“I know. It’s so unbearably tragic.” There was what sounded like the ruffling of skirts. “Perhaps we should set our sights on someone else then. What do you think of Viscount Tibs?” The women, two young ladies to whom Amelia had been briefly introduced earlier, stepped forward and began heading toward the house while continuing their discussion. Neither looked in Amelia’s direction. They remained oblivious to her presence.
She stood as if frozen, her fingers tightly curled around the glass she still held. Coventry had loved and lost. His sisterandhis mistress. To think of the choice he’d made to raise his son alone—the awesome responsibility such a task embodied—was incredible. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might have been emotionally attached to Jeremy’s mother or that her death could have broken his heart. It should have done, but it hadn’t, and the thought of it now made her lips tremble with pain. She suddenly felt her eyes prick. Her chest tightened around her heart.
“Amelia?”
She blinked, startled to see that Coventry now stood before her. How could she not have noticed his approach? Attempting a smile, she tried to push her maudlin ponderings aside and don the mask of the efficient no-nonsense person she’d taught herself to be.
“I was just about to join my sister. Would you like to come with me?” Her voice sounded far too chirpy.
Coventry frowned. He was looking at her with an expression so serious it felt excruciatingly uncomfortable. “Are you all right?” His frown deepened, and she instinctively averted her gaze. “You look as though you may be about to start crying.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a forced bit of laughter.
“Did someone say something disagreeable to you?” He clearly wasn’t believing her. “I saw Lowell keeping you company earlier.” Severity clung to his words. “If he—”
“You needn’t worry. He did not make another proposal or say anything untoward. On the contrary, he was perfectly courteous.” She felt a sudden need to pick up her skirts and run. Instead, she squared her shoulders and focused on taking deep breaths. What on earth was happening to her? She sensed she was losing control.
“Then what is it?”
She met his gaze. “I don’t know,” she told him plainly, “I feel quite unwell all of a sudden and... I think I would like to retire to my room.”
He stared at her for a long drawn out moment as if considering whether or not to press her further. Eventually he gave a curt nod and said, “Very well. Allow me to escort you inside.”
“But what about all the guests? This is my event. I am the hostess. I cannot simply leave.”
“Of course you can,” he assured her, already leading her toward the terrace. “Lady Everly and I can easily step in so you can go rest.”
Entering Huntley House, he guided her into the hallway and toward the stairs.
“I don’t know what came over me.” Something had to be said. Anything to fill the unbearable silence that had settled between them as they walked.
“Are you sure it wasn’t something Lowell said?”
She gave a decisive nod. “Yes.”
“Then what was it?”
They’d come to a halt at the foot of the grand staircase, and she became aware of the expectant look in his eyes as he studied her face. How could she possibly tell him her heart was breaking because of what she now knew? How could she ever explain the pain that came from knowing he was bound to a ghost—a woman against whom she stood no chance of winning?
Unable to find the right words and unwilling to try, she shook her head. “A lot has happened recently. I fear it has exhausted me.”
He drew in a breath and slowly nodded. “Very well then.”
She thanked him for his attentiveness before climbing the stairs on wooden feet while wondering why it felt as though she had lost him when he had never been hers to begin with.
Surrounded by darkness, Amelia stood by her bedroom window that evening, gazing up at the wide expanse of night sky dotted by sparkling flecks of silver. She had left her home in St. Giles almost three months ago. So much had happened since then. Her brother had fallen in love with an earl’s daughter and married her. Amelia and Juliette had been introduced to the queen—an incident that had almost ended in disaster when she’d walked too close to a vase. Thankfully, Gabriella had caught the precious item and stopped it from falling, but not without Amelia being reminded of how little she belonged in this world of wealth and power where even the smallest misstep could lead to disaster.
It had gotten better over time. Her lessons had helped her improve upon her speech and her comportment. These past three weeks while Raphe had been away, she’d taken on the task of building a school, had changed her life in a more meaningful way. She finally felt as though she had a purpose—as though her existence could be about more than just looking pretty, saying the right things and making a good match. It had rebuilt the confidence she’d lost upon overhearing the cruel remarks being made about her and her siblings several weeks earlier. What those young ladies had said did not matter. What mattered was her ability to make a lasting difference in the world and how well her efforts to do so had been received by others.
She would be lying if she denied how well it pleased her to know that Coventry had been impressed by her efforts. The chance she’d been given to spend more time in his company had given her something else as well—an awareness of the sort of attraction that could exist between a man and a woman. He’d made her feel beautiful and desirable. He’d taught her that standing up for what she believed in would earn the sort of respect that would not be easily forgotten. So although he might never be able to love her as she loved him, she would always cherish the kiss they had shared and the words he had spoken when he’d told her how much she tempted him.
A movement outside drew her attention. She looked down, squinting through the darkness. For long seconds after, she saw nothing and was about to turn away and return to her bed when a figure stepped out from the shadows on the opposite side of the street. It was a man, his silhouette suggesting a sturdy build. Pausing, he looked toward Huntley House, then raised his hand to his hat and tipped it in her direction before walking away.
A chill went through Amelia. He couldn’t have seen her, could he? She was shrouded in darkness and mostly hidden behind the thick curtains. And yet, she felt as though he’d been looking straight at her. Worse than that, that he’d wanted to make her aware of his perusal.
Drawing back, she wondered if he might be one of Bartholomew’s men. If so, his presence could only be perceived as a threat. Which meant that actions would have to be taken. For starters, she would have to let Coventry know as soon as possible, a decision that led her straight back to Coventry House the following day, with her maid accompanying her on the fifteen-minute walk she’d decided to take in order to get some exercise. She’d spent far too much time sitting down recently, either on chairs or on sofas or in carriages.
But as they made their way toward Wimpole Street, the hair at the back of her neck began to rise. She looked over her shoulder just in time to catch a flash of movement. Her breath caught and she quickened her pace.
