The door clicked shut as he exited the room, leaving her alone with a man whose temper had once again risen to an uncontrollable level.
Thomas wasn’t sure what to think. Indeed, he found hecouldnot think as long as combustive heat drummed through his brain in a blazing inferno of violent emotions. Body tense in an effort to hold himself in check lest he send a vase flying against the nearest wall, he stared at the woman who continued to send him into fits of fury. She looked absolutely lovely this evening with her curls loosely piled at the back of her head. A dress sewn from golden silk gauze afforded her skin with a warm hue that made her appear as though she was bathed in sunshine.
He’d welcomed her when she’d arrived but his reaction to her—the quickening of his pulse and the way in which his chest had tightened with longing the moment he’d met her gaze—had prompted him to retreat to the gaming room. Remaining there had seemed like an excellent solution until his mother had sought him out and insisted he make more of an effort. When she’d mentioned Lady Amelia’s waltz with Mr. Lowell, something primal had taken root and he’d not wasted another second in seeking her out. Fortunately, he’d managed to catch a glimpse of her retreating form from the opposite side of the ballroom, so he’d had some idea of where to find her. What had not worked in his favor was the massive throng of guests who’d kept on blocking his path while he’d tried to reach his destination.
And then, once he did reach it, he’d been handed an image that had made his blood boil in his veins. Clarity had fled his mind, replaced by an intrinsic need to toss Mr. Lowell aside so he could take his place. It was an urge that defied all logic—one that warred with his common sense. He could not be more than friends with Lady Amelia, but he would be damned if he was going to allow Mr. Lowell to lay a hand on her instead.
Selfish bastard.
“Have you no care for your reputation?” he asked. Perhaps speaking would drown out his conscience.
“Of course I do.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but she did not, which forced him to ask, “Then what were you thinking to let yourself be alone with Mr. Lowell like that?” When she only glared at him, he took a step toward her. “Answer me, Lady Amelia.”
“Or what?”
Clenching his jaw, he moved closer still. “I could tell Lady Everly,” he threatened. “Maybe that will teach you to take better care since you do not seem to worry about my regard for your safety.”
Amelia’s eyes widened with just the right amount of trepidation. “Please don’t.”
“No?” He came to a halt directly before her. “Then perhaps you will answer my question and tell me what you were thinking to let yourself be alone with Mr. Lowell.”
“I wasn’t. Thinking, that is.”
She crossed her arms, and his eyes instinctively dropped to the perfect swell of her breasts. Flexing his fingers, he fought the itch that compelled him to touch her right there—to explore the soft shapes with his hands. His gut tightened at the thought of taking such liberty with her, his mind creating all sorts of arguments in his favor. Except she’d been here with Mr. Lowell, and she had not looked the least bit displeased by the man’s attentions. That thought grated.
“What did he want?” Thomas asked, though he supposed the man had wanted exactly the same as what he did. Again, he clenched his fists and fought for some measure of calm.
“He wished to make me an offer of marriage.” She spoke so matter-of-factly she might as well have been speaking of current events or the weather. “I declined.”
Relief swept through him on a wave of unequivocal joy. It banished most of the anger, returning him to a state of comfortable relaxation though he still had to understand her reasoning. “Why?”
“Because I do not love him.” Her answer was simple and to the point. “I know your mother and Lady Everly were quite set on him, and frankly, so was I until a few minutes ago when I realized that marriage ought to accomplish more than satisfying everyone else’s dreams.”
“I see.”
“Do you really?” Her tone was not the least bit pleasant but rather accusatory.
“You wish to make a love match, and since you have not found the right man with whom to do so, you will continue to wait for him to come along.”
“And will you chase him off, as well?” she asked without the slightest hint of surrendering the subject anytime soon.
Thomas braced himself. “Of course not. What a ridiculous thing to ask when you know I want you to make a happy match for yourself.”
She stared at him, her breaths coming in the same uneasy way his had the moment he’d burst into the room. “You are unbelievable!”
“I—”
“You have done nothing but stand in the way of such a possibility, frightening Mr. Burton with your dukely authority and then telling me he isn’t good enough when he most certainly is. And now, with Mr. Lowell, you act as though he has committed some terrible wrong when all he did was extend the most wonderful proposal a woman such as myself could possibly hope to receive.”
“He was charming, was he?” Thomas felt the edge of his anger begin to return.
She pinned him with a glare. “Incredibly so.”
“Then perhaps you should reconsider and accept him after all.” Incensed by her high regard for the man, Thomas leaned in, crowding her with his presence.
“Perhaps I should!”
