The Duke of Her Desire: Diamonds in the Rough Page 8

  Her features softened until nothing but genuine remorse remained. It shone from her eyes and traced the curve of her lips in a desperate plea for forgiveness. “It occurs to me that I never asked you about your reasoning.” Stepping closer, he allowed himself to sit down beside her while keeping a respectable amount of distance between them. “Why did you do it, Lady Amelia? Why is acquiring that house so important to you that you would risk so much in order to obtain it?”

  It took a while for her to speak. In fact, he’d begun to think she wouldn’t answer, her gaze fixed on a flower bed filled with a lovely collection of roses. The sweet scent permeated the air while bees buzzed to and fro in their lively search for nectar.

  “One of the hardest things about moving into this grand house and being dressed like a princess, besides knowing I’ll never truly fit in and that some will always question my suitability, is remembering the people I left behind—especially the children.” She swallowed and then clenched her jaw before looking at him with liquid-green pools of emotion. “I cannot stand the idea of having so much when they have so little, that some improbable stroke of luck has elevated me to this, and for what? Unless I put my wealth to good use and do something meaningful with it, what point does it have?”

  “I cannot say, besides offering you a comfortable life that you would have been denied if your brother had not inherited the title.”

  “And just look at the series of events that had to take place in order for that to happen.” She shook her head and produced a weak laugh. “For years I’ve accepted my fate, believing that if I was lucky I might one day marry a blacksmith. Instead, I find myself pursuing some of the wealthiest men in England.”

  “Your birthright makes you worthy of them.”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  He found her blunt statement a little unsettling. “Your lineage is—”

  “There ought to be more to it than that—a proper education at the very least.”

  “You are wrong if you think you are lacking in that regard. From what little I have managed to gather about you and your sister, your proficiency in math and science surpasses that of most young ladies, who tend to receive only basic training in such areas. They are raised to marry well and produce the next heir. It is rare that their skill with numbers goes beyond the ability to keep the necessary housekeeping records, while you . . . Your brother mentioned you have all studied numerous texts on the subject and that you also have a sound knowledge of history, geography and politics.”

  “Books were our only source of entertainment. We’d brought a few with us when we left our home and after having read them all repeatedly, Raphe began exchanging them for others. He kept insisting that knowledge was power, and that it was something no one could ever take away from us.”

  Touched by the sadness with which she spoke, Thomas raised his hand with the intention of reaching for hers. Blinking, he acknowledged how wrong such a gesture would be, the numerous ways in which she might misjudge it. So he lowered it once more, settling it back in his lap. “Your brother was right. He did well by you and your sister.”

  “Yes. I believe he did.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “And if I can do well by others, then my conscience might find some peace.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Her smile widened with the sort of pleasure that poured from every part of her. It produced a glow that warmed his skin in a way the sun failed to do, and for a moment, he was awestruck by her beauty. It was rare and unique, the kind that revealed itself slowly until it was so overpowering it could no longer be denied. And as she leaned closer and he managed to catch a glimpse of perfection in the thick dark lashes that shaded her eyes, he felt something ease inside him. It was almost as though she were able to pull out his knotted insides and replace them with rippling waves of calm.

  “My intention is to open a school.”

  The words were so soft he almost missed them. Without thinking, he dropped his gaze to her mouth as if seeing some movement there would confirm she’d spoken. Instead, he found himself studying the subtle dip of her lower lip and how carefully her upper lip hovered over it. It left him feeling slightly unsettled, if not completely confused about the sudden interest he seemed to be having in that particular part of her face.

  And then the weight of her comment struck him and his eyes snapped back to hers. “A school?”

  She gave an enthusiastic nod. It was almost as if the strain that had existed between them had been completely undone and tossed aside. “Precisely.” Her eyes gleamed with the sort of pleasure one might find in shocking someone with a bit of juicy gossip. Except this was so much more substantial, it fairly boggled his mind. “What I’m planning is to renovate that house and then offer the children of St. Giles a proper education, free of charge.”

  “Free of charge,” he repeated like the dumbfounded fool he’d been reduced to in the face of her startling attempt at charity. Shaking himself, he straightened his spine and tried to focus on the implications of her idea. It would certainly be welcomed by the poor, but the cost would be staggering. “How will you fund it?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” she confessed. “If you must know, this has all been a bit of a hasty decision on my part.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

  “There’s no need to mock me,” she chastised. “I’ll figure it out one way or another. There simply has to be a way.”

  “Your tenacity will no doubt reveal the answer.”

  “Yes well . . . there is one small issue I thought I might ask for your assistance with.” She was suddenly on her feet, which forced him to rise, as well. He watched as she began to pace while making all sorts of agitated gestures with her hands. “Now that we are friends again . . .”

  Oh hell. This was not going to end well.

  “Yes?” he prompted when her attention seemed to drift toward a couple of birds now perching on a branch.

  She spun toward him as if he’d startled her. “Well . . . I . . . you see, the thing is . . .”

  “What?”

  Stopping right in front of him, she seemed to deflate on an exhalation of breath. “I think you’re going to be very angry with me when I tell you this, but the truth is, I can think of no one else to turn to for help.”

  Balling his fingers into fists, he forced down the rising panic her words evoked. “Tell me,” he said, since knowing was better than not doing so.

  With a sigh, she crossed her arms in that manner he now recognized as a sign of defensiveness. “As it turns out, I don’t have the money I owe Mr. Gorrell.”

  Thomas’s entire body went rigid and he did his best not to mutter an unpleasant curse. “Did you ever have it?”

  “No.”

  Biting his tongue, he took a moment to force some sense of calm into the words he would speak next. “Then why”—the bloody hell—“did you bid as high as you did?”

  “Because if I hadn’t, I would have lost the building. I’m certain of it.”

  “To whom?” His words came out louder than he’d intended because of his frustration, so he drew a fortifying breath and ran his hand through his hair before addressing her once again. “I do not believe Mr. Gorrell had another buyer. He tricked you, Lady Amelia, forcing you to pay much more than that hovel is worth.”

  “It is not a hovel,” she said with a glare. “It is an opportunity to do something more important than parade about in silk gowns and dance at balls.” Her hands were suddenly clasping his. “Don’t you see? This is a chance to do something significant.”

  As he gazed down into her upturned face, he could feel her energy seeping from her hands and straight into his. It flowed up his arms and filled his chest with a new awareness, as if he’d lived in a world of grays and whites and she had shown him the color. Disturbed by the powerful effect she was having, he snatched his hands away and stepped back quickly. What was she thinking to touch him with such familiarity? Had it even occurred to her she�
�d done so or had she merely been propelled by the fire that blazed in her eyes? Surely, it must have affected her soul.

  With a glance toward the terrace, he ensured no one had noticed the gesture, and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed right now was for his mother to suspect his interest in Lady Amelia went beyond his duty toward Huntley. Which it didn’t. To suppose such a thing would be madness, even if he might be able to lose himself in her eyes and her mouth made him think of ripe strawberries served on a hot afternoon.

  “Very well,” he said, if for no other reason than to stop thinking about her in tantalizing terms. “What do you propose?”

  Her lips parted and she stared straight back at him with no small degree of stupefaction. “What do I propose?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him some more, then gathered herself and asked, “Will you give me a loan?”

  He should have expected the question, all things considered. Later that day, he would certainly wonder why he hadn’t. For now, he simply tried to process her request. “You want to borrow two thousand five hundred pounds from me?”

  “I don’t know who else to ask. Raphe—I mean, Huntley—won’t be back in time to help me, and if I don’t pay what is owed, Mr. Gorrell will call a debt collector.”

  “Such a man can be turned away for a while, perhaps long enough to allow for Huntley’s return.” Inhaling deeply, he pushed air back out through his nose. “There’s no guarantee that Mr. Gorrell will not use such a delay against you, however. All he would have to do is let everyone know you broke your promise—that you cannot be trusted—that Huntley’s sister cannot make good on her word—and the scandal will ruin any chance you have of finding a husband.”

  Closing her eyes against the harsh reality he painted, she bowed her head. “Then help me. Please.”

  “Give me a couple of days in which to think about it, and I will let you know what I decide.” It was the best he could do at the moment, at least if he was to use his common sense, that was. Because the alternative would be to make a hasty decision based solely on some new, inexplicable desire he had to save her from the mess she’d created. And that was something he simply couldn’t allow himself to do.

  Chapter 8

  “I feel as though I’m caught in a dream,” Amelia whispered to her sister when they climbed the steps to Elmwood House Friday evening. A long parade of carriages pulled by magnificent horses rolled by behind them in the street. “Being a guest and arriving with all of this showiness is something of an experience.”

  “I’m just glad our gowns managed to arrive on time,” Juliette said. “It’s nice to enjoy the evening with something new to wear.”

  Amelia chose not to mention that her sister had several other gowns in her wardrobe that she’d never worn before. At least two of them would have been appropriate for this evening’s event. Still, she had to concede that she was a bit pleased with the prospect herself. After taking a close look at each of the gowns the dressmaker had delivered, she’d settled on a pretty creation of gold silk gauze. It had been meticulously stitched in layers of breezy skirts that billowed behind her as she walked. The bodice, cut lower than she’d expected, was accentuated with a pretty row of shimmering beads while a wide satin sash cut beneath her breasts to tie at the back in a bow.

  Arriving at the entrance, she felt her stomach tighten with anticipation, because although she’d decided to forget about trying to win Coventry’s affection—not that she wanted it any longer since she’d fallen out of love with him—she couldn’t help but hope for him to be a bit taken with her this evening. It was an innate longing for him to be drawn to her femininity, to look at her with masculine appreciation glowing in his eyes and . . . Well, she simply wanted him to find her attractive. What harm was there in that?

  Lady Everly introduced her and Juliette to their host and hostess, the Earl and Countess of Elmwood. Amelia managed to complete an acceptable curtsey before continuing through to the dazzling display of light reflecting off three crystal chandeliers and countless gemstones.

  Accompanying her chaperones, she made brief and polite conversation with those who approached and asked for introductions. Her dance card was pulled from her reticule and soon contained the names of three partners with whom she would be dancing. She recalled two of the names from the list prepared by Lady Everly, but couldn’t remember the third, though she believed he was a baron. His title had been lost amid all the compliments he’d been bestowing.

  “Ladies . . .”

  The deep timbre of Coventry’s voice drew her attention as he came up behind them.

  With her heart pattering so rapidly against her chest that she started to fear for her stays, Amelia took a deep breath and turned slowly toward him, catching him right in the middle of his elegant bow. Their eyes met and for a second he seemed to go utterly still. Blinking, he straightened to his full height and allowed his gaze to wander from Amelia to Juliette to Lady Everly and then back to Amelia once more before saying, “You must be the loveliest ladies here, besides my own mother.”

  From her position to his right, the dowager duchess chuckled before moving toward Lady Everly and whispering something in her ear. The countess nodded and replied with an equally incoherent answer. Coventry turned toward Juliette. “I was hoping to dance with you if your card has not yet been filled.”

  Juliette grinned. “Indeed it has not been. I’d be delighted to partner with you this evening, Your Grace.” She handed him her card and Amelia watched while he scribbled his name.

  He turned to her next and for one fleeting second—just long enough for her skin to grow hot beneath the intensity of his regard—he lowered his gaze to the wide expanse of skin her gown revealed. “And you, my lady?” he inquired, his eyes meeting hers once again. “Would you be kind enough to partner with me, as well?”

  Unable to get a single word past the dryness in her throat, Amelia nodded and handed him her card. He studied it so long she began to grow anxious. A frown appeared on the bridge of his nose. Looking up, he gave her an assessing look, considered the card once more and proceeded to write.

  Amelia almost snatched the card from between his fingers when he finally held it toward her, her eyes flying across the various names until she encountered his. “The waltz?” She raised her head with a jerk and stared at him in confusion.

  “Since your brother did task me with protecting you, I think I ought to prevent another gentleman from claiming it.”

  “But . . .” She looked at her sister, whose eyes kept shifting from Amelia to Coventry and back again. “What about Juliette?”

  His lips widened to form an accommodating smile. “I believe Lord Yates will be more than happy to step in. She will be fine.”

  “But . . .”

  Stepping back, he sketched a quick bow. “You must excuse me now. I have a bit of business to attend to. Mama?” He drew the dowager duchess’s attention. “I trust you and Lady Everly will keep a vigilant eye on Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette for the next hour or so?”

  “Of course.” Both matrons were suddenly leading Amelia and Juliette away from Coventry while the dowager duchess craned her neck and scanned the room. “Let us find Mr. Lowell,” she said. “He must be here somewhere.”

  Resisting the urge to tug on his cravat, Thomas strode toward the gaming room and approached the sideboard where a selection of bottles and carafes had been put on display. He poured himself a brandy, downing the spicy liquor in one swift gulp before pouring himself another. What in God’s name was Lady Amelia wearing? He tried to recall, but his mind remained blank, save for a vision of creamy skin rising from beneath a blur of gold trimmings. And her breasts! How the hell had he failed to notice the impeccable shape of them before? They were like a pair of treats encased in smooth deliciousness just begging to be sampled.

  Damnation!

  He’d have to have a strict word with his mother and Lady Everly about this. Not that there was anything inappropriate ab
out Lady Amelia’s choice of gown per se—especially not if its purpose was to cause her dance partner to falter—but he’d been so accustomed to seeing her more modestly attired that this new vision she presented was like a kick in the shin.

  Refraining from fetching a shawl or some other large piece of fabric and demanding she cover herself had been bloody difficult. In fact, he’d been tempted to stick to her side and ensure that every gentleman she entertained would be looking at her face instead of a few inches lower. But the fact was he’d come here for more than one reason, and since he’d no desire to ruin Lady Amelia’s evening, he’d chosen to remove himself from her company and leave her in his mother’s and Lady Everly’s capable hands before he said something regrettable.

  Savoring his next sip of brandy, he scanned the room until he located Lord Liverpool. The prime minister was finishing up a game of faro so Thomas strode forward, slicing his way across the carpet until he stood at the man’s shoulder. Leaning down, he whispered close to his ear, “I was wondering if I might have a word.”

  “Your Grace,” Liverpool said, turning his head and looking up. He didn’t seem too pleased with the interruption, but excused himself to his companions anyway before shoving himself to his feet and following Thomas to a private corner. “How may I be of service?”

  “It is about my bill,” Thomas began.

  Liverpool raised a knowing eyebrow. He rocked back on his heels before saying, “I am sorry, Coventry, but I do not see a positive outcome for it.”

  “Why not?” This bill meant everything to him. “Have you even tried to convince others of its importance?”