“Not when you never had control to begin with.” She squeezed his hand. “The sooner you accept that, the easier life will be for you.”
Frowning, he turned his attention toward their laced fingers. His thumb brushed over her skin, prompting all of her senses to fully awaken. “It is difficult to do so. Especially when there are things that I wish I could put into boxes and hold on tight to.” His gaze met hers once more with an endless amount of emotion. “Marry me, Amelia.”
She felt herself draw back. “No.” Lady Everly had clearly been wrong.
“When will you see reason?”
His face transformed into a portrait of undeniable torment. It was as if deep feelings existed within him, and yet when he spoke... “You mean your version of reason? The sort of reason that involves retraining me, keeping me close and forcing me into a sheltered existence? I will have none of that, Thomas. Not from any man.”
“Then what will you have? Tell me and I will provide it.”
Closing her eyes, she forced back the tears that threatened. “It does not matter as long as you are unprepared to give it.” She was suddenly quite tired—exhausted, really. “You should go. I need to rest.”
A pause followed. “We are not done with this subject, Amelia. You and Iwillmarry. Of that you may be certain.”
She had no energy to respond, though the opening and closing of the front door below did catch her attention. Muffled voices rose toward them, then the sound of footsteps heavy upon the stairs. They paused at the top of the landing. Lady Everly was saying something now. Her voice was followed by a far more familiar one. Raphe’s. Amelia’s eyes flew toward the door just in time to see her brother enter the room. His solid pace ate up the carpet as he crossed it with a stern expression, not halting until he stood before Thomas, who’d risen to greet him.
“Coventry.” Raphe’s tone had never sounded so menacing before.
It filled Amelia with sudden concern. “Raphe,” she tried, but he ignored her. Both men did, to her utter frustration.
“You were supposed to protect her,” Raphe said in a clipped tone. “Instead, I return home to find her stabbed and compromised. Is that correct or have I been misinformed?”
“You are correct,” Thomas told him in an equally blunt tone.
“Then you will have no qualms with what I must do.”
“None at all. Indeed, I would expect nothing less.”
Amelia stared at one, then at the other. What on earth were they talking about? She knew the answer to that question two seconds later when Raphe’s fist made direct contact with Thomas’s face.
Chapter 23
Thomas felt the burning ache vibrate through him. The punch had been well deserved—expected—and yet it still hurt like blazes. Far worse than any other hit he had ever received, no doubt because this one had been delivered with passion. It was personal, carrying the weight of Huntley’s disappointment in him.
“Raphe!” In spite of her weakened voice, Amelia still managed to sound horrified. “There is no need for such brutality.”
“Let me be clear, Amelia. The only reason I am not punching you right now is because you’re a woman and also injured.” He crossed his arms and glared down at where she lay. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I can explain,” she said on what sounded like a weary sigh.
“I should bloody well hope so,” Huntley thundered.
Disliking the tone he was using on her, Thomas placed himself between Huntley and Amelia. “She has endured enough for one day. The last thing she needs is for you to come home and berate her.”
Huntley narrowed his gaze, and for one terrifying moment it looked as though he might unleash a flood of fury, but then he swung away without warning and paced across the floor. “You and I have much to discuss, Coventry. I’ll await you in my study.”
Thomas waited until he could hear his footsteps upon the stairs before turning to face Amelia once more. “I am sorry he had to arrive and find you like this.”
“Yet another man who feels responsible for all that is wrong with the world.” She expelled a tortured breath. “Remember that, when the two of you speak. You are so very alike.”
He considered her words for a second, then bowed over her and brushed her lips with his. It was quick and gentle, yet it still managed to stir an unquenchable thirst in him—a thirst for things he now wanted with every fiber of his being. If she would only surrender to his desire and agree to accept his offer. To his way of thinking, there could be no other solution, and he was willing to bet his fortune that Huntley would agree with him once he told him all that there was to tell.
“Have a seat,” Huntley said as soon as Thomas appeared in the study. He’d met Gabriella in the hallway on his way there and had given her a quick account of Amelia’s situation. The duchess had immediately hurried off to see her.
Thomas sat in the chair that he always used in this room. It was comfortable—a little less rigid than the other available seat, no doubt on account of overusage. He considered Huntley, who now appeared slightly more subdued than earlier. The walk down the stairs and the few minutes that had passed had apparently eased his temper.
“Allow me to start at the very beginning,” Thomas said. He then proceeded to related the events that had taken place since Huntley’s departure: Amelia’s pursuit of the property, her prompt purchase of it and all the trouble that had followed.
