“What shall we try now?” She cast a glance in the direction of Lucy then leaned close. “Shall I try to brush up against you?” The question was whispered with breathless earnestness.
“The fact is,” he said, his voice breaking as his blood thickened in his veins, his hands sliding to her waist of their own volition and molding against the gentle curves, “you are pressed against me now.”
The tiniest gasp escaped her as she glanced down. He looked too, though he knew damn well they were chest to chest. Despite his shirt and overcoat, he could have sworn he felt the heat of her body, her heart pounding in a steady rhythm, and the hardened peaks of her nipples. Fierce need pummeled him. Inhaling slowly, he gently set her away. “No need to practice this anymore. You’ve mastered it, as well.”
She grinned. “What shall we work on now?”
“The art of conversing,” he immediately replied. No more touching her or else he would take that kiss he neither had right to take nor want near as much as he did.
“I know how to talk perfectly well.” Her statement was punctuated with a snort of sorts that made him laugh.
Gripping her elbow, he led her to a bench across the cobblestone terrace and in front of a trickling fountain. Once seated, he faced her. “There is a difference between talking to your family or the ladies you know and talking to a gentleman in whom you are interested.”
“I know that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have a mother, after all.”
She did indeed, but her mother had already confirmed that she had been negligent about informing Amelia exactly how to capture a man’s attention. The question remained as to why, though Lady Harthorne did appear willing to allow Amelia to learn now that she knew a marriage would be forthcoming no matter what.
“Let’s see what you think you know.” The anticipation that strummed through him surprised him. “Let’s pretend you are interested in capturing my attention.”
Amelia’s cheeks immediately pinked. “All right.”
“How would you respond if I said I want nothing more in a wife than one who looks pretty in a gown, can play the pianoforte expertly and will be adept at planning the perfect grand dinner party.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’d say you were in for one boring marriage.”
For some reason her answer pleased him immensely, though it was entirely wrong. He struggled to school his features, but he could feel a smile of appreciation pulling at his lips. “You cannot say that, or you will have no eligible gentlemen offer for you.”
She shrugged. “I would rather end up alone than married to a man who could never love the woman I truly am. I detest the pianoforte. And frankly, I loathe large dinner parties. You can never truly talk to the attendees and get to know them or what they really think. On most occasions, the conversation is meaningless and revolves around the weather, at best, or cruel gossip at worst. I’d much rather marry a man who prefers small intimate gatherings with true friends rather than large ostentatious affairs given only to show off one’s wealth.”
Colin knew he was staring at her, but he could not help it. Who was this creature? Was this truly how she felt or was she far better at the art of telling a man what he wanted to hear than Colin had ever suspected? Her words had echoed his sentiments almost exactly.
“Worthington is the sort of man who will want to have a great many large dinner parties.”
“You’re mistaken.” Her voice had raised a notch.
Colin tensed. Worthington had always been too self-conscious of the fact that his father was not nearly as wealthy as many other lords, and Worthington’s mother was an incredibly scheming woman. Colin was sure he was right about the man and what he wanted. He should let it be. If she had a false impression of Worthington, what did Colin care? He didn’t want to marry her. Hell, he didn’t want to marry at all. He had to. He’d simply find another apathetic woman to put in her place. The need to speak was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Damnation. Drumming his fingers on his knee, he attempted to let it go, but he could not. If there was any chance she was as true as she seemed, he could not let her go on thinking Worthington was a paragon of goodness.
“I’m afraid I’m not mistaken. I went to school with him, and I know him well. He will want dinner parties. He will desire you to play the pianoforte, titter when he tells a joke, inane or not, and look stunning in a gown.”
“He will love me for me,” she snapped. “Not those silly things you mentioned.”
“Perhaps,” he replied, evenly. It was a struggle not to let the strange anger building in him seep into his tone. His eyes captured her wide, beautiful gaze. What would it be like for her to speak of his character with such confidence and assurance? The thought stunned him. Why did he care? He did not. Could not. Standing, he held out a hand to her. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”
Her gaze and her movements bespoke her hesitation, but she took his elbow and allowed him to lead her into the house with Lucy trailing behind them. With an unaccountable sense of excitement, she stopped in front of the three boxes he had brought from the seamstress. He picked up the first package and handed it to her. “A gift for tomorrow night’s dance.”
Her eyebrows rose in an expression of amazement. “You should not have.”
“Why not?” he said with an ease he did not feel at the moment. “I want you to ensnare Worthington if that’s what you truly want.”
Her lashes lowered as she glanced down at the box and opened it. An exclamation of delight came from her that filled him with instant pleasure. With trembling hands, she carefully set the box on a table and gathered the gown out of it.
“It’s exquisite.” Her eyes tilted to meet his, and his heart jerked at the tears glistening there. “I’ve never been given such a beautiful gown,” she whispered.
“I’ve never given such a gown.” Actually, he had never bought a gift for any woman in his life, save his mother. He had given plenty of blunt but never a personal gift. “I have to confess I enjoyed dress shopping much more than I ever thought I would.”
“Oh?” She pursed her lips in an irresistible smirk. “I now have a secret to lord over you.”
“I suppose you do,” he teased back, a foreign light-hearted feeling coming over him. “Try it on for me.”
Her eyes widened.
“I mean so that we can ensure it fits you properly.” Really, he wanted to see her in it.
“I suppose we do need to know that. I’ll be quick,” she said with a grin and dashed off before he could respond.
Colin barely had time to prowl the room before soft footsteps tapped against the hardwood stairs and two slippered feet appeared, followed by a peek of swishing rose skirts and finally, Amelia. She was stunning in the silk gown he had chosen for her. His breath snagged in his chest. “The color is perfect for you, just as I suspected it might be with your light hair and bright eyes. The contrast is magnificent.”
“Thank you,” she said, descending the last of the steps to come directly in front of him. She titled her head up as she assessed him. “I’m astonished how well this gown fits me, considering that it must have been a sample or perhaps one that was never picked up.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “I had it made today.” He tapped her back lightly and quickly. “Stand up straight.”
She complied while studying him. “You couldn’t have possibly had it made today.”
“Anything is possible when you have enough blunt, Amelia.” He swept his gaze over her body. The gown hugged every curve exactly as he had expected, and this garment was not even made by the finest dressmakers in London. When he got her to Town and had her fitted for the Season… His blood thickened as he considered the alluring picture she was going to present when she made her debut. No man she wanted would be able to resist her tomorrow night. Really, any man who even used half his faculties would not be able to resist her.
“Did my mother give you my measurements?”
“No. I did n
ot need her to.”
Amelia frowned. “Is your accuracy in judging women’s measurements due to all the women you have known so intimately?”
He stiffened at the caustic remark. Not because it was not accurate. It was. Yet he wished it wasn’t. His choices, however well meaning they had been, had made him miserable and dishonorable. “I suppose that’s a true enough remark. Do you want all the sordid details of my life? It could provide you quite the risqué education.”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks as all the color leeched from her face. “No. You may keep your details. They are not mine to know, unless you need a friend with whom to share them.”
“I have enough friends,” he lied.
She cast her gaze away, wringing her hands in front of her. “I’m terribly sorry. That was a horrid thing to say. I don’t know what came over me.”
The last sentiment he understood perfectly. He was confused about what was possessing him lately, too. He had a desire to tell her why he had done the things he had, but he didn’t understand why. He wasn’t supposed to care what she thought, but a part of him did. He drew a breath and released it slowly as he glanced out the window toward the driveway where Harthorne’s carriage ambled up the path. “Your brother is home. Why don’t you go change so you can surprise him with how lovely you look in your new gown tomorrow night?”
In truth, Harthorne and he needed to sign the wager paper, and Colin didn’t want to chance his friend saying something to Amelia about his father’s will and the fact that Colin had to marry or lose his fortune. When she’d asked him if there was anything else she should know about the wager, he had considered telling her. But then he’d thought better of it. Right now, her head was full of fanciful ideas about love, and she might have refused to participate in the wager, despite her family’s predicament, if she’d known in actuality he had to marry. Women were too unpredictable to chance complete honesty.
Amelia’s nerves were twisted into one big tangled knot that sat in the center of her stomach. Lively music swirled around her, along with the oppressive heat from all the eager bodies crammed into the Stanhope’s ballroom for the annual country-dance that kicked off the departure of everyone going to London for the Season. She was going, therefore she should be ecstatic, but she was not. Far from it.
This night should have been perfect―a fairy tale beginning to her very own happily ever after. She had on a beautiful gown, thanks to a generous gift from the wicked, or was that wickedly handsome, duke.
Couples cavorted down the line of dancers with happy smiles on their faces. Amelia forced that same expression to her lips, though she was positive it had to look false. She tapped her foot in time to the music to appear as if she were having a grand time, standing there absolutely alone. Well, throngs of acquaintances surrounded her, but the only person that mattered might as well not have been there, given he had not exchanged a single word with her yet tonight. What was wrong with her fairy tale?
A tittering of especially grating female laughter came from her right. She cast her glance toward the punch bowl where it landed on her blue-gowned rival for her knight in shining armor. Georgiana batted her eyelashes at Charles as he led her to the parquet dance floor.
Oh yes, now she remembered what was wrong with her story. Her knight had failed to notice her. Well, that was not entirely true. She had seen Charles gape at her when she had come into the ball on her brother’s arm. Despite the gloomy mood that had pervaded because of her mother’s earlier refusal to talk to her, excitement had bubbled in her chest when Amelia had entered the ballroom and her sadness had vanished with Charles’s look. She had been sure by the raised eyebrows and appreciative smiles of men who had known her all her life that her moment had finally arrived. That was, until Georgiana had swept up to Charles’s side and poof Amelia’s chance had disappeared before her eyes. No magic involved there. Georgiana was simply more beautiful and apparently more interesting.
Amelia steeled herself against the unhelpful thoughts. She was not ready to give up quite yet. She just was not sure what to do now. Across the ballroom, Constance and her husband appeared in the doorway, and Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe her friend would have an idea of how to get Charles to notice her. She raised her hand to wave Constance over, but before she got it halfway in the air, a hand clamped on her elbow and pulled her arm down.
Jerking her head around, she blinked at the sight of Colin standing directly behind her. He looked… She struggled to find the words to match what she thought… He looked stunning. Could one use that word to describe a man? No matter. It fit.
His black coat and trousers molded to his powerful body in a way that displayed his muscles to perfection. His crimson cravat, tied in the most exquisite knot she had ever seen, should have made him look foreboding, but he appeared tamed by societal rules temporarily, which she was sure was not accurate. He simply knew how to play the game.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, a knowing smile spreading across his lips. “Has my appearance rendered you speechless?”
She caught herself about to nod and instead shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I’m just surprised to see you here.” He had been languishing in the study with a book when she and Philip had left.
“Excellent.” He grinned. “I do so love the upper hand the element of surprise can offer.”
She returned his infectious grin. “That, Your Grace, does not surprise me.”
“Already you know me so well,” he said huskily.
Heavens, but she was suddenly hot. He seemed to have a way of doing that to her. She swallowed, wishing for a fan. “If you were intending to come tonight, why didn’t you ride with Philip and me?”
“Because it would not do for everyone to realize I was staying at your house. As I said before, if you end up as my wife, I want no hint of rumor attached to your name.”
She pressed her lips together. “You should have remained home with your book. I’ll never end up your duchess.”
He regarded her quizzically for a moment before slowly smiling. “I do so like your strong mind. However, you should know I plan to be at every social function you attend from here on out.”
“Whatever for?” she managed to ask in a steady voice, though her pulse had begun to gallop at his words.
He moved to stand beside her. “Why to help make you an Incomparable, of course, so Worthington will realize he simply must have you as his wife or so you will realize that you simply must have a duke. That cannot happen if you are standing all alone on the side of the dance floor with the other wallflowers.” He gave her a cheeky grin.
She scowled at him. Blasted man. He thought he knew women so well. She was going to show him. “I’m not standing with the other wallflowers.”
He looked over his shoulder and back at her. “I beg to differ.”
Darting a quick look behind her, she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of five women loitering near the plotted plants and looking decidedly abysmal. Wretched man. He was right but she’d die before admitting it.
“I’m strategizing on how to get Lord Worthington’s attention.”
“How is that going?” he asked, a smirk pulling at his lips. Her chest tightened as she followed the direction of his gaze to where Charles and Georgiana were still twirling on the dance floor.
“Not very well,” she begrudgingly admitted. She could have lied, but what was the point? The truth was too apparent to deny.
Colin turned his head toward her, his gaze softening and the smirk disappearing. “Worthington is a fool.”
“Be that as it may, he is a fool who stole my heart long ago,”
A strange glint came into Colin’s eyes but was gone before she could place it. His fingers grazed momentarily over the bare skin of her arm before disappearing. Gooseflesh covered the surface where he had touched her. Automatically, she ran her hand against her skin to rub away the bumps.
He leaned near her. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”
&nb
sp; His husky voice vibrated in her ear, and the sensitive skin of her lobe tingled from his warm breath against her tender flesh. “No,” she said, irritated with the way her pulse sped every time he drew close to her.
A deep chuckle rumbled from him. “It’s good to be guarded, especially with a man that has a reputation like mine, but you can trust me.”
She glanced sideways at him, and he grinned, showing his gleaming white teeth, much like a wolf. “I can trust you?”
His smile widened. “For tonight anyway.”
She snorted. “Do you know you have a predatory look in your eyes?”
“Do I? Some habits are hard to break.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Enough about me. Listen to my plan.”
“Yes, all right,” she said, trying and failing to wipe the grin off her face. Colin’s humor and willingness to joke about himself surprised her and, she realized, put her at ease. “What’s your plan?”
“We are going to make Worthington jealous.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“Simple, my dear,” he said in the silkiest voice she had ever heard. Colin took the dance card she had been fidgeting with and read it with narrowing eyes.
“Bunch of fools,” he muttered under his breath, yet she heard him.
“Who?”
He glanced up sharply then swept his gaze across the dance floor. Raising his hand, he pointed to Lord Belford. “He’s a fool. And there.” He jabbed his finger in Lord Cooper’s direction. “Definitely lacking wits.” He jerked his head toward Lord Herbert who walked in front of them and smiled at her but did not stop. “He may be the biggest idiot of them all,” Colin practically snarled and none too quiet. Lord Herbert glanced back at them, his forehead creased in puzzlement.
“Lower your voice,” she hissed. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
His gaze, now dark and dazzling with fury, pierced her. This time her pulse did not simply speed up, it raced ahead, so that she felt as if catching her breath might be impossible.
“There is nothing the matter with me. It is the lot of men here who have dull wits or else your dance card would be full.”
My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) Page 15