“I am grateful for the invitation, though I must confess I find it a little surprising.”
The older woman laughed and gestured for Amelia to take a seat on one of the sofas. “My son did mention your forwardness.”
Amelia bit her lip. “I’m sorry. It does appear as though I have a tendency to speak without thinking sometimes.”
“Oh, you need not apologize to me, dear. I find you quite delightful and refreshing. I can see why Coventry enjoys your company.”
The comment, accompanied by a welcoming smile, gave Amelia pause. She suddenly wondered what exactly Thomas had told his mother about her, or rather, how much.
Steeling herself, she watched as the duchess poured tea. Her curiosity continued to climb. Eventually, she had to ask, “Why didn’t you invite my sister?”
Nudging a teacup in Amelia’s direction, the dowager duchess said, “Because as charming as I find her, she is not the subject of my interest. You are.” When Amelia stared at her in amazement, the dowager duchess’s smile broadened. “You see, I can be forward too.”
Silenced by that comment, Amelia picked up her teacup and took a sip.
The dowager duchess looked at Amelia with assessing eyes. “The thing is that I find myself intrigued.”
“By me?”
Surely not.
The dowager duchess gave a slow and very deliberate nod. “Coventry has taken notice of you, and as his mother, I therefore feel it is my duty to evaluate you myself.”
Momentarily startled, Amelia wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry in response to such an outrageous opinion. Training her features to the best of her abilities, she spoke softly in an effort to come across calmer than she actually was. “If you imagine that he might be thinking of courting me, then you are mistaken. Your son and I are friends, Your Grace. Nothing more.”
The dowager duchess sipped her tea while eyeing Amelia over the brim of her cup. Returning the fine piece of Wedgwood porcelain to the table, she simply said, “We will see about that.”
Oddly perturbed by the comment and the thought of the poor woman hoping for something that would not be, Amelia allowed her to turn to other subjects of conversation. When the lady asked about her past, she held nothing back as she spoke of the difficult life she’d led in St. Giles and how Mayfair posed an entirely different challenge.
“The minuet is proving to be particularly difficult,” she said when they started discussing ballroom etiquette. “My feet always feel as though they’re moving in the wrong direction when I dance it.”
“I have seen you dance it several times now, and in my opinion you do not do it too badly.”
Amelia laughed. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
“As long as you continue to practice daily, you will master it eventually.”
Appreciating the confidence with which she spoke, Amelia reached for a biscuit. She was just about to bite into it when a slight movement off to one side caught the corner of her eye. She glanced toward it, pausing at the sight of a small face peeking out at them from behind the doorjamb. His eyes were beautiful—a rich chocolate color, wide with interest.
Forgetting that she was sitting in a formal parlor with a dowager duchess, Amelia set her biscuit aside and placed her hands over her eyes. Carefully, she parted them just enough to meet the boy’s gaze before covering her eyes again. She repeated the gesture, noting that more of his face had come into view—a handsome mouth that failed to smile even as he joined in her game.
For the next several minutes, Amelia covered and uncovered her eyes while the boy stepped further into the room. When he was well inside the doorway, she dropped her hands to her lap and smiled. He averted his gaze and shifted from foot to foot, his body twisting as though he was thinking of fleeing. So rather than drawing too much attention to him, she focused on the paper that stuck out of his pocket.
“What do you have there?” she asked, pointing to the rolled-up sheet.
His gaze slid sideways, and Amelia became suddenly aware of the dowager duchess again. The lady hadn’t spoken a word since the boy’s arrival, and Amelia chose to ignore her now, in favor of encouraging him to speak. Instead, he silently took the paper she’d pointed to out of his pocket and stepped closer still. He handed it to her without a word, and she unrolled it to find a stunning display of color. It didn’t look like anything in particular, but that didn’t make it less beautiful.
“You’re a true artist,” she murmured, studying the way that splashes of yellow and orange mixed with blues and greens. “To capture a feeling is no easy task, but this . . . this makes me think of warmth and happiness, of the sun rising above the world. It’s beautiful, and you should be very proud.”
The boy, all serious and terribly quiet, glanced at the dowager duchess once more, and so did Amelia this time. She looked at the woman who’d easily smiled and laughed just moments before. Her eyes now gleamed with a watery sheen and her lips had begun to tremble.
“My grandson,” she managed to say with a hoarse whisper. “His name is Jeremy.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Jeremy,” Amelia said, returning her attention to the child. His eyes were dark like his father’s, but his hair . . . She felt her chest constrict as she gazed at the trait that he must have gotten from his mother.
Forcing aside the ugly feelings of jealousy that threatened, Amelia patted the seat beside her and asked, “Will you join me?”
Jeremy seemed to consider. Eventually, he drew closer and claimed the spot. Still, he did not smile or show any other hint of emotion. Instead, he crossed his arms and began swinging his legs back and forth. Amelia considered him more closely, aware that there was something peculiar about his behavior that reminded her of Bethany.
She picked up the tray with biscuits and offered it to him. “Would you like one?”
When he shook his head, she set the tray down. She glanced at the dowager duchess who looked increasingly distraught for some odd reason. “Are you all right?” Amelia quietly asked her.
The dowager duchess responded with a nod. Swiftly, she stood, paused, looked at Amelia and Jeremy, then turned away while muttering a hasty, “If you will please excuse me for a moment.”
Amelia stared after her. Everything about this visit seemed strange. Deciding that nothing she’d learned so far would help her through it, she chose to let her instinct guide her and addressed Jeremy once again. “Do you like animals?”
He stilled beside her. A moment passed, and then he nodded.
“Dogs?”
He nodded again.
“Do you own one by any chance?”
A shake of his head and she had her answer.
The painting he’d made caught her eye once more. Jeremy might be a quiet introvert, but his art provided an insight to great imagination. She pondered that for a second—the do’s and don’ts of the idea taking shape in her head. She was in a duke’s home, after all—a guest invited to tea. And yet . . . Jeremy clearly needed some sort of amusement. She longed to make him smile and considered the way in which Raphe had sometimes succeeded in getting Bethany to do that.
So she asked him plainly, “Would you like to play a game?”
For a long while, he said nothing, and then he finally spoke his first word to her.
“Yes.”
When Thomas arrived home from parliament, he instantly knew that something was amiss. For one thing, his butler wasn’t there to greet him at the door. This had never happened before. Not during the day. Thomas took off his hat and removed his gloves, placing both on the foyer table. And then he became aware of laughter—a child’s laughter. He shook his head. It wasn’t possible.
As he headed down the hallway that led toward the parlor, he saw his mother and his butler standing outside the door looking into the room like a pair of secretive spectators. “What—”
“Shh!” His mother turned to him with a finger pressed to her lips. She looked overly emotional—possibly as if she’d been crying.<
br />
What the devil?
Respecting her wish for silence, he eased his pace and stepped forward with a soft tread. Another bit of laughter and what sounded like . . . neighing? Thomas frowned. None of it made any sense until the butler moved aside so he had room to observe the scene for himself.
His mouth dropped open, not so much because of the overturned tray of biscuits that littered a very expensive carpet, but because of Lady Amelia. She was crawling about on her hands and knees, heedless of what that might do to her gown, and with Jeremy riding upon her back as if she were a pony. Whinnying, she plodded about. A sudden shake of her body made Jeremy laugh, and whenever she ducked down or rose up a little, he howled with amusement. And in that moment, Thomas felt his heart swell as warmth cascaded through him. He’d never seen Jeremy this animated before. It was little wonder that his mother appeared to be overcome.
Amelia reared to one side and then turned about while Jeremy clung to the back of her gown. A laugh broke from her lips, as well. Her delight was undeniable until she spun toward the door, her eyes settling on the feet that stood there. Freezing, she looked up at her onlookers from behind a few locks of unpinned hair. She blew at the locks with charming abandonment. Her cheeks were bright from exertion, her eyes conveying every piece of kindness that filled her heart to overflowing.
“Jeremy,” she said. “I think it’s time for us to stop for a moment.”
The boy’s face fell. His mouth twisted and he crossed his arms, but he didn’t move or speak. Thomas stepped toward him. “Jeremy,” he told him gently, “you must climb down from Lady Amelia’s back so she can get up.” The boy’s eyes did not make contact. As usual, it was as if he wasn’t hearing what was being said. “Jeremy,” Thomas tried again, “if you do not climb down, I will have to pick you up.”
Jeremy jerked his head just enough to convey his displeasure. He began twisting from side to side, eyes fixed on the carpet. “No,” he muttered. “No, no, no.”
“I mean it,” Thomas told him sternly. Jeremy didn’t answer. Instead, he unfolded his arms and swung his fists hard. Thomas rushed forward, but before he could reach Jeremy, the child had managed to hit Amelia in the back of the head.
“Ow!”
“Oh no!” he heard his mother exclaim as he wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s body and lifted him up and away from Amelia.
“No, no, no!” Jeremy chanted, legs kicking, while Thomas walked from the room and climbed the stairs to the nursery. There, he lowered himself to the floor and held on tight while Jeremy cried in his arms.
“Does this happen often?” Amelia asked the dowager duchess as she followed her through the house to the garden. The day was warm and pleasant, the fragrant scent of jasmine and roses so enticing Amelia could not resist taking a closer look at the flowers. Some birds twittered from a nearby tree, adding to the charm of the overall experience.
“Only when Jeremy gets overly excited. He . . . is not spoiled, you know. The reaction he had in there was not simply on account of him being deprived the fun he was having.” The dowager duchess sighed. “It is not so simple, and perhaps I was wrong to invite you here and to show you. Coventry is bound to have a few choice words with me later.”
“Because he wouldn’t want me to know that he has a son who is . . . slightly different from other children?” When the dowager duchess’s eyes filled with pain, Amelia placed her hand on her arm in comfort.
“He believes it is his responsibility to protect Jeremy before all else.”
“And rightfully so,” Amelia said as they began a slow walk. “The world can be incredibly cruel.” She knew that firsthand. Considering how hurt she had been as an adult by a few unkind words, she couldn’t imagine what it might do to a little boy.
“It is not that Coventry does not trust you, but you have to understand that this is his closest kept secret. It is in his nature to protect it as well as he can.”
“Then he may indeed consider my coming here a betrayal.”
“A necessary one, I should think,” the dowager duchess said with a sad little smile. She glanced at Amelia as they followed a path leading back to the terrace.
Her tone caught Amelia’s attention. “How do you mean?”
“Only that I want him to be happy and that I hope my actions today will accomplish that in the end.”
Her cryptic remark gave Amelia pause, but she had no time to analyze it in detail since Coventry returned at that same moment, eating up the distance between them with a solid stride. He reached them in under five seconds.
“Mama.” His eyes were full of seriousness. “Might I speak with Lady Amelia in private?”
“Of course. I need to remove a few dry petals from some of those flowers over there anyway.”
Amelia watched her walk away and instantly wished she could stay by her side. Instead, she now had to face the tall presence of the man who stood before her. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry or high-handed either, which was of some relief since she was quite tired of being annoyed with him, as well. Because although it still hurt to have him push her away, she understood his reason for doing so better now, even though she would have to make him understand how unnecessary it had been.
“Your mother was right to bring me here,” she said. One dark eyebrow rose into a pointed arch. “And you were mistaken when you decided to treat Jeremy as if there is something wrong with him.”
“He is not like other boys, Amelia.”
“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t mean that he should be hidden away in this house. What will that teach him?”
Sighing, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I do not know. You saw the way he reacted in there. Imagine what would happen if he had such an episode out in public. He would be ridiculed—laughed at.”
“By some, I’ll grant you that. But I would never be that cruel. Nor would Huntley or Gabriella or Juliette. Surely you know that.” He nodded a little but did not look entirely convinced, so she decided to be as candid as possible. “The truth is, I am not completely unfamiliar with his kind of behavior.”
His eyes sharpened with interest. “What do you mean?”
“My sister, Bethany, had trouble relating to other people’s emotions. She often seemed anxious, would remove herself to a corner and simply stand there swaying back and forth until someone hugged her. It wasn’t easy, taking care of her and always worrying about the next episode, so I completely understand what you’re going through, Coventry, as do my siblings.”
“I . . . I had no idea.”
“There was no reason for me to mention it until now.”
Dropping his gaze, he shifted his feet, then looked at her again with a stricken expression that tore at her heart. “Did . . . I mean . . . I know Bethany died, and I cannot help but wonder if perhaps . . . if perhaps . . .” He shook his head and then covered his eyes with his hands, concealing his dread from her view.
Amelia’s heart went out to him. “She caught pneumonia one winter and never recovered. Her death, as awful as it was, had nothing to do with her state of mind.”
The sigh of relief that escaped him was shaky. “I see.” He swallowed and looked about before addressing her once again. “You are right. My mother did well to invite you here today. Not only to meet Jeremy, but because it forces us to address the tension between us. I have been trying to think of what to say to you next and have found nothing fitting.”
“Is that why your face looks a little bit bluer than yesterday?”
His mouth tilted with the hint of a mischievous smile. “Perhaps.”
“So you have ignored my advice and gone back to St. Giles?”
“Of course not.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Hmm . . . perhaps I should practice more?”
“No. Don’t you dare. I appreciate your honesty.” She started toward the terrace, and he fell into step beside her. On the opposite side of the lawn his mother appeared to be g
iving a shrub a great deal of attention. “Now it is my turn.” This wasn’t going to be easy, but she felt she owed him an explanation for her churlish behavior. “The fact of the matter is that I wanted you to kiss me, Coventry, and when you did, it was the most wonderful thing I’d ever experienced in my life. But then you had to go and ruin it with apologies. You took something special and turned it into this terrible, regrettable mistake.”
“I acted on instinct,” he explained, “and I am sorry for it. Not for the kiss, but for the carelessness with which I treated you after the kiss. You deserve better from me, Amelia.” Reaching the terrace, he turned to face her. His hand found hers, his thumb gently stroking her palm while he leaned a bit closer. A shiver tickled her insides. Her breath caught in her throat. “Perhaps I ought to tell you how much you affect me?”
Was it possible for a pair of stays to tighten on their own accord? Amelia didn’t know. In fact, she could barely think as his thumb stroked a path to her wrist. It settled there, pressing against her pulse. “I, er . . . ah . . . I affect you?” She spoke with a squeak, her nerves completely frayed by the prospect of him provoking her so intensely while his mother remained but a short distance away.
“More than you can possibly imagine.” There was a decadent depth to his voice that made her skin tremble. His thumbnail scraped against her palm, stirring a slow delicious ache somewhere deep down inside. “Keeping my distance from you—not acting rashly—has taken tremendous restraint. But . . .” He drew his hand away and stepped back. “Restraint is what is required if we are to avoid a scandal and preserve your reputation.”
Dazed by his need for control in her presence, Amelia barely managed a nod. “Of course.”
“Not to mention that your brother will not be pleased to find you compromised by the man who swore to protect you. I cannot let him down. To do so would make me no better than . . .” He clamped his mouth shut with a brusqueness that hinted at anger. “We must keep a respectable distance. This cannot happen again.”
The Duke of Her Desire: Diamonds in the Rough Page 19
