Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4)

by Sandra Sookoo

  “How ghastly.”

  “Indeed, but reconstruction was more horrid.” He shook his head in an attempt to forget those long months of surgery and rehabilitation. “I now have limited movement with the knee, but the injury ended my field career.”

  “I’m sorry.” She leaned over the slight distance between them and touched his hand that rested on the gilt chair arm. Heat skittered over his skin. “I remember how dedicated you were.”

  “At times, the price was too high,” he admitted in a soft voice. “I see that now.”

  Her eyes reflected sadness. “You have regrets?” The question was breathless.

  “Some, yes.”

  Amelia nodded. “We all have our own demons to fight.”

  What had happened in her life to put such shadows in those gorgeous eyes? She remained guarded and closed off from him, but he’d had years to perfect the art of patience. He could wait. “Some demons are more skilled in their haunting.”

  “Yes.” Amelia straightened her spine, her touch beyond his reach. Tension filled the silence. Emotions charged the air between them. She stared at her hands folded in her lap while he watched her face for the slightest change or tell in her feelings. Nothing about her indicated her thoughts, except the smallest acceleration of her breathing. When she looked at him, her eyes were a brilliant mossy green. “You never told me you had a son the last time I saw you. That is important information.”

  “It was a hectic time, and one where we didn’t particularly wish to spend in verbal conversation.”

  Her eyes darkened. “True.” A smile curved her lips and once more he fought the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her. “I was infuriated with you... among other things.”

  As much as Cornelius wanted to revel in that tiny crack of her armor, he kept his composure. “Grieving takes many forms.” He remembered exactly how she’d felt beneath him, on top of him, against the wall as they’d made love with reckless abandon fueled by anger, regret, and grief. Those three days had been amazing, would have changed his life if he hadn’t been such a nodcock, eager to please and show his superiors what he could do in the hunger to advance his military career.

  If he hadn’t been blinded by rage knowing he’d just inherited the title when he was never supposed to have that life, he would have made a whole other set of decisions, and his life would have been completely different. Perhaps if he’d told her what he struggled with at that time. Perhaps if he’d let himself show vulnerability and honesty with her, she would have done the same for him.

  Perhaps he would have been settled with a family and her as his wife...

  But events of that night had occurred, and he’d made his decisions, and he’d run back to follow the drum as a spy with a future wide open before him.

  A lonely future, but in the back of his mind he believed she would always be there, waiting for him, as enchanted by him as he’d been with her.

  How stupid I was.

  He’d stuck around England for training, and when the news of her second marriage hit the society columns with considerable gossip, he broke and had gone temporarily insane. The hurt and betrayal of that one act had cut him deeply. Perhaps she’d done it in a bid for his attention. Cornelius would never know, but he’d retaliated by marrying for the second time himself to a woman he barely knew. His son had the comfort of a parent while the military occupied his time. Then he was off to France and later Russia.

  The sound of Mia delicately clearing her throat brought him out of his tortured thoughts. “You never said goodbye, never hinted you would come back to me.” Her eyes were downcast, the blonde arcs of her lashes fanning over her cheeks—the picture of demure femininity. But the faintest hint of chastisement clung to the words. Why? “It would have made everything... better. A goodbye, at least, would have told me things—we—were over.”

  At least they were at a place where they could talk about those events and perhaps gain closure of a sort. “I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know what would happen to me in the future... didn’t want you put into danger.” That was the truth. Blurting out that he’d fallen madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with her after three days would have sounded false and flippant, especially given the reasons they’d come together in the first place. And, she’d hated him during those days. He’d left in good faith that he could win her on his own merits. “England needed me.”

  But England had taken everything from him.

  “I see.” When Amelia raised her gaze and stared at him, ice sat in her eyes. “Perhaps I did too, but now we’ll never know, will we?” She stood, the very picture of a vengeful Valkyrie, her cheeks almost as red as the color of her dress.

  Cornelius scrambled to his feet despite his aching knee. “I beg your pardon.” Her moods were as volatile now as they were back then. “I didn’t mean to open fresh wounds.”

  “Some wounds never healed, Lord Winchester, and you’ve reminded me of that.” Her eyes shot green lightning, and in that moment, he’d never wanted her more, for when Amelia let emotion rule her, he could easily relate and counter. “There is a schedule of events in your bedchamber. I’m certain you know your way.”

  He gawked as her meaning dawned on him. “You gave me that same room?”

  “I did.” Her eyes dilated the longer she looked at him. Did that mean she, too, thought about that time they’d spent together, and that it affected her still? That was interesting. Perhaps there was a chance, however small. He merely needed to find it. “Serendipity I guess, for I didn’t know the viscount was your son.” Her voice sounded rushed as if she fought for control of herself.

  “I’m sure it’s not that haunted.” He offered a smile that she didn’t return. “I would like to spend time with you later if you don’t mind. I feel as if we haven’t talked about everything we need to if we are to make a fresh start.” There, he’d dropped his opening salvo. The next move was hers.

  Curiosity warred with fear in her expression. But why? He promised to find out. “I’m not certain we shall talk later. My time is spoken for the whole of the evening, but I trust you can find entertainment. You’re good at putting yourself ahead of others.”

  She swept from the room with her chin held high and her focus straight ahead, and now he was even more intrigued by her than before.

  Perhaps this Christmastide wouldn’t be so hideous after all. Cornelius grinned. He’d give her the space she needed, but soon the chase would be on, and this time, he’d learned from his mistakes.

  Chapter Five

  Amelia barely managed to escape the first evening of the house party before giving into the emotions besetting her. While her guests tarried in the drawing room after dinner, she took refuge in the kitchens. It was the one place no one would come looking for her, the one place she felt safe from the barrage of memories.

  Ignoring the puzzled and curious glances from the maids and footmen, she continued belowstairs and then ducked into the butler’s office. As soon as she’d sat upon one of the hard, wooden chairs in front of a battered oak desk that had belonged to her father in her childhood, Mr. Jessup arrived, his face wreathed in concern.

  “My lady, shouldn’t you be upstairs attending to your guests?” He set a bottle of champagne on the desktop and eyed her. “You’ve planned every sort of entertainment for them.”

  “I... I needed a few minutes away.” She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. What kind of woman, and a daughter of an earl at that, hid herself in the servants’ quarters instead of keeping a stiff upper lip while putting herself amidst a collection of carefully cultivated guests for the Christmastide season?

  One who has had the foundations of her existence pulled out from under her.

  “Ah.” Mr. Jessup slipped onto the chair beside her. “I have known you for years. Even before you fled to Trenton Park after your brother died.” As he paused, he clasped his hands in his lap. “Only once have I seen you at sixes and sevens.”

  Oh, dear Lord. Please don’t say
it.

  “If I recall correctly, it was when Lord Winchester was here for a Christmastide house party that same year.”

  He said it, damn the man’s eyes. “Yes.” She could barely force the word out from her tight throat. Why did the mention of the man’s name send a horde of butterflies into her belly?

  The butler held her gaze. His eyes were kind. “Now the marquess is here again.”

  “That’s the odd thing.” She straightened. “I could have sworn I didn’t invite him, but he produced an invitation written in my hand.”

  “Ah.” A bit of color crept along Mr. Jessup’s cheekbones. It was rather hot in the servants’ hall. “I take it he has brought unwelcome memories?”

  “Some, yes, but there are some memories that aren’t horrid.” And that was the problem. Actually, it was a big problem. From the moment he’d called her Mia to the second he’d appeared so defeated at the prospect of spending Christmastide alone, she’d once again found herself hooked. If the hunger she felt for him now was disconcerting, what would it grow into if he remained at the house party?

  For long moments the butler stared at her, his eyes assessing, his demeanor a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. “What is it that you fear by his presence? If you think he means you harm, by all means, let me handle the situation and evict him, but if there is something else regarding the marquess, perhaps you should examine that.”

  “Oh, you dear, dear man.” Amelia laid a hand on his arm. “How you always manage to look out for me.”

  He brightened at her praise. “I consider you like the daughter I never had, my lady. If that’s not too personal to admit. I want to see you happy.”

  “Life puts people in our paths who will help us on our journeys, I think, but no, Lord Winchester would never do me physical harm. It’s not the worry I carry.” She smiled, remembered herself and leaned back into her own space. “What is it I fear from Lord Winchester’s presence here?” Her smile slowly faded in a frown. “That... that...” She peered at Mr. Jessup, his face lined with care and curiosity, and she sighed. Indeed, he was as close to a father as she had since her own died. “I fear he’ll get into my blood and consume me like a fever.”

  Not even her most trusted staff members knew what had occurred as a result of her all-too-brief affair with Cornelius.

  “Is that such a bad thing? I don’t have much experience in those types of matters, but I always assumed that heat, that passion, was the greatest pinnacle one could achieve in a relationship.” He chuckled. “Or at least it is a good start.”

  “Well, part of that is true, but in this case it is not.”

  “How so?”

  She glanced at the door to make certain there was no one lurking. Of course, Mr. Jessup ran a tight ship and none of the staff would dare eavesdrop without having their position forfeit. “Lord Winchester’s loyalties are split, and he’s a marquess now. When I knew him, he wasn’t, and that made him more relatable.” She sighed. And... I did him a grave disservice years ago I’m not certain he or I can overcome once he finds out. Aloud, she said, “I don’t need his kind of complications. My life is finally settled.”

  “Is it, or is that what you keep telling yourself so that you won’t fall apart?”

  How was it possible the butler knew her better than she knew herself?

  When she said nothing, he continued. “Lady Amelia.” Mr. Jessup took one of her hands into his gloved palm. “Nothing needs deciding at once. Why don’t you enjoy the festivities? If he shows an interest in you, be cautious but shine from his attention. You need color in your cheeks.”

  “He’s been here a handful of hours and already I feel discombobulated.” Again, heat fired through her cheeks when she recalled her blatant and quite scandalous assessment of him as they’d talked in the parlor. “As if I don’t know myself anymore because he’s here.” It probably wasn’t a confession she needed to give a servant, but the urge to talk with someone was strong.

  “Anyone who can provoke a reaction from you all these years later must be someone of consequence. Therefore, you owe it to yourself to find out why. Yes?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes strong emotions lead one down a wrong path.”

  “Or a better one.” He squeezed her fingers. “I fear you’re making inroads into hiding yourself away from life because living it might hurt too much.”

  That was a fair assessment. Amelia raised her gaze to his. “My heart can’t take anymore,” she said in a barely-there voice.

  He patted her hand. “Our hearts can surprise us with their compacity to love... and forgive.”

  Good heavens, did he know or suspect? “My heart is quite sure in this matter.”

  The butler shrugged. “Where is the harm in flirting? And according to your schedule, you have parlor games tonight. Perhaps it’s just the thing to lift your spirits and rediscover why you admired the marquess in the first place.” He winked. “Why should the younger Miss Coventry have all the fun?”

  Amelia smiled. “How do you always know what to say that will see me calm?”

  “I’ve known you for many years.” He stood and picked up the bottle of champagne. “I must go. Your cousin has requested this, and I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

  “And I have games to organize.” She stood and then walked through the halls with him. “In an hour, bring up light refreshments and spirits. No doubt the company will be famished by then.”

  “Of course, my lady. Please don’t worry over things. I’m sure they’ll come out right in the end.” He winked again. It was such an odd thing for a butler to do. “And if they don’t, then I’m quite certain that is not the end of your story.”

  By the time Amelia arrived in the drawing room, a game of Blind Man’s Bluff was already in progress, and from the noise level, it had been going on for some time. Rebecca was the one blindfolded presently, and she was doing a bang-up job blatantly “exploring” one of the young men in order to guess his identity. Much laughter followed in her wake. At last, she blurted out the young gentleman’s name. Cheers erupted into the room from the watchers sitting in chairs arranged in a circle.

  “It’s this side of scandalous but harmless fun,” Charles said as she joined him at the side of the room.

  “So I can see.” She smiled at the young people’s antics. “It used to be a favorite game of mine when I was her age and a bit older.”

  He accepted a flute of bubbly champagne from Mr. Jessup with a nod. The butler melted away, but not without a speaking glance at her. After a deep drink, her cousin grinned. “Perhaps you should join the next round and see if you still favor it.”

  “I shouldn’t.” Excited chatter and laughter came from the guests playing the game. Rebecca was lost in conversation with the man she’d identified.

  Charles shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you might take pity on Winchester. He’s been coerced into playing to make up numbers.” He snorted. “Poor devil. He looks miserable.”

  A tiny thrill shot down her spine at the mention of the marquess’ name. She glanced at Cornelius. He did, indeed, seem as if he’d rather be anywhere else. Had it been his son who’d encouraged his participation? When he accidentally caught her eye, his silent plea for help thawed her annoyance at him from earlier as well as her confusion surrounding him. “Fine. One game, then I’d like to shepherd all these people upstairs to bed. We keep country hours here, and if I have to play hostess until well after midnight, I’ll be exhausted by Christmas.”

  “Good luck, Cousin. These are Londoners. It’ll take some time to change their routines.” Charles lifted his glass in salute to her. “Enjoy. And if you don’t, come find me, and we can get up a fresh scandal.”

  “I think not.” With a roll of her eyes, Amelia slipped into an open chair next to her niece. “Are you having a good time? You look exuberantly happy.”

  “Oh, yes.” Rebecca nodded. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed. “It’s so silly to watch everyone while they’re blindfolde
d. The men are especially bad at this game, and that makes it even funnier.”

  “Well, men are visual creatures. Take away that sense and they flounder.”

  One of the female guests, Lady Eaton, chose the next “blind man” from the guests assembled on the chairs. She was a widow and rumored to be on the prowl for her next husband. “Let’s see how Lord Winchester fares. I hope he’s better at this game than his son, who never did manage to guess anyone’s identity.” The black-haired widow approached him. She waved a pristine cravat in her hand.

  “I’d rather let someone else play,” he protested as he eyeballed the cravat like it was a poisonous snake.

  “Come now, my lord. It’s all in fun.” Sugary sweetness dripped from her words.

  “Yes, give it some stick, Father. You assume you’re above these games,” Edward, the young viscount, taunted with a grin. A few of the attendees around him voiced encouragement.

  “I never said that.” With a huff, Cornelius rose to his feet, giving Amelia the opportunity to look her fill. The powerful length of his body seemed to fill the space. Did any of the other ladies notice? “I said this isn’t the sort of thing that interests me. I would rather read.” His cane clattered to the floor. One of the ladies nearby moved it out of the way.

  Amelia looked at him with new respect. She’d hadn’t been aware he enjoyed reading for pleasure. But then, there’d not been time to learn anything about him aside from the secrets his body held when last they’d been together.