Amelia stared at Lady Everly’s expectant gaze. “I never...” She shook her head and let the words die. Accusing him of lying would not be very helpful to anyone since such a statement would likely lead to a series of other deductions that would invariably reveal what had happened in the Falconrich parlor the previous evening. So she gritted her teeth and resolved to get through the day as best as she could. “Sorry. I should have asked my maid to wake me earlier.”
“I will ring for her now so she may help you dress.” Lady Everly moved to the bellpull and then to the door. “Do try to hurry. I believe His Grace is quite eager to be on his way.”
Amelia grimaced as Lady Everly departed the room. It was just her luck to have to endure the company of a man she loved when he did not love her in return, and his lack of love for her was making her hate him enough to go mad. Thankfully, the maid brought tea and sandwiches with her when she arrived so Amelia was able to eat while having her hair combed and set. She gave herself one quick look in the mirror once she was ready, deciding the rich lavender color of her simple day dress was quite acceptable—especially since she wasnottrying to impress anyone. Far from it.
“Good afternoon, Lady Amelia,” Coventry said, greeting her when she strolled into the parlor.
She forced a smile that felt tight around the edges. “Your Grace,” she said, deliberately using the honorific.
He frowned for a second, then seemed to recover. He produced a pleasant smile. “Are you ready to depart?”
“Certainly.” She turned and strode toward the foyer with him on her heels. Even now, as irritated as she was, she could not deny the awareness she had of him. His masculinity was so overwhelming that escaping it would be impossible. Which only served to annoy her even further.
Tempted to scream, she clamped her mouth shut and allowed him to hand her up into the carriage. Climbing in after her, he took a seat on the opposite bench, his every move alerting her to his presence though she refused to look in his direction. Her eyes were stubbornly trained on a tree she was able to see out in the street.
“May I say that you look radiant today?”
No, you may not.
She forced back the tart remark and muttered a thank-you, instead.
The carriage jerked into motion and the tree vanished from sight. An awkward silence flooded the carriage, interspersed only by the faint rattle of wheels and clanking of hooves.
“Amelia.”
Coventry’s voice beseeched her to listen, though she still refused to look his way.
“Yes?”
“I am sorry about what happened yesterday.”
Her hand clutched at the edge of her seat while her fingertips dug into the upholstery. “Stop saying that!” She couldn’t bear to hear him apologize again.
“Considering your mood, I feel that I must.”
That did it.
She snapped her head around to meet his gaze, ignoring the way his brow furrowed with concern. “My mood?” He just stared at her, no doubt taken aback by her cutting tone. “Is it not to your liking? Would you perhaps prefer it if I pretended that nothing has changed between us?”
He seemed to consider that and then finally said the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Yes. I believe I would.”
Anger clutched at her brain, threatening to dismantle it with its overpowering strength. “You... ass!”
“I should not have kissed you, Amelia. It was a mistake to do so and I am—”
“Tell me you’re sorry one more time, and I will never speak to you again.”
He closed his mouth and stared at her with contriteness. Eventually, he blew out a breath and ran one hand through his hair, scattering the neatly combed locks. “How do I fix this?”
“I don’t know. Ordinarily you should probably ask for my hand.”
His eyes widened with dismay. “You know I cannot marry you. My life is—”
“Complicated. So you have said, but you are also a man of honor and duty—the sort of man who does the right thing. Ordinarily.”
A look of terror entered his eyes. She would have pitied him if she hadn’t been so unbelievably angry and hurt. Swallowing, he seemed to prepare himself, then slowly leaned forward and reached for her hand. She allowed the gesture though she did not care for the pleasure it wrought. At the moment, she’d no desire to be overwhelmed by the profound effect he had on her. She didn’t want to revel in the gentle touch of his fingers or be infused with longing and want. She did not want to care, but she did so anyway. Desperately.
“Amelia.” He spoke hesitantly. “You ought to know that I have a son.”
