A Taste of Desire(94)
“Hélène, it’s morning.”
“Oui, mademoiselle.” Hélène replied as if Amelia hadn’t just stated the obvious.
“Why didn’t you wake me for supper?”
“Lord Armstrong told me to permit you to sleep.”
Did he indeed?
A half hour later Amelia was making her way down the stairs continuing to ponder Thomas’s motivation. Had his gesture been one of kindness, or had her exhaustion simply presented him with a way to avoid her company? She disliked not knowing. But more than ever she disliked that his reasons so concerned her.
As Amelia started toward the breakfast room, Lord Alex rounded the hallway and headed toward her.
He stopped in front of her, and dropped into a deep bow. “Good morning, Lady Amelia. You look lovely as always.” A roguish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I was completely heartbroken to discover you wouldn’t be joining us for supper last evening.”
Amelia laughed. Such effusiveness was hard to take seriously. “And certainly if I’d known you were here, neither illness nor a natural disaster would have prevented my attendance.”
“Well, thank heavens for that. Last night I thought I’d lost my touch.” His grey eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Will my company for breakfast suffice, or would that constitute a poor substitute?” she teased, something she found easy to do with him.
“If you’ll give me fifteen minutes to make myself presentable, I would be more than honored.” He motioned to his riding clothes and punctuated his tongue-in-cheek formality with a wink.
“I guess I can stave off hunger for that long, but not a moment longer,” Amelia replied, only half joking. After all, she hadn’t eaten since the afternoon snack the day before.
“Am I interrupting something?” A thread of steel ran through Thomas’s tone, giving its mildness a deceptive ring.
Amelia started and turned at the question. The blasted man needed a cowbell to alert her of his presence. He had stopped outside of the drawing room, his arms folded, his form taut, looking the very picture of the Archangel Gabriel, all golden, handsome … and entirely too forbidding. No man should look that good in precisely cut and stitched wool and cotton. And certainly not when it appeared he’d used his fingers instead of a comb to tame those silken locks. Why did he have to look so … so damnably appealing?
Lord Alex regarded his friend, looking, by all appearances, unperturbed. “Actually, I do believe you are. Is that not right, Lady Amelia?” He shot her a glance, his eyebrow raised in question.
Amelia did her circumspect best to quell a burst of laughter that bubbled to the surface. She gave a choked cough and offered no response.
Thomas’s glower grew as he eyed Lord Alex. After a pause, he regarded her. “You must be hungry. Allow me to escort you to breakfast.”
“Lady Amelia has just agreed to join me for breakfast as soon as I clean up.”
The only thing worse than two boys fighting over a toy, was two fully grown men treating a woman in the same manner. And currently, Thomas was the guilty party in this childish tug of war, although Lord Alex could easily be accused of his own bit of mischief making.
Amelia started to speak, as she should have some say in the matter. “I really—”
“Then we’ll make certain to chew slowly,” Thomas said, dismissing Cartwright with a turn of the head and motioning for Amelia to come to him.
No one moved and no one spoke during the deafening silence that followed. Amelia was simply too struck dumb to do anything, the situation simply too unbelievable to be real. Both men watched her, their expressions expectant.
Finally, Lord Alex turned to her. “The decision is yours. I would certainly understand if you chose to accompany Armstrong.”
Thomas’s intake of breath was audible, his anger visible for all to see. Two red slashes stained his cheekbones as his eyes turned into emerald chips. His chest rose and fell the way one did when striving to maintain control. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate his friend’s magnanimity; didn’t like that Lord Alex’s manner was a great deal more civilized than his.
“Amelia, please leave us. I need to speak with Cartwright … privately.” Thomas had his friend fixed in his gaze.
“Whatever you wish to say, I’m sure it can be said in front of Lady Amelia.” Lord Alex ruined what would have been a smooth retort when a smirk caught the corners of his mouth.