leaving an expansive amount of creamy skin on display. And that was all it took after over three long weeks to make him hard. And then angry with her, but more with himself for his lack of control.
“Thomas.” She whispered his name like a prayer come true.
His heart slammed against his chest. “I was told you were gone,” he said coldly, as he bent and scooped his coat from the floor.
The light in her eyes dimmed. “I can’t imagine who would have told you such a thing,” she said, coming to her feet.
“Your father.” And idiot that he was, he’d believed him. He should have known. Damn, he should have known. Harry Bertram had proven to be a premier manipulator.
“By any chance, have you seen my mother’s punch bowl?”
Amelia shook her head, giving him a blank-eyed stare.
You might want to start with the library. I believe I went in there earlier for some reason or another.
And it appeared his mother was in line to assume his mantle should Harry ever relinquish it.
“Then my business here is done.” He bowed deeply and turned to go.
“Thomas, please. May I speak with you?” He’d heard Amelia plead but once. He discovered the second time made it all that harder to deny her.
He halted but kept his back to her. While his traitorous heart urged him to go to her, his pride willed him to continue on his way. He’d told her he loved her and she’d said nothing. His pride—as always—won the battle. At the door, he heard a muffled noise that sounded like a sob. But that was impossible because Amelia never cried. Never allowed herself to give in to the weakness of tears.
Once standing outside the library door, he saw he was still in possession of his coat.
“You will go back in there and speak with that girl.”
The viscountess’s presence several feet away startled him. The tone of her voice even more so. It had been a long time since she’d reprimanded him with such rank censure.
“I’ve spoken all I care to, to Amelia. And I beg you to keep out of my personal affairs. I manage them quite fine without either yours or her father’s interference.” Rarely was he forced to speak to his mother in this manner, but then rarely did she give him cause.
She approached him, her mouth set in a line of disapproval. “I don’t know what crime Amelia has committed to cause you to treat her this way, nor do I really care to. What I do know is that for almost a month she’s become a shadow of the girl who returned from your sister’s home. She mopes about the place like a lost soul. She jumps every time someone comes to call because she believes it might be you returning home. She looks haunted every time your name is mentioned. If not for her sake or your own, then go back and talk to her for my sake. Listen to her. Perhaps you’ll see sense enough to lower that pride of yours.”
Thomas wasn’t sure for whose sake he turned and reentered the room, but he did.
Amelia’s throat locked up, and the corners of her eyes stung. She heaved in another painful sob. But her eyes remained dry.
After another minute of grieving the death of her hopes, Amelia rose to take her leave when the door opened and Thomas strode in, halting by the table of spirits. Without glancing at her, he poured himself a drink, downing it in one swallow. Only after he’d placed the empty glass back on the table, did he turn to regard her.
Amelia longed to sink back onto the stability of the chair, but as it was, he was peering down at her, his green eyes glacial and narrowed, his mouth a slash under his nose. So she remained standing, her hands clammy and cold.
“I returned at my mother’s urging,” he stated coldly.
“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.
The room went silent.
“I’m waiting,” he said, impatience and a trace of anger in his voice.
Lord, he was going to make her crawl—not that she believed it would do much good. “My father was here. We talked.”
“And your point being? I am quite aware your father was here.”
Amelia swallowed hard, and before her courage splintered into a train wreck at her feet, she whispered, “He told me that you might care to see me again. That perhaps you’ve been unhappy since you left … me.”
A short, dark laugh rent the air. “And in your