“My, you’ve recovered well. I was growing worried I’d brought back a half-drowned rat instead of her ladyship.”
“How kind…” she replied drolly and made to descend the stairs alone.
Seemingly immune to her ire, Kempton took her elbow and guided her down; her manners prevented her from wrenching her elbow from his firm, but gentle grip.
“How have you spent the rest of your day?” he asked solicitously.
“I occupied my time with Clara and Archie.” As she spoke, only then did she realize she’d never returned to the study to pen that letter she’d forgotten from the morning. It was only a note from the housekeeper in Edinburgh advising her that they’d soon be required to hire on three new maids following a trio of proposals of marriage by her employees’ sweethearts. It wasn’t a letter of vast importance, but Amelia had always prided herself on the timeliness of her responses. She wished to send her reply with enough time to ensure the maids were given congratulatory gifts before leaving their positions. It was still early enough; she had time to finish it before supper was served. “I’ve just remembered there is something I must attend to before I am distracted once more.”
“Iamrather distracting, aren’t I?” His tone was dripping with confidence.
Amelia rolled her eyes, and said flatly, “If you’ll excuse me…”
“I do not mind accompanying you.”
Her heart sank at Kempton’s words. When he took her arm and guided her to her study, she recognized there was no arguing. She could protest until she was blue in the face, but he’d made up his mind, and there would be no dissuading him.
“Very well,” she grumbled.
As soon as they entered the room, she slipped free from Kempton’s grasp. His scent was too intoxicating, and she needed to put some space between them. Not to mention, she was half afraid he would assume her chair before she could, so she rushed across the room to claim it first.
Dorian chuckled atAmelia’s none-too-subtle rush to her chair but did not comment. Not for the first time, he appreciated how at home she seemed, in charge at the monstrous desk.
It took some shuffling, but she located what she was looking for. As she read a piece of parchment, she slowly, absently removed her long satin gloves one finger at a time. He watched the fabric slide down the soft skin of her arms, and his mouth went dry. There was an unconscious grace to her movements as she took out her writing implements and made to pen a response. It amazed him just how much she’d grown and taken on since the dissolution of their betrothal.
He liked to believe he would have afforded her as much room to blossom and test her skills had they gone through with their marriage, but that was something to which neither of them would ever be able to attest.
“You certainly are busy, aren’t you?” he commented.
She signed her letter with a flourish before replying. “I do what I must to ensure my son comes into an estate worth running.”
This surprised Dorian. He hadn’t realized just how much she’d taken on. He’d seen some of the papers on her desk but had assumed the tidy numbers had belonged to the hand of a capable steward. It seemed he’d underestimated Amelia. This woman left nothing to chance, and it was more than admirable. It was remarkable.
Shewas remarkable.
She prepared the blue-black wax for a seal and produced a small box from one of the drawers. It was velvet-lined, and he soon learned that it held her late husband’s signet ring. Boldly, she pressed the golden seal into the prepared wax before replacing the ring in its box for safekeeping.
Dorian propped a nonchalant hip against the edge of the desk as he watched her tidy, efficient movements. He was inexplicably entranced as she reached for a small stack of unopened letters on an ornate silver salver. That stack had not been there that morning, and it was impressive how so muchcorrespondence still seemed to reach her in this quiet corner of Scotland. It would seem her work was never done.
Without looking at him, she commented, “It is impolite to hover.” She picked up the penknife and deftly split a seal with slightly more force than was necessary.
“Archie is lucky to have you to advocate for him,” he said honestly. Amelia did not look up, but he could tell in her stillness that she was listening to him rather than reading the narrow, slanted script before her. “Do you never take time for yourself?”
Her brow wrinkled, but she still did not look up. “Of course I do; I have Faye and my riding and…other hobbies.”
He allowed her to skim the letter and pick up her pen before he spoke. “Surely, you haveotherneeds to attend to as well. Have you remained without companionship in this castle all this time? As a widow, that must be particularly lonely.”
The pen slipped from her fingers, splattering midnight ink across the fresh, creamy vellum she’d set before her. She whirled on him, her eyes flaring. Color crested her cheeks much as it had earlier when they’d shared Maximus’s back. It gave him a thrill to see her so piqued; he enjoyed the flushing of her creamy skin more than he probably should have.
“If you are trying to mortify me, then your efforts are lacking. However, if it is your intent to attack my last frayed nerve, then you, sir, are succeeding. I will tolerate your presence at supper, but not here in my private study. Please leave.”
It was probably unwise, but he could not resist teasing her further. “You seem rather on edge, Amelia. You may not wish to hear it, but there are ways to alleviate that.”
“What about any of what I’ve said to you indicates I would be open to such a thing?”
“You did not have to say a word.” Dorian leaned over the desk and lowered his voice to a sultry rumble. “Your reaction to my touch when we rode together said it all.”
And so did the catch in her breathing.
