She smiled and returned to her sister. Although it was a reasonable invitation, he wondered at the wisdom of accepting. He doubted if Margaret would seriously entertain the idea of courtship after she’d been jilted once before.
Miss Harrow was a leading candidate for marriage, not only due to her kind nature, but also because he was not attracted to her beyond friendship. There was no danger of falling in love with a woman like her.
He should decline the invitation to the birthday party. Not on Margaret’s behalf, but because every time he was in Amelia’s presence, he found himself watching her. She had always caught his eye, even when she was too young to join in the soirées and the dancing.
Shewas the danger, not her sister. She might be a meddling sort, with the genuine intent to help others…but he sensed an invisible thread pulling him toward her. Earlier, in the garden, Amelia had caught him unawares when she’d claimed to be in love with the viscount. Her naïveté would bring her into ruin if she wasn’t careful.
But then he’d revealed too much to her. She’d looked upon him with the eyes of a woman who sympathized with him. Although David hadn’t wanted her pity, it was the sudden pulse of awarenessthat caught him off guard. Her green eyes had shone with unshed tears while she’d lifted her face to his. If he’d dared to lower his defenses, she might have rested her cheek against his beating heart, offering the comfort of an embrace.
And God above, it had been so long.
So many times, he’d awakened in the night, reaching for the empty pillow beside him. Sometimes he imagined the scent of Katherine’s hair lingering. And the ache of loneliness kept him up for the remaining hours until dawn.
“Are you all right, my lord?” The voice of Miss Harrow broke through his dreaming, and he pushed back the memory.
“Yes, of course.” He escorted the young woman back to her chaperone, but it wasn’t long before he spied Amelia laughing with Lisford. The man was gawking at her, as if he worshipped the ground she walked upon. The more he stared, the more Amelia blushed.
David’s hands curled into fists. It wasn’t his concern, nor should he care what happened between the young woman and the viscount. But seeing the notorious rake flirting with her made him want to snatch her out of harm’s way. Amelia deserved better. She couldn’t see that it was all a game to Lisford.
And damn it all, he didn’t want her to lose her heart to a man who would only destroy it. Not when he could save her.
“Margaret will be delighted to see you.” Amelia greeted Lord Castledon after the footman escorted him inside the parlor. She hadn’t known if the earl would attend the party or not, but she was glad he’d come. He had also brought a gift for Matthew, and from the shape of it, Amelia already knew what it was—a hobbyhorse.It was wrapped in brown paper with a bright ribbon. The footman accepted it from the earl and took it over to the table of gifts.
Secretly, Amelia believed that she could conjure a true love match between Lord Castledon and her sister. Margaret and he had both had their hearts broken. Wasn’t it logical that they could get on with their lives together? She was convinced of it.
The earl stood at the edge of the room, as if not wanting to intrude. Once again, he was wearing black. Though it had been many years since his wife had died, it seemed that he’d never bothered to change out of mourning garb. That would have to change if he intended to seek a new wife.
“Do you own anything other than black?” Amelia whispered beneath her breath while standing beside him.
His mouth tilted at one corner. Leaning in, he kept his voice low. “No.”
“You really ought to visit a tailor,” she murmured. “Your clothes are gloomy. It will be far easier to catch a woman’s attention when you don’t resemble an undertaker.”
“But I never have any difficulty finding attire that matches,” he pointed out. “I’m told that black suits my features very well.”
“If you intend to remain in mourning, yes.” She let out a sigh and added, “Buy a dark green waistcoat. It would make a good start.”
“And here I thought you’d ask me to wear orange.” His sardonic look caught her unawares, and she suddenly felt small beside him.
Her skin tingled with awareness of how he’d whispered in her ear. Goodness, but he was tall. She smiled up at him, but it was a way of hiding the sudden rush of nerves. It made little sense at all, why she would feel anxious around this man. But when he stared back, her imagination shocked her as she wondered what it would be like to kiss this man.
Amelia had never been kissed, though she’d seen her sisters kissing their spouses when they thought she wasn’t looking. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of Lord Castledon’s mouth upon hers.
No. Absolutely not. Clearly she hadn’t eaten enough breakfast, and it was addling her brain.
If there was any man’s lips she ought to be imagining, it should be Lord Lisford’s. She shut her eyes a moment, clearing the thought away. She’d already chosen her potential husband, and it would never be a man who was still besotted with his dead wife.
“Next month, you can try orange.” With that, she led the earl over to her aunt Charlotte, who was watching over her five-year-old son, Matthew. The boy was nearly bouncing with excitement, and he chattered unceasingly with his aunts and uncles.
“You’ve met my aunt, Lady Arnsbury, I know.” Amelia stood back while the earl dutifully greeted her aunt Charlotte. His eyes passed over the other guests, who were all family members. Her parents were there, along with her sisters. The Duke of Worthingstone stood behind his wife, Victoria. Their three-year-old son, Christopher, was eyeing the table of gifts as if he believed they were for him.
It was blatantly obvious that Lord Castledon was the only person there who was not family, and he sent her a pointed look. Amelia refused to feel guilty about it. Here, among family, Margaret would be less worried about what other people would think. She might be more willing to loosen up some of her rigid rules and show the softer side of herself.
Besides that, their family knew how to have fun. And fun was something that Sir Personality-of-a-Handkerchief had not enjoyed in a long time.
“Why don’t you go and playThe House of Virtueswith Margaret?” Amelia suggested. Her sister sat at a nearby table with the linen gameboard and tin pieces. She’d been trying to teach Matthew how to play, but he’d abandoned it after five minutes.
“I haven’t played that game since I was a child,” he countered. “I think I’d rather stand back and watch.”
