His mouth tilted with the hint of a mischievous smile. “Perhaps.”
“So you have ignored my advice and gone back to St. Giles?”
“Of course not.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Hmm... perhaps I should practice more?”
“No. Don’t you dare. I appreciate your honesty.” She started toward the terrace, and he fell into step beside her. On the opposite side of the lawn his mother appeared to be giving a shrub a great deal of attention. “Now it is my turn.” This wasn’t going to be easy, but she felt she owed him an explanation for her churlish behavior. “The fact of the matter is that Iwantedyou to kiss me, Coventry, and when you did, it was the most wonderful thing I’d ever experienced in my life. But then you had to go and ruin it with apologies. You took something special and turned it into this terrible, regrettable mistake.”
“I acted on instinct,” he explained, “and I am sorry for it. Not for the kiss, but for the carelessness with which I treated you after the kiss. You deserve better from me, Amelia.” Reaching the terrace, he turned to face her. His hand found hers, his thumb gently stroking her palm while he leaned a bit closer. A shiver tickled her insides. Her breath caught in her throat. “Perhaps I ought to tell you how much you affect me?”
Was it possible for a pair of stays to tighten on their own accord? Amelia didn’t know. In fact, she could barely think as his thumb stroked a path to her wrist. It settled there, pressing against her pulse. “I, er... ah... I affect you?” She spoke with a squeak, her nerves completely frayed by the prospect of him provoking her so intensely while his mother remained but a short distance away.
“More than you can possibly imagine.” There was a decadent depth to his voice that made her skin tremble. His thumbnail scraped against her palm, stirring a slow delicious ache somewhere deep down inside. “Keeping my distance from you—not acting rashly—has taken tremendous restraint. But...” He drew his hand away and stepped back. “Restraint is what is required if we are to avoid a scandal and preserve your reputation.”
Dazed by his need for control in her presence, Amelia barely managed a nod. “Of course.”
“Not to mention that your brother will not be pleased to find you compromised by the man who swore to protect you. I cannot let him down. To do so would make me no better than...” He clamped his mouth shut with a brusqueness that hinted at anger. “We must keep a respectable distance. This cannot happen again.”
She tried not to let the finality of his words vex her. Instead, she focused on his unspoken words. “No better than whom?”
His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened. Gone was the man who’d seductively told her of his desire seconds earlier. “It does not matter.”
“I disagree.”
“Amelia.” His voice held a note of warning. “It is a private matter, and I will ask you to respect that.”
Taken aback by his violent tone, she retreated a step just as Coventry’s butler came out on the terrace. “Lady Amelia,” he said, walking toward her with a salver. “This has arrived for you. It seems it was forwarded from your house.”
Concerned about the urgency, Amelia thanked him and snatched up the letter. She quickly tore it open. “It is from the chief laborer at the house. There has been an accident.” Her hand began to tremble so she offered the letter to Thomas. “Part of the roof collapsed on one of the workers. It does not mention his condition.”
“Then let us go and assess the situation for ourselves. The sooner we do so, the sooner our minds can be put at ease.”
Agreeing with him, she went to say goodbye to his mother, all the while wondering if she ought to abandon her project and sell the building before anything else could go wrong with it.
Chapter 17
The sight that awaited them was horrific. Beams of wood, roofing tiles and other debris covered a man whose voice pleaded weakly for help.
“Stay back,” Coventry warned Amelia as he shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. They were in one of the second-floor bedrooms with three other men who were all trying to lift away the larger pieces of wood. Coventry quickly went to offer his assistance while Amelia watched from the doorway.
Looking up, she glimpsed the sky through the gaping hole in the ceiling. The man who’d gotten hurt must have been on the roof and fallen straight through. They would have to investigate further—especially to make sure this did not happen again.
“I think we may need a doctor,” Coventry said. Crouching to move away pieces of plaster, he glanced toward Amelia. “Perhaps you can ask my coachman to fetch one. Florian will do, if he is available.”
Eager to help, Amelia hurried back downstairs to deliver the message. She then asked the laborers still working in the foyer if they had any water for her to give their injured friend. One of them went to fetch a jug and a cup.
Returning upstairs with it, Amelia arrived just in time to see the injured man being pulled from underneath a large beam. He was coughing and wheezing, his lungs no doubt filled with the thick white dust that covered the floor. She poured some water into the cup and handed it to him. He accepted it with eager hands, setting it to his mouth and gulping it down.
“I think his arm may be broken,” Coventry said. “And there is a large bump on the back of his head. He is in a great deal of pain.”
“What is your name?” Amelia asked the man as she crouched beside him.
“Rob,” he said with a grimace.
“I’m sorry you got hurt, Rob.” She refilled his cup and he drank some more water. “Can you tell us what happened?”
