“We will start with a typical country dance,” his mother announced once he and Amelia had stepped into the center of the ballroom. A beat began and he held out his hand. She placed hers over it and it occurred to him she was making a particular effort to touch him as little as possible, the point of contact so light it was barely there at all.
Annoyed for some reason he couldn’t explain, he led her through the paces at a leisurely speed, turning, stepping aside and moving forward with precise movements. Today, she had no difficulty with her steps. Even the reel and cotillion were executed with success. It was almost as if her annoyance with him lent an element of focus she’d been denied before. Which seemed absurd. If anything, he would have thought it would have been the other way around.
“And now for the waltz,” his mother said. “If you manage that as well as the previous dances, Lady Amelia, you are bound to become a remarkable success.”
Thomas took his position across from her. She still refused to meet his gaze, her eyes trained on a spot right next to his shoulder. The effect of her standoffishness—the contrast it held to the last time they’d danced—was such that he felt compelled to force a reaction from her. Any reaction would do at this point. So he stepped toward her the moment his mother began to clap and pulled her into his arms.
A gasp flew from between Lady Amelia’s lips as he swept her into the dance a second earlier than she’d expected. Her eyes were brightened with amusement before she banked the emotion with a glare that pushed at his chest. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Tightening his hold, he leaned in and whispered, “I am dancing, Lady Amelia, that is all.”
They were close, not quite inappropriately so, but enough for him to notice the way her tendons worked in her neck, straining against the rapid beat of her pulse. He’d unnerved her again, and if her hitched breath had not been enough to confirm this, her sudden missteps did.
“Damn you, Coventry.” Fire burned in her eyes, swallowing the brown and leaving nothing but dazzling green.
He clutched her tighter in order to steady her pace, and perhaps for another reason as well, though he chose not to think of what that might be. Those eyes, however. Hell, he couldn’t stop looking at them no matter how much they conveyed her annoyance with him.
But he wasn’t going to admit the effect they had on him either, how they seemed to steal his breath and shake his heart. So he chose to tell her a truth—one he never shared with anyone. He wouldn’t have mentioned it now if she hadn’t given it power. But since she had, he told her gently, “I have been damned for the last five years, my lady. A curse from you can hardly make matters worse.”
Color drained from her face, leaving her pale and with a startled expression that almost bordered on pity. Hating it, he spun them around, leading her in a series of wide circles that quickened their pace until they were both breathing harder. Would they ever resolve this tension between them? he wondered. It had risen like a brick wall, and Thomas wasn’t entirely sure of how to knock it back down or if doing so would even be possible. He hoped it would be, for he rather missed the smiles Lady Amelia had always bestowed upon him. They’d been so full of genuine happiness they made him want to smile too, no matter how rotten his day might be.
But she didn’t appear to be in any mood for reconciliation at the moment, and he had to admit that his most recent remark didn’t make it seem as though he might be either. Except he was. As disappointed as he was in her, especially for lying, he desperately wanted to put their dispute behind them and get back to their amicable repartee. He continued to ponder that thought until his mother clapped the final beat and he drew Lady Amelia to a stop. Perhaps if they could have a chance to speak privately?
“Mama,” he said as he led Lady Amelia toward the spot where his mother was standing beside Lady Everly and Lady Juliette. “The dances have exhausted us. Do you mind if we take a turn in the garden and get some fresh air before I continue with Lady Juliette?”
His mother considered the request for a moment. She glanced toward the French doors leading out onto the terrace, then returned her gaze to him. “I see no harm in it as long as you remain within view.”
As if disappearing from view was an option on the stretch of green that sat between the house and the park. “Thank you,” he said without pointing that out. “We won’t be very long.”
Whatever Lady Amelia’s thoughts were on his attempt to whisk her away from the others, she didn’t voice them. Rather, she accompanied him in complete silence and with renewed stiffness to her stride.
“I must confess this hostility between us is beginning to grate on me,” he said, leading her out to the terrace.
“Then you obviously have no patience for combat since it has only been little more than twenty-four hours since our falling-out.”
He gave her a humorless smile. “Is this how you wish to continue? With each of us throwing sharp rejoinders at the other until we eventually say the one thing that will ruin our friendship forever?”
“No.” She sighed. “Of course not. But you are obviously still angry with me and I... well, to be honest, I thought my irritation with you had subsided until you arrived this afternoon.”
Not knowing what to say to that exactly, he drew her toward the steps leading down to the lawn. A couple of trees stood in one corner close to the hedge that hugged the fence. Beneath them sat a stone bench, partially shaded by overhanging branches. It was a much finer day today than it had been yesterday. The sun had turned the cloudless sky a bright shade of blue, the golden rays enhancing the colors around them with an almost surreal vibrancy that shifted everything else to the background. It was just him and her now, secluded from the outside world in this tiny piece of heaven the garden had to offer.
They reached the bench and he motioned for her to sit, which she did while he remained standing. “I am not the sort of man who stubbornly insists on being right. While I do strive to avoid mistakes, I am not without fallibility.” Raising her gaze, she looked at him in a different way than she had done since his arrival. Her eyes were more studious now, more attentive and somehow more alert. It prompted him to continue. “With this in mind, I have assessed our conversation yesterday at great length and found...” It was vital he chose his next words wisely in order to avoid making matters worse. “The way in which I responded to your behavior was unacceptable. Please accept my apology with the assurance that I will never insult you in such a way again.”
“Thank you, but my behavior, as you put it, was deserving of your wrath. I acted carelessly because I wanted to accomplish my goal. The obstacles in my path didn’t matter—I was too intent on thwarting them by whatever means necessary.”
Pressing her lips together, she appeared to be suddenly lost and uncertain, and the innate need that followed, to sit down beside her and pull her into his arms, was quick and powerful. He resisted it only because of his strict upbringing, and then immediately wondered what on earth had come over him.
Her next words chased his fragile ponderings away. “You’re not the only one who needs to apologize, Coventry. What I did was reckless, just as you said, for numerous reasons. Lying to you only made matters worse and I... I now fear it will influence the opinion you have of my character. Which is why I must assure you that I don’t make a habit of being dishonest. But I felt it was necessary at the time, though I was wrong to do so, and for that I am sincerely sorry.”
Her features softened until nothing but genuine remorse remained. It shone from her eyes and traced the curve of her lips in a desperate plea for forgiveness. “It occurs to me that I never asked you about your reasoning.” Stepping closer, he allowed himself to sit down beside her while keeping a respectable amount of distance between them. “Why did you do it, Lady Amelia? Why is acquiring that house so important to you that you would risk so much in order to obtain it?”
It took a while for her to speak. In fact, he’d begun to think she wouldn’t answer, her gaze fixed on a flower bed filled with a lovely collection of roses. The sweet scent permeated the air while bees buzzed to and fro in their lively search for nectar.
“One of the hardest things about moving into this grand house and being dressed like a princess, besides knowing I’ll never truly fit in and that some will always question my suitability, is remembering the people I left behind—especially the children.” She swallowed and then clenched her jaw before looking at him with liquid-green pools of emotion. “I cannot stand the idea of having so much when they have so little, that some improbable stroke of luck has elevated me to this, and for what? Unless I put my wealth to good use and do something meaningful with it, what point does it have?”
“I cannot say, besides offering you a comfortable life that you would have been denied if your brother had not inherited the title.”
“And just look at the series of events that had to take place in order for that to happen.” She shook her head and produced a weak laugh. “For years I’ve accepted my fate, believing that if I was lucky I might one day marry a blacksmith. Instead, I find myself pursuing some of the wealthiest men in England.”
