A Taste of Desire(84)
“I wasn’t the only one,” he said darkly.
Too angry to be embarrassed, her response was fierce. “As long as this remains between just the two of us, we are safe. More than anything, I want to forget this ever happened. We’ll not speak a word of this again, agreed?”
For many moments, Thomas stared at her without answering, his expression unreadable. He ended the silence with a slow nod. “Yes, I suppose that would be for the best. No one wants to be reminded of their mistakes.”
His words clobbered her, effectively releasing her from the invisible hold he had on her. Amelia hastened from the room, allowing herself the luxury of a ragged breath only once she was secured within the thick walls of her bedchamber.
Chapter 22
When Hélène awakened her at the dreadful hour of seven, Amelia contemplated remaining in bed. Thomas could hardly fault her given her recent illness, but he would know her absence had everything to do with last night … the debauching of an innocent. For that reason alone, she forced herself to rise.
Except for a cup of tea, she hadn’t touched the contents of her breakfast tray. And now as she sat alone at her secretaire, the rumble of her belly proclaimed the morning was destined to be a long one. But, it would have been regardless of the state of her appetite, for neither time nor sleep had blotted the memory of the time she’d spent in Thomas’s bed … in his arms. When sleep had finally claimed her, his kisses, his touch, the feel of him inside her had chased through her dreams to her waking moments and dogged her still.
In an effort to block the torrid images of his aroused, naked body from her thoughts, she tried to focus instead on his duplicity. Although she’d mentally severed ties with Lord Clayborough weeks ago when she’d realized he was not the man for her, that did not excuse Thomas’s deceitful machinations. She needed to remain angry. Anger didn’t make her feel weak inside or cause her to yearn in ways she’d never dreamed of.
Amelia was firmly resolved to forget the incident. She’d allowed a handsome face, a few passionate embraces, and a token gesture of concern to cause a ruinous lapse in her judgment. Despite the good she’d seen in him these past months, taking—no stealing—her letters was proof of his true character. With a new resolve, Amelia did her utmost to busy herself with the work on her desk.
Ten minutes later Thomas arrived, and with that her heart sank. Had she really believed his allure could be muted or its effect controlled? He was the kind of man females clamored to like Christians to church. But how many women knew that beneath his good looks and surface charm lay such a lying, conniving soul—an attribute undoubtedly honed and perfected at the feet of her own dear father.
“Good morning, Amelia.” He spoke briskly, barely sparing her a glance as he strode to his desk.
Amelia hid her surprise, managing a crisp nod. He didn’t appear uneasy, his expression displaying not one iota of guilt. He had taken the innocence of a lady. He had plenty to be guilty for. An honorable gentleman would already have the ring fitted and polished, and her father’s blessing. Not even she could have anticipated he’d treat her with such disregard. She tipped her chin and lengthened her spine.
“As you can see, the work has accumulated in your absence.” He sounded distracted as his gaze roamed over the piles of paper littering his desk. “I will be working in the library if you require my assistance.” He regarded her. “File these.” He gestured broadly about his desk. “And once that task is complete, I have a contract requiring translation. Oh, and try not to tire yourself.” Without a backward glance, he picked up the ledger and exited the room.
Amelia didn’t know how long she sat there frozen, her composure crumbling. While she railed at herself for being a hundred different kinds of fool, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry—desperately willing herself not to spill bitter tears of disbelief and regret. She hadn’t cried last night, so she certainly wouldn’t cry now. He had duped her once, but she’d take the veil before she ever allowed it to happen again. He wasn’t worth her precious tears or another dram of wasted emotion. Moreover, this was what she herself had insisted on. The sooner they both forgot about the incident, the better. She expected nothing from him. Nothing.
A shuffled sound drew her attention to the study door. Blast, he’s returned. She quickly picked up a stack of contracts and lowered her head in the pretense of deep concentration.