A Taste of Desire(18)
“Father there must be someone—anyone else—whom you could prevail upon so I may work this ridiculous punishment off.” Never before had she pled for leniency, but the circumstances demanded she make an exception.
Her father’s denial came with a hard shake of his head, as final and definitive as a judge bringing down his gavel. Inhaling a restorative breath, Amelia subsided right into the straight-backed chair. Arrowing a glare at the man seated next to her, she noted the barely contained look of satisfaction in his eyes. The urge to snatch up the marble weight from her father’s desk and smash it repeatedly against his skull had her fisting her hands in her lap and clenching her jaw tightly enough to grind her back teeth into enamel dust.
“At Lady Stanton’s ball, you knew that entire time,” she said, her voice fierce and barely above a whisper. While she’d endured his touch and suffered his odious presence, he’d been relishing the prospect of soon having her at the crook of his finger.
Her father’s gaze darted between them, his brow pleated, his expression perplexed. The viscount did not so much as blink at her accusation. “You give me far too much credit. I don’t believe anyone has ever called me a soothsayer. No, I was more than happy to take up the ribbons your father offered.”
“Ribbons? Ribbons! Are you comparing me to an animal—a horse?” Amelia clutched the arm of the chair with white knuckles.
“Never,” he replied too quickly. “I meant no umbrage by that. Please forgive my ill use of that word, but this is what happens when one runs a horse breeding operation.” He sent the marquess a small self-deprecating smile. In turn, her father beamed at the man as if he were the Savior sent down to restore earth to its natural order.
“I will have you know that Thomas initially turned down my request, so I am grateful he has reconsidered.” Her father said it as if it meant something. As if she should also be oh so grateful for such a magnanimous gesture on the viscount’s part.
Amelia yanked her gaze away, refusing to look at the blasted man, to watch the smirk lurking behind his feigned look of innocence. His reference had not been a metaphorical slip of the tongue. He did not intend to put her to work; he meant to break her just as one would do a fractious mount.
Never.
“How terribly considerate of him,” she said in a tone drenched in sarcasm.
“We will return home in three days, and next month you will go to Devon.”
Four whole months with the detestable man. While the knowledge caused her belly to clench in rebellion, Amelia sat erect, her mouth pursed in a tight-lipped, contentious line.
“If you have nothing else to say, Amelia, you may take your leave.” With those words, her father dismissed her, much in the same manner as he always did. His attention withdrawn before she had barely risen from her seat.
She couldn’t get out of there quickly enough, but tempered her strides so as not to appear like some cowed and beaten figure fresh from a sound trouncing. Just as she grasped the knob of the door in her hand, she heard him, his voice low and as benign as a declaration of war. “Lady Amelia, I look forward to your arrival in the coming month.”
Her step faltered. She had to forcibly resist the urge to turn and confront him. To engage him in a war of words would be pointless. Instinct told her it would be best she save her energies for the battles that undoubtedly lay ahead. Amelia glided through the doorway without looking back.
“She is not happy.” Harry asserted the obvious upon his daughter’s exit.
“I believe that is why it’s called punishment. It’s not expected to be pleasant.” Thomas’s dry response came with a casual lift of his shoulders.
“Yes, but when Amelia is not happy, usually neither are those around her.”
Thomas’s mouth curved at one end. “That might indeed be the case in her dealings with others; however, I can assure you, any misery that befalls her will not affect me whatsoever.” He’d barely reached his maturity the last time a woman had caused him emotional distress. And the day some spoilt, snake-tongued brat caused him to lose even a minute of sleep would be the day he’d give up his viscountcy.
“That is why I asked you. I knew if anyone could control her, you could. Unfortunately, since her mother’s death, I have allowed her too free a hand when a firm one was required.”
The warning bell didn’t chime, it created a deafening cacophony in his ears. “Harry, I hope you’re not taking my change of heart as an indication of interest in your daughter.” Well, certainly not an honorable or genuine interest.