The expression on Lord Lambert’s face when he talked about his Arabian horses exhibited a deep affection for his animals. Lord Flanders had a similar look when he discussed his prize flowers. Amanda couldn’t imagine either of these kindly gentlemen doing something so heinous. Nor did she want to believe that Stanwich or Marquit was capable of anything so repulsive either.
But one of them had to be guilty. She didn’t want to consider what it would mean if it wasn’t one of them.
While Amanda waited for Hadleigh and Harry to join her, her heart raced in anticipation. Although she hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the sound of any of the men’s voices, Harry no doubt knew what he was listening for. And Hadleigh had been much more aggressive when he brought up the topic of each man’s shipping ventures. She only hoped he hadn’t exposed his intent when he asked one or two very pointed questions, but none of the men reacted in the least when he mentioned an interest in shipping, and the Calliope Anne in particular.
She prayed she hadn’t missed their reaction. Just as she prayed that this nightmare was almost over. And it would be. As soon as Harry identified the villain. Then, they could inform the authorities, set a trap that would shut down the trafficking, and put the culprit behind bars for the rest of his life.
Amanda didn’t want to think that they were back to the beginning. She wasn’t sure she was brave enough to live with this nightmare any longer.
But the moment the door opened and Harry walked into the room, she knew that was what she’d have to do.
“Harry?” she asked, praying the expression on her brother’s face didn’t spell the disaster she saw. But it did, and his words confirmed it.
“None of them was the earl.”
CHAPTER 16
Amanda sat on a fringed ottoman in Hadleigh’s study and stared at the paisley pattern in the burgundy carpet while Harry and His Grace discussed what their next steps should be.
“Don’t worry, Amanda,” Harry said. “We’ll think of something.”
“Of course you will,” she answered, trying to put up a brave front. But Amanda knew they were fooling themselves if they thought they could come up with an idea to ferret out the earl. Harry could hardly walk around in Society and talk to every earl. He’d be dead before the end of the first evening.
What upset her the most, though, was the realization that every risk she’d taken for months had been for nothing.
Before she could catch it, a lone tear spilled from one eye and ran down her cheek.
“Don’t cry, Amanda,” Hadleigh said, coming to kneel beside her on the plush carpet. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her gently against him.
“I can’t help it,” she whispered. “I was so sure.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do now?”
“We’re going to think on it, then discuss our options again tomorrow.”
Amanda drew away, and for the first time noticed that her brother had left the room. “Is Harry all right?” she asked.
“Harry’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I’m fine. I’m just disappointed.”
Hadleigh pressed her head against his shoulder. She went willingly.
“You have every right to be disappointed. You’ve been through a great deal. First with your brother, then getting shot.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very brave lady?”
She attempted to smile. “I’ve been called several things, Your Grace, such as outspoken, disrespectful, and opinionated, but I don’t think courageous was one of the terms used.”
A chuckle rumbled inside his chest. “At least no one said you were obdurate.”
She laughed. “I did call you obdurate, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. As well as several other very unflattering names.” He placed his finger beneath her chin and lifted until her gaze locked with his. “Do you still consider me obdurate, Amanda?”
She smiled. “Oh, yes, Your Grace. It’s one of your characteristics I admire most.”
He answered her smile with one of his own, then his expression softened, and he lowered his head and kissed her.
Amanda met the pressure of his lips against hers with an eagerness that surprised her. She was desperate to experience the physical emotions his kisses inspired. Her nights were filled with dreams of him doing just this, and of her body reacting exactly as it was reacting right now.
She turned into him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
His kisses deepened and his mouth opened atop hers.
She met his advances with a fervor hindered only by her wound. She’d been through so much. Not just tonight, but for months. Ever since the night Harry had been beaten and nearly died.
She’d experienced a mind-numbing fear every time she went to the docks alone. Heart-racing terror each time she’d broken into another shipping office. And something even more terrifying the night she was shot, to say nothing of the long, lonely hours that followed, when she thought she might die before she was able to help Harry.
She wanted a release from the pent-up emotions she hadn’t come to terms with yet. She wanted to experience the heights to which Hadleigh would take her.
He kissed her with a hunger that promised of places she never imagined existed.
Swirling emotions erupted within her, heating her blood, causing a raging fire to build low in her body. She knew nothing could extinguish it except…
And that’s exactly what she wanted. She wanted to experience that ultimate encounter with Hadleigh. She wanted to give her body to him, because he already possessed her heart.
His hands moved over her, blazing fiery trails wherever he touched her.
Her breathing came in ragged gasps, as if he’d stolen the air from her body and she needed him to survive.
“Hadleigh,” she whispered when he pressed kisses to her neck, then to the tops of her breasts. “Love me.” She raked her fingers through his hair, pushing at him until his mouth found the center of her exposed breast. “Yes,” she moaned, “make love to me.”
He lifted his head and locked his gaze with hers. His eyes blazed black with passion, his breaths came as ragged as hers.
“Are you sure?” He waited for her answer.
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
He lowered his head and kissed her again, then rose and locked the door.
They helped each other undress, then he kissed her again when she lay on the chaise longue.
“Are you healed enough?” he asked as his mouth began its ministrations to parts of her body she didn’t know would cause her to react like she did.
“Yes. Oh, yes!”
He smiled down at her, then began the journey that would change the rest of her life.
. . .
Sterling sat behind his desk in the large wing chair that had been his father’s and watched the sun slowly rise in the sky. He propped his feet atop the corner of the desk and leaned back in his chair in the most un-duke-like appearance imaginable.
He didn’t feel like a duke at the moment. He felt human. He felt as if he’d fallen from his lofty pedestal last night and didn’t ever want to climb back up.
If he wanted to play the lordly duke, as he sometimes did, he could tell himself that what happened last night wouldn’t have any lasting consequences, unless Amanda conceived. Then, of course, he would have to marry her. But that isn’t the way he would ever think of the passion they’d shared. He wouldn’t ever feel that he’d been forced to marry Amanda. He wanted to marry her.
Sterling dropped his feet to the floor and pushed himself vertical. Yes, he wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be a part of his life, to be the mother of his children, to share his bed every night and wake up at his side every morning.
When had this happened?
How had this happened?
He paced the floor from one side of the room to the other. Oh, he’d known his feelings for her had ch
anged. Instead of thinking of her as a thorn in his side as he’d always considered her, she’d turned into someone he wanted at his side. Knowing that he could have lost her when she was shot was a defining moment. Being forced to face a future without her in it caused him to look at everything differently. He was compelled to admit that he wanted her in his life.
And, after what happened last night, he was sure she wanted the same thing.
That thought brought his pacing to an abrupt halt. When had Amanda ever responded as everyone expected her to? When had she ever done what he anticipated she’d do?
Never.
He made his way to the door with determined footsteps. He stomped across the foyer like a man on a mission—for he was.
He took the stairs two at a time, knowing that he needed to confront her with the facts before she reached any conclusions of her own. And the facts were that they would marry. After what had happened last night, there was no other course for them to take.
When he reached her room, he knocked softly, then turned the knob when she bid him enter.
She was up, but sitting in a chair beside the window. She was beautiful. No, he amended, taking a closer look at her. She was radiant.
Nellie was there, but she scurried from the room when he gave her a look of dismissal.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said when they were alone.
A rush of heat swirled in the pit of his stomach, then unsteadied his limbs when he noticed the blush to her cheeks.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “I think,” he said, taking her hand in his, “that after last night, we have progressed beyond Your Grace. My name is Sterling.”
“Yes, I know,” she said with a smile. “I’ve known your name for some time.”
Sterling took comfort from her words, from the smile on her face, from her calm demeanor. Maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d feared. Maybe Amanda already realized what their actions last night precipitated. The relief he experienced caused him a moment of lightheartedness.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m glad you came. We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”
Her cheeks darkened even more. “This isn’t easy for me to discuss,” she continued, “so I’d appreciate it if you allowed me to speak first.”
“Very well.”
Her gaze lowered to their twined fingers. “First, I want to thank you for last night. I know you probably have regrets about what happened, but I want to assure you, I have none.” She swallowed. “It was immeasurably marvelous, Had— Sterling.”
“I feel the same, Amanda.”
A shy smile covered her face, the kind of smile that comes from innocence. This was the first time he noticed how inexperienced she truly was. Perhaps her bravado gave her the appearance of being more experienced in worldly matters. But he knew she wasn’t. He knew he’d been her first.
“I’m not sure when this happened, but my feelings for you have altered over the past months. I’ve seen a different side of you than I’ve ever seen before.”
He couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping. “You saw a side of me no other female in Society has seen before.”
She giggled. “Yes, that too. Which is why I want you to know that I wouldn’t undo what happened last night if I had a dozen chances to change the outcome.”
“Even if you find yourself carrying my child?”
His words stopped her.
“I…I, uh,…I doubt that happened, Your Grace. If it did,” she continued, but only after several attempts at finding the words. “If it did, we’d, of course, have to…to reevaluate how to proceed.”
“Reevaluate? Are you saying that our actions last night don’t dictate what we need to do?”
She looked surprised. Truly surprised. “Oh, Your Grace.” She pulled her fingers from his grasp.
“Sterling. You will call me Sterling.”
“Yes. I forgot. Yes, Sterling.”
She rose from her chair as if she needed to escape his nearness. When she reached the far window, she turned.
“Sterling, if you will stop a moment to think without allowing your emotions to take control—”
“I assure you, my lady—”
“Amanda. Then you must call me Amanda.”
“Yes. I assure you Amanda, I am not thinking with my emotions.”
“But you are. And worse than that, you’ve come up with a solution that will affect both of us for the rest of our lives without thinking I might oppose it.”
He thought he could remain calm and rational, but failed. His temper soon took over. “How can you oppose something as important as this?”
“I oppose it because we do not suit.”
He looked to find any indication that she wasn’t serious, but nothing indicated that she was anything but. “We seemed to suit last night. Remarkably well, in fact.”
She appeared shocked.
“That was completely uncalled for, Your Grace.”
“Sterling.”
She waved her hand through the air. “Whatever.” She faced him as if she intended to do battle.
He’d seen that look before. He’d faced that indomitable strength before, and hadn’t always come out the victor. “Would you care to explain why you don’t think we are suited to one another?”
“If you weren’t thinking with the…ah…passionate side of your nature, Sterling, the reasons would be apparent to you.”
“And they are?”
“The main reason, the most obvious to everyone is that you are…uh…”
“Yes?”
“You are…”
Sterling took a step toward her. “Are you having trouble thinking of a reason, Amanda, or trouble saying the word? I won’t be offended, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, it’s just that…that…”
“Just say it!” he said louder than he’d intended.
“You are perfect!”
He stumbled back a step. “I’m what?”
“You’re perfect. And I’m not!”
Sterling stared at her for several disbelieving seconds, then walked back to the chair he’d vacated. He had to think. He needed time to calm himself.
He pointed to the chair beside him. “Sit.”
Amanda slowly walked to her chair. She sat with her hands folded in her lap.
“What do you mean by saying that I’m perfect, and you’re not? I’m far from perfect.”
“I know that,” she said with a slight grin that lifted the corners of her mouth. “It’s the rest of the world that thinks you’re perfect. And even you think so, at least a great part of the time.”
She paused, and he leaned back in his chair. He waited for her to continue.
“Don’t you see? You may think we suit now, especially after what happened last night, but how will you feel when what we did becomes routine. Or boring?”
He sat up. “Let me assure you, Amanda. What we did last night will never become commonplace. Nor will it ever be boring.”
“You don’t know that,” she argued.
“I know for a fact that it will not.”
“How can you know?”
“Because I have no intention of allowing life behind our bedroom door to become boring.”
Although her cheeks turned a deep rose, she tilted her head and stared at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.
That thought pleased him.
“Now,” he said, as he focused on the serious expression on her face. “Let’s get to the real reason behind why you believe we will not suit. Because it’s not my perfection that concerns you. It’s you.”
She bolted to her feet. “Of course it’s me,” she said, her defiance evident. “Why should I think that just because we shared a few simple kisses, and…and did what we did last night, that your attitude toward me has changed? You have always considered me a thorn in your side. Always
thought of me as outspoken. Accused me of not knowing my place.”
“Perhaps I’ve changed. Perhaps I’ve accepted those unique qualities in you. Perhaps now I like having you as a thorn in my side,” he argued. “And perhaps I don’t mind if you are outspoken. Perhaps I even appreciate your candid honesty.”
“That’s a lie. My candid honesty will frustrate you until you’ll want to throttle me.”
He smiled. “I have more self-control than to ever throttle you. Perfect dukes do not throttle anyone.”
She didn’t return his smile so he continued. “Perhaps I finally understand that you always knew your place. I was the one who didn’t realize that your place was at my side.”
She stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.
“What are you saying?” she asked, her trembling voice matching her stunned expression.
“I’m saying that I think we should—”
She held up her hand. “No! Don’t say it. Don’t say the word both of us will have trouble forgetting you’d said.”
“Not saying it won’t erase the fact that it needs to be spoken. That I’m obligated to say it.”
“Oh, yes. Obligated. In your perfect world that’s what the perfect duke would say to the woman he’d just deflowered.”
“Deflowered? What an archaic term. There are other words Society would use to explain what happened to you. The one you will hear most often is ruined. I ruined you last night, Amanda. I ruined you for marriage to any other man.”
“That’s ridiculous. You didn’t ruin me. You couldn’t ruin me—because I wasn’t saving myself for anyone else.”
The second that statement was out of her mouth, her features changed to alarm. To horror.
“Does that mean you were saving yourself for me?”
“Of…Of course not,” she stammered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“That’s the second time you said I was being ridiculous. ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’.”
“Do not quote Shakespeare to me. He has nothing to do with what happened, or with your ridicu—” She stopped. “Your preposterous assumption.”
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