Fearing she might have touched a nerve on account of his brusqueness, she pulled back a bit and considered an issue that truly puzzled her. “What I cannot figure out, is how to address a group of ladies who all hold the same title.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, let’s say there are ten duchesses in a room and—”
“An unlikely scenario since there are only five dukes in all of England and four of them are married.” He flashed her a smile that bore a teasing element to it.
Amelia allowed the effect of it to tighten her stomach before saying, “Very well, let’s say there arefourduchesses in a room.”
He nodded, but that teasing smile of his lingered. It kept her feeling slightly unsteady and incredibly aware of his mouth. Trying not to look at it directly, she settled her gaze on his eyes and immediately regretted doing so, because the look there made heat pour through her in waves. There was something predatory about it that spoke to a secret yearning deep down inside. Not that she thought the look was the product of anything other than a bit of mischief on his part. He was just having some fun with her, that was all.
So she gathered her composure and continued with her question. “How does one distinguish between them when they are all to be addressed as Your Grace?”
“I suppose one would look at the duchess to whom one was speaking.”
Amelia shook her head in disagreement. “Using their names would be so much simpler. Can you imagine a conversation they might have between themselves? I think it would become rather confusing.”
“Once again, the scenario is unlikely to occur since two of the duchesses never visit Town anymore on account of their age.”
“But surely—”
“Just use the appropriate titles, my lady. You cannot go wrong with doing that.”
Amelia wasn’t sure she agreed. She could think of at least one way in whichshecould make it go wrong, but since the carriage was pulling to a stop and Coventry had turned his attention toward the door, she decided to drop it.
They entered the town house where Mr. Gorrell had his place of business, waiting no more than five minutes in the reception room before he came to greet them. “Your Grace,” the man said without so much as a glance in Amelia’s direction. “What a delightful surprise!” He led the way through to his office and gestured toward a chair. “Please have a seat and tell me how I might be of service.”
Still standing, Coventry gave the man a solid perusal before pausing on his face. “You may begin by greeting Lady Amelia properly.”
It was as if she’d remained invisible until that point and the act of Coventry mentioning her name had made her materialize in the room. Mr. Gorrell’s eyes widened. Giving Amelia his attention, he then spoke a series of hasty apologies while keeping a wary eye on the duke. “I take it this is about the house you are interested in?” he finally asked.
“Yes.” Moving forward, Amelia went to sit down. “I’m here to pay the remainder of what I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing, lady.” Mr. Gorrell went to claim his seat behind his desk.
Coventry remained standing, hovering close to Amelia’s chair. She liked that—the solid feel of him at her back. It gave her strength and courage. “You’re mistaken,” she said. “Our agreement was for me to give you an additional two thousand five hundred pounds.”
Spreading his arms with a shrug that irked her, Mr. Gorrell leaned back against the squeaky leather of his seat and said, “I’m afraid that deal fell through when the other interested party made a higher offer.”
“No.” She could feel her stomach collapsing in a tumultuous roil of uneasiness. This couldn’t be happening. It simply could not. “You signed the sales contract. We both did. With the understanding that you wouldn’t sell the property to anyone else. I gave you three thousand pounds in order to ensure this!”
Mr. Gorrell looked at her with confusion. “Not as far as I recall. The way I remember it, you said the price was too high and that you could no longer afford it.”
“That’s not true!” Panic overcame her, sharpening her voice into something loud and shrill that she hated but couldn’t do anything about.
Mr. Gorrell crossed his arms over his stomach. “What proof do you have, my lady? The sales contract perhaps?”
“You took that because you said you needed it in order to finalize the sale. But you did give me this.” Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out a piece of paper and placed it on the table.
Coventry stepped forward to look at it. “This is a receipt signed by you, Mr. Gorrell.”
The solicitor picked up the paper and studied it. “No,” he said. “That’s not my signature.” He then pulled out a stack of papers from a drawer and placed them on top of his desk. Spreading them out, he pointed to each document in turn. “Thatis my signature. It looks entirely different.”
Picking up some of the documents, Coventry studied each one against the receipt. He looked at Amelia with a steady gaze that did little to comfort her at the moment. “They do indeed.”
“But...” She could feel herself shrinking beneath the weight of her own stupidity.
“So you see,” Mr. Gorrell said, “there is no agreement between us.”
