A Taste of Desire(43)

If she had people she considered friends—and that was very much in doubt—who ceased to have anything to do with her, it was because of her surly disposition, not because a lack of funds had suddenly deemed her unworthy of their company. Her father had saved his family from certain financial ruin.

“My heart goes out to your father. God help me should I have a daughter like you.” Contempt laced his every word.

Amelia’s body stiffened on a softly indrawn breath. A look of some indiscernible emotion flashed across her face as she stood motionless, her eyes unblinking.

“When he returns, I’ll be certain to give him your condolences. On the other hand, since you do see him more frequently than I, perhaps you can offer them yourself.” With that, she turned, lifted her skirts, and calmly exited the study.

Thomas made no attempt to stop her. Further conversation might just end in a full-scale war. Raking an unsteady hand through his hair, he slumped back to rest on the edge of the desk, a dull ache radiating in his chest.





Chapter 12



The longcase clock in the hall announced the top of the hour with eight strident chimes just as Amelia entered the study the day following. She expelled a small sigh of relief when a quick scan of the room revealed that she was indeed alone.

“I see you managed to arrive on time,” the viscount drawled from behind her, his voice containing no residue of displeasure from yesterday’s unpropitious ending.

Or had been alone.

Amelia turned her head to find him framed in the doorway. He looked remarkably rested—and wretchedly handsome. Never had brown tweed and camel wool had a more strikingly masculine form to cover. Her heart gave a tiny flutter.

“What did you expect? I’ve heard you flog your servants. I like my back unmarred thank you very much,” she replied crisply before taking a seat at her desk. If he could act as if they were at their acrimonious normalcy, as if the kiss had not occurred, so certainly could she.

“Oh, I wouldn’t flog you. I’d paddle your bare behind.”

A gasp escaped her lips as her gaze flew to his. Amusement danced in his eyes, but he looked perfectly capable of carrying out such a punishment.

“You my lord, are the most—”

“Yes I know, arrogant, horrible, et cetera. You needn’t continue. I get the idea.”

Three days ago, she would have bristled at the interruption and seethed over a remark infused with a boredom bordering on insolence. Then she would have delivered him a set-down that would make her remarks at the ball tame in comparison. Today, embarrassment heated her cheeks to blistering degrees. Amelia snapped her mouth closed.

He crossed the room, not coming to a stop until he stood wide-legged in front of her desk. Amelia’s heart had started to beat faster when he’d bypassed his desk; now it galloped along at unheard-of speeds. Yet she still maintained the fortitude to acknowledge him with a supercilious raise of her eyebrow.

“Is my mother hosting a party in your honor?”

Amelia wished she didn’t know of what he spoke. But she did. She treated him to a blank stare anyway.

“Your hair. Your dress. Isn’t it a bit fancy for all this?” A jerk of his head indicated all this was the narrow scope of her current existence: the study.

So what if she’d had Hélène take the irons to give her hair some bouncy curls?

Outward beauty, while pleasing to the eye, isn’t enough to hold my attention.

And so what if the pale violet, silk dress with trimmings of puffed ribbon might be more suited for an elegant supper party? It wasn’t a crime that she chose to wear it today.

You could never tempt me.

But as much as she tried to convince herself of that fact, she knew he saw right through to her damaged pride and silently mocked her.

God help me should I have a daughter like you.

He let her stew in her foolishness a second longer before turning on his heel and heading to his desk. “Before you get settled there, I’ll need some coffee.” He tossed the remark over his shoulder with a casualness meant to give the impression that such a request was a common occurrence.

Amelia gave her head a violent mental shake. Fetch him his coffee? Has he gone completely daft?

“Then I suggest you ring for one of the servants.”

“And why should I do that when I have you?” He now sat ensconced behind his desk.

“Why should I get you coffee when you employ a team of servants whose express purpose is to cater to your every whim?” He’d now taken his petty vindictiveness to a level of which even he should be ashamed.