Startled by the question, Amelia took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. Yes, they were here to discuss the renovations, not for her to have a lust-induced fantasy while undergoing some sort of feminine awakening.
“The light spilling in from these windows over here would make this an excellent room for art. We can put a partition over here, perhaps one that can easily be removed at a later date if necessary. It doesn’t have to be made from brick.”
“You are thinking of a wooden one?”
“It would be faster and have less of an impact on the structure of the building, I should think.”
He studied the spot she’d indicated on the floor. “If you move it a little bit further to the right, you may be able to have an extra window on this side. You will still get enough light for the art room, but it will prevent this room over here from being too dark.”
It was something she’d been considering; she just hadn’t wanted the art room to be too small since space would be required for easels. But perhaps that was a sacrifice she would have to make since the other classroom would need a decent amount of light as well—at least enough for the students to read and write. To use oil lamps or candles during the day would be ridiculous.
“You are right,” she said. “Dividing the space like that does make more sense.”
His gaze drove into hers. “You do not have to agree with me.”
“I know.” She turned to continue on through to the dining room as she’d initially planned, satisfied with the knowledge that she’d left him looking as unstable as she had felt a few moments earlier.
Keeping a moderate amount of distance, Thomas followed Lady Amelia while she made her tour of the house with her maid never more than a few paces away. That must have been Lady Everly’s doing, for which he had to allow a degree of appreciation since he might otherwise have taken advantage several times already.
Arriving in the dining room, he studied the cracks in the plaster and the spots of rot in the flooring. The plaster would be easily repaired, the floor not so much. A lot of boards would have to be replaced and if Lady Amelia decided to match the wood, it would probably be expensive. But he would advise her to do so since it would at least restore the splendor of the house and make it easier for her to sell in case the school didn’t work out.
Not that he didn’t expect it to now that he’d gotten to know her better. She had a powerful will. It propelled her forward regardless of the obstacles placed in her path. And although he’d had to threaten Mr. Gorrell in order to conclude the business with him, Lady Amelia had not shied away from the scoundrel when he’d all but told her that he was taking her money and giving her nothing in return. Indeed, she’d faced him head-on, insisting she was in the right and he was in the wrong.
It wasn’t until Mr. Gorrell had picked her argument apart with his lies that Thomas had chosen to step in and do what Lady Amelia did not have the power to do. And now, watching as she moved around this dilapidated place she owned with beatific joy sparkling in her eyes as she planned and plotted her next course of action, he found himself overcome by her enthusiasm. It was so infectious he’d felt compelled to reach out and touch her.
What had happened next had confounded him to his core. Because there was no denying the awareness that had come to life in her gaze when he’d let his hand linger upon her arm. It had been aglow with surprise, wonder, pleasure and then... most incredibly of all... raw, unrestrained desire. The effect had been so powerful it had almost knocked him completely off center—something she’d actually accomplished seconds later when she’d tossed him a sultry smile and murmured, “I know.”
There had just been something about the expression—something that made him want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to only God knew where. He hadn’t thought that part through before reminding himself of time and place and who the lady was that he was presently thinking such dastardly things about. Huntley’s sister. Lady Amelia. An innocent debutante destined to make a prime catch this Season. He really couldn’t afford to let himself lust after her. It had been bad enough in the carriage on the way to Mr. Gorrell’s when she’d asked about using his given name. Hell, he could think of several scenarios now in which hearing her say it would be his undoing.
Glancing across at where she was presently standing in front of a large window with sunshine spilling in on her, he couldn’t help but marvel at his own idiocy. How the hell had it taken so long for him to realize how lovely she was? And not only that, but smart too and stubborn as hell and a few more things that were getting under his skin. She was different from any other woman he’d ever known—completely unique—and he wanted her more and more with each passing second.
It was all because of that damnable dress she’d worn to the Elmwood ball. Although he had to admit she would have gotten his attention without it the moment she’d brought out her business plan. Becausethatwas not something he’d been expecting. Not in the least. Indeed, it had positively stumped him that she had endeavored to put such a thing together and then proceeded to present it with such unequivocal professionalism. To say he was impressed would be an understatement. But to actually pursue her... He simply couldn’t. Because doing so would involve marriage, and that was something he couldn’t offer. Not when all of his attention had to be pinned on his responsibility and the boy who needed him. There was no room in his life for another person as long as Jeremy depended on his help.
With that in mind, he trained his features into something bland that he hoped would mask his true feelings. “Would you like me to interview the laborers you plan on hiring?” he asked when they returned to the foyer.
“If you don’t mind, that would be helpful,” she said. They stepped outside with her maid in tow, and he waited while Lady Amelia locked the door. “Perhaps we can have another outing tomorrow? I would like to decide on the windows since ordering them may take some time. The same can be said of the flooring.”
His heart rolled over in his chest at the very idea of seeing her again so soon, but he reminded himself that it might be advisable not to—that a few days apart would be in the best interest of both of them. “I am afraid I have some other commitments that I must attend to for the next few days. Next week would work better.”
With a nod that failed to convey what she was thinking, she started toward the awaiting carriage with him by her side. “Very well,” she told him plainly. A tight smile followed. “Next week it is then.”
Arriving home, Thomas removed his gloves, discarded them on a table in the foyer and continued up the stairs to the nursery. “Hello,” he said as he entered. He deliberately kept his voice quiet but cheerful.
Both his mother and the nurse looked his way. They offered greetings of their own with smiles to go with them. Jeremy, however, kept his eyes on the canvas before him, his concentration fixed on his paintbrush’s circular movement.
“He is painting a carriage,” his mother explained.
Thomas didn’t comment. He crouched next to the child and studied what was meant to be a wheel. The carriage would probably be added later. “Has he finished his morning lessons?”
His mother and the nurse exchanged a look before his mother rose and gestured for him to follow. They retreated some distance and she quietly explained, “Miss Greyer has handed in her notice.”
Thomas felt his jaw tighten. “Why?”
“She said she found Jeremy impossible to work with.” Her eyes reflected the despair he knew she felt. “Jeremy didn’t engage in conversation about any of the topics Miss Greyer tried to bring up in an effort to engage his interest, and after a while he just started repeating something, she said, over and over.” Her brows knit with worry. “She called him a daft little idiot.”
Thomas felt his temples begin to pound in response to the blood that rushed to the top of his head. Miss Greyer was fortunate to have taken her leave before he’d learned of this incident, or she might have gotten her neck wrung for spouting such insensitive cruelty.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he told his mother tightly, “Thank you for letting me know.” He glanced to where Jeremy sat and drew a deep breath. “No more governesses.”
