Amelia groaned. “Must we discuss this now?”
“No, but I would like you to hear my opinion on the matter since it likely differs from most.” She set the glass aside and perched herself on the edge of the bed. “I was prevented from marrying the man I loved, and so I married for duty instead. It wasn’t the worst union in the world, but it wasn’t a very happy one either.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled it. “Nobody can force you to marry Coventry, and if you are truly opposed, then I believe your brother to be the sort of man who will help you set up a life for yourself somewhere else, away from Society’s censure. Just look at what he did for Gabriella’s sister after all. But... I think that would be a mistake on your part. I know how deeply you care for Coventry, and instinct tells me that he cares just as much for you.”
“No. He would have said so if he did.”
Lady Everly chuckled. “Men can be such fools when it comes to confessing their feelings. Just mention ‘love’ to them and they begin to perspire. But his reaction when he brought you here earlier—his desperate stride and anguished tone—spoke volumes about the inner workings of his heart.”
Closing her eyes, Amelia tamped down the giddy sensation of joy that threatened to spiral up through her. She would not allow herself to be influenced by a few words and to let hope in, only to be disappointed.
“Even if what you say is true, he and I are an impossibility. Coventry needs to marry a woman who can make him proud. He needs a wife who can fit the duchess role to perfection.”
A tentative smile emerged on Lady Everly’s lips. “My dear, it is time for you to realize that you can be that woman, but to do that, you must stop wearing your past like a millstone around your neck. Remember, the way people perceive you has a lot to do with your state of mind. If you think yourself unworthy, everyone else will too.”
A knock on the door made them aware of Pierson’s presence. “The duke is here,” he said. “Shall I send him up?”
Lady Everly glanced at Amelia who hesitantly nodded. “Please do,” the dowager countess told him. She waited until he was gone before saying, “I think you and Coventry have much to discuss, so I will give you the privacy you need.”
She began to move away, but Amelia caught her by the hand, staying her progress. “You cannot mean to leave us alone in my bedchamber.” A sudden blast of nervousness made her want to keep Lady Everly as close as possible. “It would not be proper.”
“I do not think there is too much harm in it. After all, you are affianced, the door will remain wide open and you, my dear, are hardly in any position to do much of anything besides talk.” She gave her hand a gentle tug, and Amelia reluctantly released it. “I will be in the sitting room if you need me,” she added, referring to the small intimate space at the top of the landing. It wasn’t far, but it still didn’t feel close enough under the circumstances. Not when she had to contend with a very determined duke.
Another knock at the door brought said duke into the room. He greeted Lady Everly as she slid past him, making her exit and leaving Amelia quite alone with Thomas, whose dark gaze did little to put her at ease. It seemed to bore straight into her, devouring her until she felt weak with longing. Oh, if she could only develop some defense against the effect he always had on her. But every time she was sure she had built a wall around her heart, he would break it down with his mere presence, and she would respond like a moth drawn to a flame.
“I am glad to see you awake,” he said, striding toward the bed where she lay. “How are you feeling?”
“As though I’ve been stabbed.” When he paused and winced, she said, “It hurts, but it is not fatal. Let us take that as a blessing.”
Pressing his lips together in a tight line, he reached her side and extended his hand. Amelia drew a sharp breath and held it in anticipation of his touch. It came a second later—the careful stroke of fingertips upon her cheek.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “This is my fault. It should not have happened. I—”
“Shh...” His distress made her forget her own. “You are not to blame for any of this.”
He withdrew his hand, leaving coolness in its place. “I should have anticipated the attack, Amelia. I should have prevented it.”
“How? None of us expected this to happen.”
“There were warnings—the fire and the accident, Mr. Gorrell’s disappearance. I should have stopped you from going back there after those things happened but—”
“You would have failed, Thomas.” The use of his given name seemed to snap him out of the self-inflicted turmoil he was in. “I am not the sort of woman who is easily controlled by anyone.”
With a heavy sigh, he suddenly lowered himself to the edge of the bed as though pushed there by an intolerably heavy burden. She felt the mattress dip beneath his weight. “No, you are not.” He angled himself sideways in order to better face her. “But I still feel as though I failed you, just as I failed—”
“Stop.” The word cut through his, forcing him into silence. “You have to understand and accept that people have their own willpowers. You are not their keeper, nor do you determine cause and effect. What happened with your sister was tragic, but she believed herself to be in love and as such, I doubt you would have been able to stop her from meeting Fielding’s brother in secret. Especially since you were unaware of her planning to do so until it was too late.” When he looked unconvinced, she placed her hand over his. “As for me, there was little you could do to keep me from that building short of having me locked in my bedchamber, and even then I am sure I would have found a way to defy your wishes.”
He muttered something—a curse, no doubt—then locked his eyes with hers. “Why do women have to be so infernally stubborn?”
She shrugged as best as she could, given her position, then regretted making the movement since it pulled at her wound and sent pain darting through her. Twisting her face in response, she groaned. “Perhaps because we have become weary of being directed by men.”
Turning his hand, he grasped hold of hers. “You must not overtax yourself, Amelia. The wound you sustained is still serious.”
An aching smile caught her lips. “I am aware of it.”
“Of course you are. I did not mean to imply otherwise. It is just that I... I cannot help but worry. It is in my nature to do so.”
She hadn’t really thought of it like that before. It was something with which she could easily relate, having spent her life worrying about Juliette and Raphe—Bethany too, when she’d been alive. It had been the burden of having nobody but each other. Still... “And it will eat you up unless you relinquish control.”
He snorted. “I fear that is easier said than done.”
