A Taste of Desire(85)


“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

At the sound of Lord Alex’s voice, Amelia raised her head, a wave of relief flooding her. He looked as handsome as ever, freshly shaved and clad in olive trousers and waistcoat, and a matching cravat was knotted about his neck. A pair of black leather gloves hung from his left hand.

“Good morning, Lady Amelia.” He greeted her with an easy smile, advancing toward her before halting in front of the desk.

“Good morning, Lord Alex.” She tried her best to adopt an amicable tone that wouldn’t reveal her inner turmoil. “And no, you’re not—at least nothing that can’t wait.” He was a friendly face, one she could desperately use right now.

“I’ve come to say good-bye. I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Don’t leave, she wanted to plead, but of course, her pride would never permit her to utter such words. At the understanding smile that tipped the corners of his mouth, she wondered if her expression looked as stricken as she felt.

“If I’d known you would be such pleasant company, I would have arranged to stay a month. As it is, business matters compel me back to London. As no sensible woman will have me, I must continue to work for my keep.”

Amelia let out a throaty chuckle. “I hardly believe things are quite that dire.” Her father had once told her the profits from Wendel’s Shipping alone would have the future generation of Cartwrights exceedingly well cared for. In addition, with his stunning good looks, second son or not, she imagined there weren’t many women who would refuse him.

“I’ve managed to keep myself off the streets, so I guess things could be worse,” he replied with a wink.

“Perhaps, I shall see you again before I leave.”

“That, Lady Amelia, would be my dearest wish.” Then with an exaggerated bow, he took her proffered hand to his mouth, his lips treating the back of it with an airy kiss.

“I also need to have the—” Thomas’s voice broke off as he came to a jarring halt in the doorway.

Amelia instinctively snatched her hand back and then cursed herself for acting like a thief caught in the act. Peering over Alex’s bowed head, she met Thomas’s gaze. His green eyes narrowed and his mouth firmed.

“I thought you were on your way out?” Although he addressed Lord Alex, his gaze held hers.

Straightening, Lord Alex turned to him, his expression unperturbed. “How could I depart without saying good-bye to Lady Amelia?” he asked, a note of mocking, chastisement in his voice.

Thomas observed them, his features set in a severe cast. “Don’t let me stop you.” The chill in his voice and his stance—wide-legged and bold—emitted a challenge. A pregnant silence followed, the atmosphere thick with the kind of tension capable of destroying friendships.

Alex returned his friend’s regard before moving back to her, a wry smile on his face. “I’m getting the distinct feeling I’m being ushered out. Once again, my dear Lady Amelia, I hope we can further our acquaintance in the near future.”

“I would be so honored, Lord Alex,” Amelia replied, ever conscious Thomas loomed behind them like a menacing prison guard. Perhaps, that’s what goaded her on. “I do hope you’ll join us for Christmas in Berkshire. It would be lovely to see a friendly face—never mind one so handsome.”

As if he understood the reason for her flirtatious compliment, his smile stretched the full width of his jaw. “You make it impossible to refuse.” Grasping her hand again, he brought it to his lips for another kiss.

“Don’t you have a train to catch?” Thomas bit out each syllable.

Lord Alex peered up at her, and with another audacious wink, he released her hand, executed a shallow bow, and turned to Thomas. “I see I have greatly overstayed my welcome. Don’t get so worked up—I’m leaving.”

“Amelia has important work to do. Bid your adieu and go.”

Lord Alex strode to the door, passing his friend’s stiff form without a word. At the threshold, he shot a glance back at Thomas. “I gather then I’ll see you at Rutherford’s.” With that parting shot, he was gone.

“I’m surprised you have any friends at all,” Amelia said, peeved and perversely pleased at his highhanded manner.

“You will stay away from Cartwright, do you understand me?” Gone was the stoic man of minutes before as was his veneer of civility.

“I believe I can manage that now that he’s gone.”

Beverley Kendall's Books