Damn.He wasn’t happy to let her go. It had been torture, every day, and Wilde was not helping his resolve. But it wasn’t about him. “She loves your world. She loves the color and the music and the fabrics and even the people, though I can’t for the life of me see why. She’s better off there.”
“Do you love her?”
“Of course I bloody love her. Frankly, I don’t know how you were engaged to her for fifteen yearswithoutfalling in love with her. She’s intelligent and kind and completely aggravating. She’s honest, brutally so at times, but it’s always because she wants to make things better than they are. And I want her in my life forever.”
I want her in my life forever.Saying the words out loud tattooed them onto his very soul.I want her in my life forever.
Wildeforde chuckled. “For a successful businessman and engineer, you can be completely cotton-headed, you know. If you want her, and you know that she wants to spend time in society, then your decision is made for you. It’s not that complicated. Go to London. Put the effort in.”
Go to London.His stomach tied itself up in knots at the thought. London would have been difficult enough before the blasted house party. To go there now, after everything he’d done, after all the damage and humiliation he’d caused. Could he do it? Could he face his wife again?
Could he live lifewithoutfacing her again?
Benedict ran his fingers through his hair, gripping it tightly. “But how do I convince her that I mean it? I said some awful, awful things to her. I was the worst kind of cad. You have no idea.”
“What’s the biggest gesture you could make?”
Chapter34
Amelia’s dance card was no longer the pleasure it had once been. Oh, it filled as quickly as it had before, and the same men still jockeyed for pride of place, but the dancing itself was no longer enjoyable.
She strained against Lord Lionell’s inappropriate hold, trying to maintain the acceptable distance between them. But there was nothing she could do about the slow lowering of his hand below her waist.
“How is Lady Lionell? Is she still volunteering for the children’s hospital?”
“Wouldn’t have a clue,” he responded. “She has her business. I have mine.” His leer suggested that hisbusinessdid not involve charitable work.
“She’s so admirable, yourwife. I must call on her now that I’m back in London.”
He grinned. “Call on Thursday. She has some book group or needlework thing and will be out for hours.”
Amelia shuddered. He was the third man to proposition her in as many hours. “Have you met my husband?”
“I don’t think so.” His voice was as dismissive as the slight shrug he gave.
“Oh, you’d remember if you had. He’s six feet six inches with fists the size of Christmas hams. And you know those common-born types. Such hotheads. I once saw him destroy a door because it didn’t open quickly enough. Split the thing in two. I’m forever having to replace furniture. I will pass on your regards.”
The blood drained from Lord Lionell’s face, and he released her as though she were burning a hole through his gloves. “There’s no need…That is to say, I hope you didn’t misinterpret…I…”
“Thank you for the dance.” She swept into a deep curtsey to hide her smile. If she was to be subjected to constant solicitations, then she might as well enjoy making them panic.
Her friends were gathered halfway between the entrance and the refreshment table, framed by exotic plants and a chandelier—the perfect position to see everything and be seen by everyone. Men rotated in and out of orbit around them, hoping for a dance. A cluster of debutantes lingered a few feet farther out, desperate for some attention.
Amelia had a place there, right at the center. But she hung by the refreshment table, delaying her return. There was only so much petty gossip one could handle in an evening.
On the other side of the room—looking very comfortable on furniture by the wall with no flattering lighting—sat a group of women the old Amelia had dismissed out of hand. Women who had been too bookish, too unconventional, too frightfully uncaring of society’s expectations.
I’d wager their conversation is interesting.
But the question remained, how could she approach these women who didn’t give two figs for her?
Fiona would know. Fiona would just stroll on over and say something exceptionally interesting and thought-provoking, and these women would welcome her with eager arms.
What Amelia wouldn’t give to have her friend with her now. What she wouldn’t give to have anyone from home.
She and Cassandra had exchanged letters almost daily, but there had been nothing from Benedict. Not since she’d walked out.
Which was good. He was respecting her decision.
