Once this was done, she retrieved the staggering amount of money she’d brought along with her and placed it on the table between them.
Gorrell’s fingers snatched up the notes, his lips twitching slightly while he proceeded to count them. “I shall give you a receipt,” Gorrell said. He reached for another piece of paper, scribbled a few sentences and then handed it over to Amelia before saying, “I’m also going to write up a promise note and have it delivered to your house.” All signs of pleasure vanishing from his features, he gave her a stern look. “You understand the consequence of not making good on the money you now owe me, I hope?”
Swallowing, Amelia tried not to be unnerved by the situation she was now in. “A debt collector will come to call on me.”
When he nodded, she felt her skin tighten around her shoulders. Raphe would have to be informed of her predicament, which wasn’t as awful as it might have been if he hadn’t known about her interest in the building. But he had already forwarded her an entire year’s allowance so she would be able to pay for the project and all of the renovations it would entail. The idea of asking him for more did not sit well with her at all. Besides, doing so would be impossible, since he would not be back from Paris in time to help her. Not to mention the fact that he thought she was looking to invest in a Mayfair home. This particular building would likely shock him.
“Interest will be added,” Mr. Gorrell said. He returned his things to his bag, rose, and gave her a solemn look. “So I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Thank you, sir. You needn’t worry about getting paid.” With that promise, she walked him out into the drafty foyer. “If you don’t mind, I would like to remain here a little and take a closer look at the various issues.”
Without arguing, he handed her the keys. “Just be sure to lock the door when you leave, or you’ll have squatters living here by the end of the day. I’ve a spare set at my office, which I’ll hand over to you when you make the last payment.”
Thanking him for his advice, she bid him a good day and waited for him to leave. The house was almost hers, and nothing in the world had ever felt more satisfying than that. Not even the missing wall paneling in the library could put a damper on the good mood she was now in. Unfortunately, not a single book remained on the shelves. They’d probably been sold along with the furniture and other items; an entire life’s worth of thoughtful purchases broken up into parts.
Moving on to the dining room, she noticed damp spots on the walls. The floor warped beneath her feet, and beyond the three tall windows she could see a tangle of untamed shrubs and weeds.
When she started up the main stairs and felt the railing give way against rot, she wondered if she’d been a fool not to walk away. “Five thousand five hundred pounds.” The sum ghosted through the dank space, preceding her onto the landing. “I must be mad.” At three thousand, she might have been able to sell the place and turn a profit if her project failed and she was forced to do so.
Expelling a breath, she stepped over a puddle and went to look out one of the bedroom windows. The rain was picking up, and people on the street below were moving faster. She would have to join them soon if she was to get home before Juliette and Lady Everly returned. And since there was no point in lingering here, she decided to head back out now before it really started to pour.
With that in mind, she turned to leave the room but was halted when a loud thud shook the walls. It almost sounded like the front door slamming, which could only mean that someone else was now in the house with her. Stopping to listen, she held her breath for so long she almost managed to convince herself she must have imagined the whole thing. Until footsteps began tapping a slow and torturous beat.
Amelia felt her heart thump with discomfort, then chastised herself for being so silly. It was probably just Mr. Gorrell, who’d forgotten to tell her something. But wouldn’t he call out to her then? Looking around, she spotted a piece of dislodged planking. It wasn’t exactly her weapon of choice, but it would have to do.
So she grabbed it with both hands, then tiptoed back out onto the landing. There, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to stay calm. She was not some helpless woman. Her brother had showed her how to defend herself against men who might threaten her.
With this in mind, she started down the stairs, pausing every now and again in order to listen. Nothing. She continued forward, stepping onto the floor below without making a sound. Again she listened, this time hearing the scraping of heels against wood. Her stomach tightened, as did her hold on the board she carried. Glancing across at the front door, she considered making a run for it. But then what? She’d lock up the house with a stranger inside?
Another noise came from the hallway, and Amelia swung toward it. She was now determined to get rid of whoever it was who had chosen to enter without permission. Rounding a corner, she watched as a shadow slid across the floor and disappeared into the study. Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t let that put an end to her hunt. She was chasing him, not the other way around, which meant she had the element of—
A tall broad-shouldered figure stepped out, and Amelia screamed as she swung the plank straight at the intruder. Except the hallway’s width did not allow for her to make a full rotation. Instead, she struck the wall with a bang that sent tremors shooting through her hands. She dropped the plank and, finding herself unarmed, curled her fingers into a fist and proceeded to strike.
A large hand grabbed hold of her wrist before she delivered the blow. So she tried with the other until this too was trapped by her attacker, which left her with only one choice. Swinging her leg back, she prepared to kick as hard as she could.
“Stop!”
The voice that spoke froze her in place more effectively than anything else would have. It prompted her heart to thump out a much faster rhythm. Beneath her woolen dress she could feel her skin prick with a flush of mortified heat. Pulling breaths into her lungs, she forced herself to look up and acknowledge the fact that the man who held her was worse than a stranger. And as her eyes met Coventry’s from beneath her dark lashes, she knew what it meant to be truly afraid, because she had never in all of her life seen a man look back at her with such intense fury.
Chapter 5
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
His eyes darkened as he stared down at her upturned face. “I should be asking you that question.” The familiar pleasantness with which he usually spoke had been replaced by a chilling austerity. Feet planted slightly apart, his solid stance afforded him a commanding look that stretched up his long legs to a broad torso and shoulders that now appeared wider than ever before.
Tiny shivers rose up her spine, sinking beneath her skin in an icy cluster of dread. He was no longer the kind and jovial man she’d fallen in love with, but someone else entirely—someone she’d never met before. “Please. You’re—”
“Tell me,” he demanded. The words rushed past his teeth in a dangerous whisper.
Drawing back, Amelia tugged on the wrists he still held while doing her best to stay calm. He remained immovable, his strength much greater than hers, and although she knew he would not hurt her, she couldn’t help the panic that claimed her in the face of such dominating power.
“Let me go.”
Confusion widened his eyes until he dropped his gaze to where he held her. Something painful came alive in his gaze, and without warning he released her as swiftly as he had grabbed her, then took a few steps back. There he stood now, scowling at her, while his chest rose and fell with strenuous movements. The pain she’d caught sight of had vanished, banked beneath layers of harsher emotions.
“You lied to us about being unwell.” There was nothing accusatory about the way in which he spoke. He was just stating a fact, and yet the manner in which he said it shrouded her in guilt.
“I’m sorry, but I had to come here.”
