by Multi-Author
“You are only wearing your pelisse,” he pointed out, letting his gaze flit over her with great appreciation. He could see her legs through the parting of her coat. Legs he wanted wrapped around him.
Her cheeks turned dark pink as she glanced down. “Oh, that’s right. Damn.”
He held back a laugh at her unguarded response. “Perhaps it would be better if I were to go. I’ll call for your maid to assist you in dressing and afterward she can show you to the other chamber if you’d like to rest. Will that suffice?”
She swallowed hard before she nodded. “Yes. Thank you, my lord.”
She moved into the room and now it was he who walked to the door. But just as he had done to her, her voice stopped him before he could depart.
“Stephen?”
He smiled and looked at her. “Yes?”
She hesitated, and her voice broke when she asked, “How did you know daffodils were my favorite?”
He flinched at the question, both for its implication that he didn’t care enough to know basic facts about her and for the reality that he hadn’t cared until recently. His answer would reveal that.
“I’ve been corresponding with your sister,” he admitted, examining Amelia’s face to see her reaction.
Her lips parted in surprise and her eyes widened. “I-I didn’t know.”
He shrugged. “I asked Georgina to keep the correspondence private until the holidays, when I could confess it to you in person.”
“I see.” Amelia turned away. “Well, thank you for your honesty. Will you send Helen in?”
He wanted to say so much more, but he could see from her tight posture this was not the time. So he simply said, “Of course,” and backed from the room to leave her alone.
* * * * *
AMELIA STARED AT the flowers on the mantel as Helen bustled around her, sliding buttons into place. She took a step forward and the maid let out a barely audible sigh.
“My lady, you must stay still if you wish to be dressed.”
Amelia ignored the statement and raised a hand to touch the delicate yellow petal of one of the flowers.
“Should I be annoyed at him, Helen, or flattered that he would go to such lengths?” she asked.
Helen moved forward and returned to her buttoning.
“I suppose it depends upon whether or not you wish to be wooed by him.”
“I might have an answer to that question if I understood his motives,” Amelia whispered, more to herself than to Helen. “After all, he has full access to the dowry that meant so damn much to him months ago. I can provide no more for his coffers. He cannot want heirs since he did not take his pleasure. What else could he want?”
Helen slid the last button into place and smoothed Amelia’s dress here and there. “Come, sit down and I shall fix your hair.”
Amelia nodded, trying desperately not to look at the bed as her maid led her to one of the chairs beside the fire. On that bed Stephen had…well, he had made her want things all over again. Things she couldn’t have.
“Has it ever occurred to you that he might simply want you?” Helen asked softly as she began to pick pins from Amelia’s tangled hair. “Just as he claims?”
Amelia shut her eyes. That was the one thing she didn’t want to consider. It opened her up to heartache, to pain, to everything she had endured just six months before. It was only in the past month or two that she had truly begun recovering from the heartache caused by his rejection.
“You know I have lived with Georgina and her husband since that horrible day after my wedding, and not once has my sister mentioned anything about corresponding with Stephen in an apparently friendly enough way. In fact, in the weeks following our estrangement, she was the first to speak ill of him.” Amelia folded her arms. “To hear that they are now in league is shocking and rather annoying. I intend to tell her so as soon as she arrives next week.”
She hesitated. A week alone with Stephen, intent on wooing her, seducing her…
What would be left of her by the time the others arrived?
She sighed. “Again, I ask myself why he is doing this.”
“And again I ask, don’t you want him to?” Her friend came around to sit in the chair opposite. “My lady, you and I were raised in the same household. Your family was kind enough to treat the children of their servants with regard. I even consider us friends of a sort.”
“As do I,” Amelia was quick to reassure her. “And I dearly need a friend’s counsel, so for the moment I beg you to please cast off any formality of our roles and tell me your true feelings on this matter. Mine are compromised, I fear. I cannot trust them.”
Helen grasped Amelia’s trembling hands. “You loved this man, I know you did. And you wished for and planned for a life with him when you wed. When you discovered he had married you only for…well, for the money, it broke your heart and we all hated him for that. But he is going out of his way to pursue you now with no obvious ulterior motive. And if you could be happy, as you once hoped to be, won’t you regret it if you don’t allow him to woo you now?”
The words sunk into Amelia’s very soul, stoking the embers of a fire of hope that she had long ago allowed to burn out.
“But how could I ever trust him?” she whispered. “Knowing what his intentions were when he first convinced me we could be happy together?”
Helen considered that a moment, then shrugged. “Listen to what he says, truly listen. And better yet, see what he does. I think you’ll know. And then you can decide what to do.”
Amelia nodded. “You’re right, of course. And even if you weren’t, I have little choice, since we are trapped in this house together for a week.”
But even as she used the word trapped, it wasn’t how she felt. Thrilled was better. Intrigued. Because she had another chance at something she had once desired more than anything. If only she could decide whether or not to take it.
Chapter 4
AMELIA LOOKED UP from her book as Helen swept into the chamber.
“Good morning!” her maid chirped.
Amelia set the book aside and rose from the bed with a shake of her head.
“What is that draped over your arm?”
Helen looked down at the swath of very expensive, very beautiful burgundy silk, hand-stitched with black velvet roses across the skirt and bodice. She held the fabric up.
“It is a gown,” she declared with an arched brow. “And judging by the look of it, one fitted perfectly to your proportions. The earl must have been given your measurements by your sister.”
Amelia stared. She couldn’t turn away from the gorgeous gown before her.
“It has been three days,” she mused, even as she reached out to touch the soft fabric. “And every day brings some new gift.”
Helen nodded. “Each more beautiful than the last.”
Amelia couldn’t deny that fact, even if she wished to. The first day was the daffodils, which were constantly refreshed as if by magic in any room she set foot in. The next was a collection of three books she had been dying to read but had been denied the chance because she had been sequestered away from the bookshop, hiding at her sister’s country estate. And now this…this beautiful dress.
“I’ve been told he wishes to see you in it,” Helen said.
Amelia jerked her gaze away from the gown. “He does?”
Helen nodded, and the way her eyes slipped to the side a fraction made Amelia blush. So her maid knew that not only did Stephen gift her something beautiful each day, but each night he came to her. He used his mouth, his fingers, his body to her great pleasure.
But he had not taken his own relief, at least not yet. Amelia found herself increasingly frustrated by that fact, by his utter control when she seemed to have none. The moment he touched her, all protests died on her lips and she was a wanton in his bed.
It was all very confusing.
“He wishes to see me now?” she asked, shaking her thoughts away.
Helen nodded. “Once yo
u’re dressed. He passed along the message that you are to meet him in the music room.”
For a brief moment, Amelia considered refusing, but the truth was she did wish to see her husband. And she desperately wanted to try on this beautiful gown and see if it fit as perfectly as it seemed it would.
“We would not want to deny the earl,” she murmured as she motioned Helen to assist her.
* * * * *
WHEN AMELIA ENTERED the room half an hour later, she was shocked to find her husband at the pianoforte, playing a beautiful piece with great passion. The music wrapped around her as she shut the door behind herself. It drew her closer, as did he.
She watched his face as his fingers moved across the keys. He was intensely focused on the music, his dark eyes darting to follow his swiftly moving hands.
She thought he hadn’t noticed her, but when the last notes of the music faded, he turned to smile at her.
“Amelia.”
She swallowed hard. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath until she drew air into her lungs.
“That was…lovely,” she said, her voice barely carrying.
“Thank you, I wrote it,” he said as he pushed away from the pianoforte and moved toward her. “My God, that dress is amazing on you.”
She glanced down, but suddenly the dress seemed less important. “Thank you, it is beautiful. But…did you say you wrote that song?”
He held her gaze evenly. “I did.”
“I didn’t even know you played, let alone wrote music,” she mused, more to herself than to him.
“That is because I wasn’t entirely open with you when we courted,” he admitted softly. “A fact I am trying to remedy now. Would you like to know the name of the piece?”
She nodded slowly. “Of course.”
He moved closer and cupped her chin, tilting her face up slightly. “‘Amelia’,” he breathed.
“Yes?” she said, unsteady on her feet.
He laughed. “No, that is the name of the song I was playing. I called it ‘Amelia.’”
She drew back, staggering away from his touch. “You wrote a song and named it after me?”
“I wrote a song while thinking of you,” he corrected quietly. “Dreaming of you. Regretting you.”
She caught her breath and tried to turn away. “Stephen.”
He moved on her again, not allowing her the escape she craved. “Amelia, please allow me to speak. To explain myself.”
She stared at him, fear welling from deep within her. She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear him, for good or for ill. And yet he looked so sincere, with a pleading in his eyes she couldn’t refuse.
“Very well,” she said. “But may we sit?”
He nodded and motioned to a settee across the room that looked out over the beautiful grounds just behind the music room. She could see tea had already been set there and she shook her head. The man was always a step ahead of her.
When they were settled on the couch together, he motioned to the tea. “Would you like a cup?”
She nodded. “But I do not trust myself to pour it presently,” she admitted, lifting one of her shaking hands so he could see.
His expression softened. “Then allow me. A dash of milk and two sugars, yes?”
If her entire body hadn’t been so tightly coiled in nervous anxiety, she might have laughed. “You do know everything.”
He poured and flavored her tea swiftly. “I told you, I am driven to know you so I may properly court you this time.”
She sipped the warm liquid and then set it aside. “But why? I still don’t understand why.”
He drew a breath and for a moment she saw all the emotions he normally hid from the world. And yes, regret was one of them. She stared in shock at the honesty on his face. And her heart fluttered as she realized he might indeed want her.
“I understand your question,” he said softly. “And if you will allow me to start at the beginning, I hope I can make everything clear.”
Chapter 5
STEPHEN SHIFTED SLIGHTLY. He had never been an open person. Revealing his past, his emotions—those were not things he did easily. And yet doing just that was his only hope.
So he took a long breath and began.
“I was born like most men of my rank, with the expectations of my family and the generations of men who held my title on my back. I admit, I have been arrogant over the years, certain of what I was and would be. But my life changed when my father died a year ago.”
Amelia nodded, and he saw the faint hint of compassion in her eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch her, love her for still feeling anything tender or kind toward him when he had hurt her so deeply.
But he refrained. It wouldn’t be fair until he had told her the entire story.
“My father had been instructing me for years about taking over as earl, but he had never told me—” He broke off as pain mobbed him, wiping away reason for a moment.
Amelia leaned forward and, to his surprise, she touched his fingers lightly. That brief brush of her skin brought him back to reality and he stared at her, an anchor in the storm of his memories.
“What didn’t he tell you?” she whispered, her tone gentle, soothing.
“When he died, the facts of our situation became clear,” Stephen continued slowly. “The family coffers were all but empty. My father’s father had invested badly and my own father took to gambling to try to refill the reserves. In the end, he lost even more. We had scarcely a farthing and the debts were looming.”
She stiffened. “That certainly explains your desire to wed well.”
He shook his head. “No, my darling, it does not fully. I might have simply pulled us up by the thin threads of my bootstraps, over years of hard work, but for Celia.”
Amelia’s brow wrinkled. “Your sister?”
He nodded. “Everyone believes her to be a reclusive old maid who will not take company, but that isn’t the entire story. You see, she’s been very ill her entire life. She is seen by a physician daily, takes a great deal of medicine and…”
He trailed off, and Amelia nodded. “That is costly.”
He could have kissed her for expressing what his pain would not allow. “Yes.”
Amelia searched his face, looking past the arrogant exterior he had built as a wall around himself. He allowed it, despite how terrifying that vulnerability was.
“You love her,” she whispered.
“With all my heart,” he admitted. “I want you to meet Celia, for despite her lifelong struggles, she is sunshine in every room, the light of our family. That my father would risk her health is…” He tightened a fist against his leg as rage bubbled inside of him. He fought to control it as he choked out, “I’m sorry.”
Amelia covered his fist with her hand, and his fingers loosened. “It sounds like you were left in an untenable situation, Stephen. You have every right to your anger.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps, but I had no right to do what I did next. Yes, I went into the marriage mart determined to find a bride with a dowry that would not only serve to pay for Celia’s needs, but also give our family seed money to rebuild what had been lost.”
“And mine was sufficient for both,” Amelia whispered.
He nodded. “Twenty thousand pounds is a great sum. And when I began that was all that mattered. But Amelia, it changed.”
She tilted her head. “What changed?”
“My motives did. I did. By the time we wed, I knew I truly liked you. Your intelligence and wit, your kindness and openness—I saw how valuable they were.”
She pushed to her feet and paced away. He let her go even though he longed to follow. When she turned to face him, her expression was blank, masking the pain he knew full well she felt when she said, “Yes, that was what you led me to believe in the weeks you courted me. And then you told your cousin that you only married me for the money the morning after we wed.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, brought back to the unpleasant
ness of six months ago.
“Carter has always been an ass,” he explained, feeling dark feelings toward the man even now. “And he was needling me about the family being destitute, needling me about you. I was undone by our wedding night, by how strongly I had begun to feel for you when I had tried so hard to maintain a distance between myself and any other person.”
He took a step toward her and was pleased that she didn’t take an equal one away.
“Amelia, I blurted out that I’d married you for the money, not realizing you were standing at the door,” he whispered. “When I found out you had heard me, I hated myself. But you left without allowing me to make amends.”
She swallowed hard. “And why didn’t you? I stayed in London for a few weeks before I retired to the country with Georgina and her husband. But you didn’t come.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t want to love you.” She flinched, and he rushed to explain, “I’ve always avoided the strong feelings you inspire in me. I’ll admit they terrified me. I hoped they would go away, but the longer we were apart, the more I yearned for you. These feelings didn’t fade, they only grew stronger.”
Her lips parted, pain lit in her eyes, but also…also hope. And it gave him the same emotion. He leaned toward her.
“Amelia, I dreamed of you. I ached for you. I burned for you. And finally I knew I had no choice but to give in, to accept how much I’d come to care for you. I began to write to your sister in the hopes she would help me since I knew how deeply I had hurt you.”
“And Georgina agreed to this?” she asked, her tone filled with disbelief.
He laughed. “Only after she lambasted me for my cruelty and interrogated me until she seemed to grudgingly accept my sincerity.”
Her lips turned up slightly before she forced the smile away. “All these things you say are very pretty and you must know that I have wanted to hear them, but…”
She trailed off, turning her face, and his heart sank. “But?”
“I can’t trust you,” she whispered.
He flinched. “I thought you might say that.”
She looked at him, her expression strained. “You did?”
He nodded. “And I may have a small way to show you that what I said in stupidity that morning wasn’t how I felt then. It is surely not how I feel now.”