Her probing question made him grimace. “Yes.” He drew in a breath and stared into his glass.
When he said nothing further, she asked, “Was the progress on the house not to your satisfaction?”
“It is not the damn house, Mama.” Wincing, he immediately apologized for the expletive, then pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to ward off an encroaching headache.
“Oh. I see.” She crossed the floor and lowered herself to the sofa while he watched her every movement.
Finally, when she said nothing further, he asked, “What do you mean by that?”
Tilting her head, she eyed him with no small amount of pity. “Only that Lady Amelia must be the cause of your annoyance. Yet again.”
“We had a disagreement,” he confessed. His mother just watched him, waiting for him to continue, so he did. “She believes I insulted her, which I may have done although doing so was not my intention.” On the contrary, his intention had leaned in a far more lascivious direction. “Naturally, I apologized, which she did not take kindly to at all. If anything, it only made matters worse, and now she refuses to speak with me at all.” He approached the sofa and dropped down into the chair closest to it. “Frankly, I am somewhat confounded by the whole thing—by her reaction and my response to it. I feel... uncharacteristically contentious.”
“Hmm...” Studying him for a long moment, she said, “The fact that you would insult her to begin with is very unlike you. I don’t suppose you would care to elaborate on your poor misjudgment?”
“Not especially.”
“I did not think so.” She met his gaze for a long moment during which he remained completely still. He feared she might uncover the truth in the depths of his eyes. “What I would advise,” she eventually continued, “is for you to take a good long think about what Lady Amelia means to you.”
He instinctively flinched. “She is a friend or, more precisely, the sister of a friend.”
“Is that all?”
“Of course it is.” She could be nothing more. It wouldn’t work if she were, which was why he wouldn’t allow it.
“Then there is really no hope for you, is there?”
He sat back, a little unnerved by that comment. “What do you mean?”
“As far as I am aware, it is uncommon to get all unhinged on account of a person that one does not care strongly for. Unless of course one is mad, which you must surely be since you deny any deep attachment to Lady Amelia. So, there is no hope for you. You clearly belong in Bedlam.”
He stared back at the petite woman who’d raised him—the woman who always spoke demurely—and he wondered how exactly he’d managed to make her go off on such a confounding tangent.
“Mama,” he said as he emptied the last of his brandy, “your logic is distressing.”
“That you would think so only proves my point even more.”
“And what exactly is your point, besides me being mad and belonging in an institution for the mentally insane?”
She smiled then—the sort of smile that a mother might give a child who was trying to learn how to walk. “You are obviously developing a tendre for her.”
He felt his entire body go numb. “I amnot!”
“Very well then.” She stood and walked to the door. Pausing there, she looked back at him with warmth and more understanding than he possessed at that moment. “You will recognize the truth soon enough, Coventry, and when you do, I suggest you embrace it.”
He waited until she was gone, then muttered a series of curses.
She was wrong, damn it. He wasnotlosing his head over Amelia. Hewouldnot lose his head over her. Except, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he had to recognize that he already had. His mother was right. Why else would he get so wound up over their falling-out?
The answer was simple. He missed how easy their relationship had been before he’d ruined it with a kiss. There was nothing easy about it now. She’d gotten beneath his skin and taken up residence in his heart. The hurt in her eyes when he’d disengaged from her had been palpable. It had twisted his gut and prompted him to voice his regret even though he regretted no part of what had transpired between them. On the contrary, he’d savored every exquisite moment. But she could not know that—not without promises being made.
With a heavy sigh, he stood and went to get changed. A good fight at the Black Swan was awfully tempting at the moment. Perhaps he could have his feelings for her punched out of him. At least then he would no longer suffer the wretched pain of caring about how thoroughly he’d managed to wound her.
Chapter 16
“This just came for you, my lady.” Pierson held the salver toward Amelia so she could retrieve the letter.
Opening it, she read. “It’s from the dowager duchess,” she said, looking at Lady Everly, who’d been in the middle of instructing Amelia and Juliette in how to hold a fan correctly before the butler had entered. “She is inviting me to join her this afternoon for tea.”
