As if trying to keep herself from reaching for him, Amelia’s hands fisted atop her desk. “Get. Out,” she ground out.
Straightening, Dorian tried not to smile at her ire as he sketched a bow and turned to leave. His retreat, however, was blocked by the butler.
“Excuse the interruption, but supper is ready to be served, Lady Coylton,” the older man announced.
Dorian cocked a brow over his shoulder and held out his arm, beckoning to Amelia. He knew she would be none too happy about being forced to spend more time with him, and her irksome expression confirmed that.
Clara was already in the dining room when they walked in. Amelia released Dorian immediately and went to her seat.
Thus began one of the most painfully stilted meals of Dorian’s life.
Any conversation that was had was curt, and Amelia practically refused to acknowledge him. Dorian settled for watching the flustered Amelia struggle through the meal. For the most part, she was unable to meet his eyes. A pink flush of either embarrassment or rage had not left the crests of her cheeks. It was difficult to feel bad about it when she looked so bloody beautiful.
Finally, Clara could take the thick air of discomfort no more. “The two of you will be the death of me!” she exclaimed dramatically, dropping her dessert spoon with a clatter. Dorian frowned at his sister, but she continued, saying, “Dori, stop torturing Amelia for standing her ground.” She looked at Amelia. “Amelia, you moved on and have had a wonderful life, but it is clear that none of this is in the past. You do not trust Dori, yet you cannot really be blamed when you do not know the full story.” Warnings began to scream in Dorian’s head. IfClara was about to do what he suspected… “Dorian’s pride was mortally wounded, and he won’t tell you, but I—”
Dorian slammed his fist upon the table, cutting off Clara and making the porcelain and glassware jump dangerously. “Enough, Clara!” he bellowed.
Immediately, Amelia sent the footmen a glance to give them some privacy, and they left silently.
Clara’s mouth snapped shut; she glared across the table at Dorian’s tense frame.
“You know not of what you speak. It would serve you to mind your tongue.”
Clara’s fists clenched.
Faye’s head appeared at Amelia’s side, her ever-present four-legged guardian. The well-trained animal seemed more interested in the argument than the food on their plates.
Clara stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I am not a child, and I shan’t be treated as one.” She turned to Amelia. “Make him tell you the truth. You are the only one strong enough to force him.” Then, she turned on her heel and spun out the doorway.
Amelia turned a confused look on Dorian, but he refused to look away from his sister’s vacated chair. Had he not been certain she knew nothing of his intentions in making this trip, he might have been concerned that Clara was trying to foil them. No. She had threatened to reveal the deepest secret he had: What really happened the night he’d been discovered in a very compromising embrace with a woman who was not his betrothed, and how the scandal of the fallout had broken him. A secret she only knew because she’d been a curious, incorrigible child who had eavesdropped upon his distraught conversation with Brinley all those years ago. He’d caught her and swore her to secrecy, threatening her life as only an older brother can do, and she’d believed him as only a little girl who adored her elderbrother would. Now, however, Clara was grown, and she was rapidly learning that the world was not so black and white. Her loyalties were clearly torn, and Dorian had to deal with it if he had any hope of keeping his secret.
“What is she talking about?” Amelia asked in a wary tone, sounding as if she were repeating herself while he’d been lost in thought.
“Nothing,” he growled and stood, bracing his palms flat on the table. Normally, he would have enjoyed the dessert of decadent tarts laid in front of him, but his appetite had been slaughtered. He stormed from the room.
Amelia soon followed suit, tossing her napkin on the table and doggedly following him, Faye by her side. “It cannot have been nothing. Regardless of what you may think, Clara isn’t prone to histrionics. She wouldn’t have behaved like that, wouldn’t have implied…she wouldn’t have said such things if there was no reason to. Something has upset her, and it clearly has to do with what happened to us.”
Dorian stopped walking so quickly that Amelia nearly collided with his rigid back. As it was, Faye barely sidestepped in time.
He caught the dog eyeing him suspiciously, and Dorian barely resisted the urge to growl at the beast. He resumed walking, but Amelia continued hounding him, so he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearby room, shutting the door before Faye could follow. The dog gave an affronted grunt from the other side of the door.
Amelia spluttered and wrenched herself free from his grasp. He’d tugged them into the two-story library. A low fire burned in the hearth, though it did little to heat or light the room. It created an intimate cocoon of shadows broken infrequently by a flickering warm amber glow.
Dorian whirled on her. Though she stopped berating him, she didn’t lose her glare or her defiant stance. She wasn’t one to be cowed. Not even when she’d been dragged into a deserted room by a man with whom she had bad blood.
“Why must you concern yourself with my business, woman?” he growled, running a hand through his hair. “I do not remember you being this impertinent.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t remember you being this insufferable, so I suppose we have both changed, haven’t we?”
They stared one another down for several tense seconds before he spun away from her with a violent curse.
Faye began to scratch at the door, uncomfortable with her mistress being out of sight—especially with the sound of a raised male voice.
Dorian turned back to Amelia. “Leave it alone,” he demanded.
“No,” she refused. “This clearly involves me, so it is very much my business.” Temper flaring, she demanded he reveal to her whatever it was Clara had indicated. “It must be a powerful secret if you’ve kept it so close for this long.” She threw out her arms in frustration. Faye scratched at the door harder as their voices grew in volume. “Come out with it! You cannot hurt me any more than you already have.” He’d shattered her virgin heart she’d foolishly handed over to him once, but she would never make that mistake again.
“You don’t think I was hurt in all this?” he demanded and then scoffed.
