” He decided there was little point in mincing words. Amelia’s mother was well aware of the viscount’s debts.
“The more I try to tell Amelia what she shouldn’t do, the more she runs headlong into danger,” Lady Lanfordshire insisted. “She has an impulsive, meddling nature.”
“Then how do you protect her?”
“Once she’s put her mind to it, stopping Amelia is like trying to capture a thunderstorm. I fear she’s destined to have her heartbroken one day.” The matron sent him a rueful gaze. “As a parent yourself, I’m certain you’ve encountered willfulness.”
He had, for Christine had inherited his own stubborn nature. “My daughter has spent many hours staring at the wall after she was defiant,” he admitted.
“But how do you punish a young woman who only wants to help others? Amelia hasn’t a cruel bone in her body. She genuinely believes there is good in the man. Am I to punish her for trying to help someone?”
