A Taste of Desire(119)

Thomas. The sound of his name burned her ears; memories of him tore at her weak and battered heart. “I always believed you loved Thomas more than you did me.”

Her father looked stricken in the ensuing silence. Slowly, he raised his hand to gently cup her cheek. “If you fail to believe anything else I say, believe me when I say I love you above all others.” He then pulled her close, and she stood pliant as he enfolded her into his arms. It had been so long since he’d held her like this. Soon, she was returning his embrace, holding onto him tighter as time progressed.

A minute later, he drew back and held her at arm’s length. “I will endeavor to make it up to you. All of it.”

Amelia smiled tremulously. “I’d rather we start fresh.”

Pulling her to him again in a brief hug, he said, “A fresh start it will be.”

What Amelia wouldn’t give to hear those same words from Thomas.





Chapter 31



Thomas should have breathed a sigh of relief when he crossed the threshold of Stoneridge Hall; instead he felt the emptiness of knowing Amelia was gone.

It had been three weeks and four days since he’d seen her. Midnight would add yet another day to the crawling total.

Harry had taken her home, back to Fountain Crest. His letter informing Thomas of this had arrived at his residence in London three days before. It was a timely departure as his mother’s winter ball was set for this evening. At least he wouldn’t have to see her.

“Thomas, you are late,” his mother said as she coasted toward him, her chartreuse taffeta and tulle gown floating about her. She kissed his cheek in the manner of a mother affectionately admonishing her offspring.

“Good evening, Mother.” He wanted to protest he wasn’t that late. In fact—he glanced around—he appeared to be one of the first people there.

“I have so many little things to tend to before the guests begin to arrive and every one of the servants is occupied. Dear, would you mind terribly if I asked you to check about the place for the punch bowl. I’ve mislaid it somewhere, I simply cannot remember where. Oh, and you can store your coat in there. I have no idea where all the footmen could have gone.”

Thomas glanced around, noting the frenzy of activity in the brightly lit Stoneridge Hall. It appeared his mother had emptied the biggest local candle shop of its inventory.

“You might want to start with the library. I believe I went in there earlier for some reason or another.” She finished with a motherly pat on his hand, before turning and hurrying toward the ballroom.

With his great coat draped over his forearm, Thomas strode down the corridor to the library. It too was brightly lit although the curtains were closed. He walked over to the brown leather armchair. His coat fell to the floor at the same time his mouth fell open in dull surprise.

A wide-eyed Amelia stared at him from the sofa. She looked ravishing in a lavender gown, the neckline leaving an expansive amount of creamy skin on display. And that was all it took after over three long weeks to make him hard. And then angry with her, but more with himself for his lack of control.

“Thomas.” She whispered his name like a prayer come true.

His heart slammed against his chest. “I was told you were gone,” he said coldly, as he bent and scooped his coat from the floor.

The light in her eyes dimmed. “I can’t imagine who would have told you such a thing,” she said, coming to her feet.

“Your father.” And idiot that he was, he’d believed him. He should have known. Damn, he should have known. Harry Bertram had proven to be a premier manipulator.

“By any chance, have you seen my mother’s punch bowl?”

Amelia shook her head, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

You might want to start with the library. I believe I went in there earlier for some reason or another.

And it appeared his mother was in line to assume his mantle should Harry ever relinquish it.

“Then my business here is done.” He bowed deeply and turned to go.

“Thomas, please. May I speak with you?” He’d heard Amelia plead but once. He discovered the second time made it all that harder to deny her.

He halted but kept his back to her. While his traitorous heart urged him to go to her, his pride willed him to continue on his way. He’d told her he loved her and she’d said nothing. His pride—as always—won the battle. At the door, he heard a muffled noise that sounded like a sob. But that was impossible because Amelia never cried. Never allowed herself to give in to the weakness of tears.