She took a steadying breath, giving up on the buttons. Nothing she could do would make her look less disheveled. “Any woman who just did what I did would suffer from . . . embarrassment.” She couldn’t even voice her thoughts aloud without blushing. She bit her lip. “In the midst of everything with my brother, I feel ashamed by what we have done.”
“I think we should cure you of this embarrassment.”
Nick leaned close to her and cupped both her breasts, squeezing them together with a groan. She didn’t have the strength to stop him, not that she really wanted to stop him. Still, a small sense of reason came through, and she forced herself to push him away.
“A shame to cover them at all,” Nick said, handing her the shawl she’d been wearing before their interlude. It would have to be enough to cover up the evidence of their frenzied lovemaking.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as she turned away from him. “How I feel around you frightens me.”
Her voice wavered, but she held her head high as she adjusted her skirts so she was more presentable. It didn’t help. She felt as rumpled and disorganized as her dress, as warring thoughts bombarded her mind.
“That’s the last thing I want,” he said.
“Your appointment book said you were meeting Lord Burley for dinner.”
“My appointments can wait.” Nick reached out to her, caressing the side of her face with his hand. “We were only going to discuss our approach with Murray. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No. I just need to change,” she said, which was partly the truth.
Nick grasped her hand before she could make her escape.
“This is all so new to me, Nick. My life has changed completely and in so short a time. My brother, added to everything else, makes it all the more confusing. I just need some time. To think.”
He let her go.
She didn’t question it, and didn’t look back as she left him standing in the middle of the library, his hands tucked in his pockets. She had a feeling he wouldn’t leave her alone for too long. She only required enough time to think about what she was doing and what she wanted. Enough time to come up with a plan to deal with her brother and make him leave her alone once and for all. If such a thing were possible. More than anything, she just needed to think clearly, and she couldn’t do that when she was around Nick.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The silence was killing her. The inaction from her brother disturbed her. But she didn’t know how to find him, especially considering he didn’t want to be found. No more letters had come, and waiting for something to happen made her edgy and nervous. Nick had left only twice in the past few days. Huxley was there when Nick was gone. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful or if their constant presence would drive her insane.
In the past few days she wasn’t any closer to sorting out her feelings for Nick either. There had been no repeats in the library, but their nights were another story entirely.
Unable to remain idle and wanting to focus on anything to keep her mind from straying back to her brother, Amelia decided to finish responding to a few letters while Nick worked in the study. It was hard to think straight with Nick sitting not ten feet away from her. Every time she closed her eyes, the memories of their nights flashed through her mind. The things that Nick had done to her, the things she imagined doing to him. She pressed her fingers against her mouth, feeling the press of Nick stamped into her very flesh.
She slammed the door on those thoughts as she picked up the silver letter opener and sliced another envelope open. This was not an appropriate place or time for those kinds of thoughts. And despite all they had done, she felt that Nick was holding some of himself back.
Nick’s warm hands massaged her shoulders. She’d been so focused on her task that she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. She moaned with each rotation of his thumb into a tight knot that tensed up one shoulder. His touch was like heaven. It gave her comfort and offered a sense of security.
Her life truly had been flipped on its head the moment Jeremy had come back into it. But Nick had given her so many new memories to help her forget all the horrible events in her past.
A firm knock came on the study door, startling her. She felt her face flame at the idea of being caught, but Nick was already sitting back at his desk as the door opened.
She needed to learn how to control her blushing if she was going to carry on in the illicit affair with her employer. If she didn’t hide her feelings and her reactions to Nick during the day, someone would figure out what was going on with her and the master of the house—though it was possible some already had guessed, not that they had treated her any differently.
Mrs. Coleman entered the study. “A number of packages have arrived for you, Amelia. Would you like to set them up in your dressing room?” Amelia looked at Nick, wondering if she could be pulled away. “Or should Jenny and Josie arrange everything?”
Amelia pushed out her chair. She probably should have let Nick answer for her, but she was feeling restless and needed to occupy her thoughts elsewhere. “I haven’t seen what Miss Newgate selected. She surely selected something tremendously awful. I do not mind bringing the packages up to my room.”
Glancing at Nick, Amelia saw his smirk. Was his reaction because he suspected the mutual animosity between the two women? Perhaps he had detected the thread of jealousy Amelia couldn’t keep from her voice. Either way, she didn’t say anything with Mrs. Coleman there to witness their level of comfort with each other. Nick couldn’t expect them to carry on as they were indefinitely. Or was this just how men carried on during an affair with their mistresses? She internally cringed at likening herself to such a thing, but that was essentially what she was. She’d have to discuss her future in this household with him soon. The longer she put it off, the worse she felt about every sin-filled night they shared.
As she left the study, she realized the only reason she fretted about the direction of the relationship was because she cared for him. More than she probably should have cared. What if he didn’t return that regard?
She focused on the task set before her. Entering the foyer, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The front door was open, allowing a rush of cold air to sweep through the room. Boxes of every shape and size littered the entry table. “I do not remember ordering so many things, Mrs. Coleman.”
“I wouldn’t complain, child. You will need it if you’re to attend business meetings with Mr. Riley.”
“I suppose so, but I have never owned such extravagance.” A frown furrowed her brow. “It feels wasteful.” And undeserved. As though the items were payment for something other than her secretarial services.
“Cannot be wasteful when you’ll need to be dressed like a lady of means. What should Mr. Riley’s clients and business associates think if you showed up to dinner in a ratty old dress you probably stole from another maid?”
“No one cared how I dressed when I was teaching. Or answering correspondence. It’s neither here nor there, I suppose. I will see how many more boxes remain.” Amelia stepped outside. The cart her boxes were in appeared to be empty. A driver was perched in the high seat, holding the horse’s reins. She curled her hands over her arms. “Good day to you, sir,” she said with a wave.
He turned to tip his hat forward before she turned away from him.
A hand clamped around her forearm and yanked her forward. She let out a surprised squeal as she tried to get her feet under her. But she was pulled too quickly and tumbled against the tall, thin figure of a man as she half fell down the stairs.
She didn’t have a chance to regain her balance until she was on the pavement. Yanking her arm away from the man who had accosted her, she fell on her bottom on the hard cement beneath her. “What in God’s name are you doing?” She dusted off her scraped hands before climbing back to her feet and getting a good look at the person who’d dragged her down the stairs. She froze as the man stood tall, lifting the brim of his beaver hat a
way from his face.
“Jeremy.” Her voice was but a whisper as she looked at her brother.
His skin was sallow, his eyes sunken as though he had binged on nothing but alcohol since she had last seen him in Berwick. His eyes were the same blue as hers, though they looked dead inside. He was impeccably dressed, though his suit looked ill fitting to his thin frame. He looked like he was on death’s door.
“You look well, Amelia.” The venom with which he said her name paralyzed her on the spot.
This can’t be happening. “I can’t say the same for you.” She didn’t know where she’d found her daring tongue, but she was glad to show him a braver side of herself. She would not be frightened by him ever again.
“Cheeky, my dear. Watch your tongue before I mind it for you.”
She glared back at him, realizing she wasn’t so much afraid of him as she was disgusted by who he was. How had he turned into this vile man? Before she could hold back, she asked, “I cannot see an ounce of our father or mother in you, yet you are my own flesh and blood. That alone shames me.”
“You always have been too sentimental, my dear. Had you learned your place in life, we would have gotten on a lot better.”
“You mean had I gone through with the marriage to Lord Ashley, you could have continued to pretend that life was grand—as long as he was paying you an annual allowance.”
Something dark crossed his eyes. Perhaps she had pushed him too far. But she would not be led by fear. She would stand up to him once and for all—and maybe he’d leave her the hell alone.
“It was a decent match, sister. Do not play it for anything less. You would have been a countess. Any young lady would vie for that position. But you had to throw it all away.”
“I refuse to marry him. He cannot marry me without my consent.”
“Do not be so naïve. There are a hundred vicars who would marry you to Ashley.”
This was not a battle she was going to win with her brother. “What do you want?” she asked coldly. “I am expected somewhere right now.”
“I am afraid you will not make that appointment,” he said, making her feel suddenly uneasy. The door to the townhouse was a stone’s throw from where she stood. She could run for the door.
“Leave me the hell alone, Jeremy.” Picking up her skirts, she didn’t hesitate to make her escape. She was halfway up the stairs before Jeremy hauled her back down, her arms scraping raw along the way as she tried to protect her head as she fell.
Jeremy stood her up roughly, holding on to the shoulder of her gown. His hand hard and firm, he slapped her across her face. “Such language from my own sister.”
She licked the blood from the side of her lip where it had split open. She wasn’t surprised that he’d raised his hand against her; he’d done it so often before. Instead of retreating from his violence as she previously had done, she didn’t temper her voice as she yelled, “Let me go, you bloody devil.”
There had to be twenty people milling about on the street, watching the interaction between them. Ladies in finery crossed the street to steer clear of the trouble between them. A few gentlemen stopped to watch, though they did nothing to help her. They didn’t know her, and for all they knew, she could be his wife, his charge. His. That thought had her stomach roiling in disgust.
Jeremy dragged her down the street, farther away from the safety of the townhouse. She fought, punched, and tried to pry his hand free from her dress, tearing the material in the process. “Someone. Please. Help me. Nick,” she all but screamed. “Nick. Mrs. Coleman.” In a smaller voice, she begged, “Please. Jeremy, let me go. You hold no right over me.”
“I hold every right, sister,” he said, loudly emphasizing the last word for those milling about, seeming torn between helping her and turning their backs. They finally did the latter as if she were some wayward sister in need of reprimand.
Her brother laughed. It was never a sound of joy when he laughed; it was too dark to be considered mirthful. He lowered his hand to her wrist, his grasp unrelenting as he pulled her along with him. She tugged back, trying to loosen his hold on her, but he didn’t let up. “It is time I took you to see your fiancé, is it not?”
Bile rose in her mouth, and she nearly threw up right there, but she knew she couldn’t appear weak. She needed to fight him off. She dug her heels into the ground, but Jeremy only dragged her when she fell over.
She scratched at his hand, desperate to stop him. He turned around and smashed his hand across her temple. Her vision went blurry, and she dropped like a bag of stones to the street. The sudden action forced her brother to release her. She was too disoriented to scramble out of the way, though by all accounts she didn’t need to, because that was when she saw him.
Nick.
Nick. Thank God.
He charged directly toward her brother as she pushed herself into a sitting position.
Mrs. Coleman’s warm hands came around her shoulders then. “Don’t you worry, child. I have you. You are safe.” The housekeeper helped Amelia move out of the way.
Nick’s bulky frame smashed right into Jeremy’s, knocking them both down to the ground. Nick’s arm came up and pummeled into her brother’s face, over and over again, unrelentingly.
Amelia cried out, “Please, Nick!” You will kill him, she wanted to say but not when there were so many spectators. She stood on wobbly feet and wavered as she reached out to a wall to steady herself.
The wet smack of flesh as Nick hit her brother was the only thing she could hear above the roaring in her ears. It made her sick, and she vomited on the pavement, with people closing in on them as Nick never let up. Mrs. Coleman rubbed her back, saying soothing words that Amelia didn’t really hear.
While there was no love lost between Amelia and her brother, she didn’t want to see him dead; she didn’t want to be the cause of that. She didn’t want to be the cause of Nick turning into this beast that seemed to have one purpose—destroying her brother.
As Amelia stumbled toward them, Mrs. Coleman tried to hold her up so she didn’t topple over again. “Nick,” Amelia called out, “you have to stop. You’re killing him.”
Tears washed down her face. Not for her brother, but for what Nick had done for her. For the beast she’d created because she’d been so stupid as to come outside alone for even a moment. This was her punishment for letting her guard down and thinking no harm would come to her.
“Stop.” She took another step, not sure how close she could get as Nick didn’t seem to be aware that she was standing there. Would he lash out at her in his rage? She didn’t think so, so she dared another step toward him.
“Nick,” she pleaded. “Nick, please. You have to stop.” She reached for him then, touching his shoulder carefully, not wanting to be caught in the fray. He stilled and released her brother. Jeremy dropped to the ground, his hands flying up covering his head and face as though that alone could ward off Nick from his warpath.
Blood covered Nick’s hands, and splatters were all over his face. He reached for her to wipe away the tears that tracked unbidden down her cheeks, but he stopped short when he saw the mess of his hands. It appeared as if Nick was bleeding too, and that thought churned her stomach. She went down to her knees to look at her brother. Thankfully, he was breathing, though his breath was labored. Jeremy rolled to his side and spit a wad of blood out next to her foot.
“You will pay for that, Amelia,” he hissed. “Do not think you can hide behind your protector forever.” He spit again; this time, a tooth came out with it.
Nick’s arm wrapped around her waist, and he hauled her off the ground, away from her brother.
Nick went after him again, only this time he lifted him clear off the ground so they were facing each other. Jeremy’s feet dangled a few inches in the air. “Look around you, you piece of shit.” When Jeremy didn’t comply, Nick shook him hard. “Look around you. There are twenty witnesses to your actions.”
“She has vowed to marry another far mo
re powerful than you,” Jeremy insisted.
“I don’t think I have made myself clear.” Nick let go of her brother, and he fell to the ground. “You’re the only one in the wrong, Berwick. I suggest you back the fuck off or next time, I will not hold back from delivering the justice you truly deserve.”
“Your threats do not scare me.”
“Consider it a promise.”
Mrs. Coleman wrapped her arms around Amelia, whispering soft words that Amelia didn’t hear as she watched Nick. He was forcing her brother away from her, making him walk backward.
“You so much as threaten a hair on any of my employees’ heads, and I will have you strung up by the balls before you can say boo. Stay away from my house and away from your sister.”
“This isn’t over.”
Nick took a few steps toward Jeremy, who backed up and fell to the pavement again. He put his hands up in front of his face to protect himself, but Nick didn’t strike out again. “Get out of London, or I will send some friends for a long visit to the hovel where you have holed up.”
Nick didn’t spare her brother another word but gave Jeremy his back and walked carefully toward her, as though afraid she’d take flight.
Nick was one man she would never run from. How could she? She was in love with him.
That thought froze her to the spot.
“Let us get you back inside. We will call the doctor to ensure you’re well,” he said evenly, as though the rage had fully leeched out of him now that he was focused on her. His arms smoothed over her arms. His touch was so gentle and careful.
“I need a minute with him,” Amelia said. He let her go, though he didn’t go more than an arm’s length away from her.
“Only a minute,” Nick agreed. “I don’t want him getting any ideas.”
She nodded, understanding his hesitancy.
Looking at her brother’s bloody and beaten face, she said, “I am sorry, Jeremy.” She truly was. She wouldn’t want this kind of thing to happen to even her worst enemy. “Just . . . just stay out of my life. I have never asked you for anything. But no good will come of your being here. I have a life here. A home. Please, leave me alone.”
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