Charming the Runaway Duke Page 6

  “I do not understand,” she started to interrupt.

  “Your heart, Lady Amelia.” He took a deep breath in the face of her wide, unblinking gaze. “You have the most beautiful heart I have ever known.”

  “You…you…” She gave her head a shake. “You find me beautiful because I’m…”

  “Kind? Yes,” he said simply. “And also because you are clever, and funny, and because you can laugh at yourself and make others take themselves less seriously as well. You are the loveliest woman in any room because you have a light within you, Amelia—”

  “I did not give you leave to use my name.” The words were soft but she tugged her hands from his with a harsh jerk. Her confusion turned to something else…hurt, maybe.

  No, that couldn’t be right. He’d only meant to show her how he saw her, make her see that his feelings for her were real, even if their acquaintance had been short. It seemed imperative that she know how he felt before she knew who he was. Just as he hoped she might fall for him before she knew who he was.

  “This is inappropriate,” she said, her eyes not meeting his. There it was again. That hurt, that…pain.

  “I have offended you,” he said quietly. “I am sorry.”

  She pressed her lips together and he watched her shoulders rise and fall with her inhale. “I am not certain what His Grace intended when he sent you here, but I cannot imagine it was to…to…”

  “Court you?” he finished. “No, that was…not the intention.” He wondered if she could hear the rueful amusement that laced his words. No, he had not set out here to court his bride. Merely to introduce himself and make the necessary arrangements for their wedding and their life together.

  “His Grace might not be here right now,” she continued. With a glance at her feet, she muttered, “Or ever, as the case may be. But he still deserves my loyalty.”

  Did he? Hearing her say those words brought a pang of shame so fierce he could hardly face it. Were she talking about any other man—any man who could be so callous as to ignore her for years on end—he’d tell her she owed him nothing.

  She twisted her hands together but this time she met his gaze when she addressed him. “Was there any other business you needed to discuss with me? Because if not...” She started edging toward the door, but he noticed now that the voices seemed further away, having moved to gather round the tree, no doubt.

  No one was paying them any mind and were not even visible from where they stood.

  “Do you feel it, my lady?”

  “To what do you refer?” She blinked but not before he caught the flicker of panic. Triumph surged through him, but it was tempered by a panic of his own. Time was running out. He could not keep this ruse up forever and it seemed tantamount to her happiness and to his that they forge this connection now before his true identity mucked it all up.

  “You do feel it,” he said, with all the certainty he felt.

  She stumbled back a step. “I—I do not know what you—”

  “This.” He gestured between the two of them. “This connection. I have felt it from the first moment I saw you.”

  “I do not—” She seemed to stop herself and when her gaze met his it was filled with a strength he hadn’t expected but which made him love her that much more. “No, I cannot.”

  He knew what she meant and in that moment he nearly blurted out his secret, but then—

  “You must go.”

  It wasn’t the words that stopped him so much as the pain in her eyes, written all over her face. “Amelia, please, let me—”

  “No.”

  “Just let me explain.”

  “No.” She said it louder this time. “If you feel anything at all like what I am feeling then you will do what is kind. You will do what is right,” she said. “You will walk away.”

  He meant to. He ought to. And yet… that look of being lost, of being torn in two. He could not bear it. Instinct kicked in—some protective instinct that he had not even known he possessed had him moving toward her. “Amelia,” he murmured as he pulled her into his arms.

  And then he kissed her.

  Time stood still for one precious moment as she froze in his arms. Her lips were unbearably sweet, her breath warm as it mingled with his when she let out a sigh of pleasure. He hoped it was pleasure because he could not bear it if he were the only one who felt such keen joy at the rightness of this moment. Of the way they fit together like they’d been built to be one.

  A part of himself he hadn’t known had been missing had been returned to him.

  He couldn’t be the only one who felt it.

  But after a heartbeat, she pulled back, tugging herself free of his embrace as one of her hands clapped over her lips as if they stung. “This cannot happen.”

  And then she was gone, out the side door that led to the hallway and…out of his life.

  Chapter 9

  Amelia’s heart thudded against her ribcage as she fled up the stairs and to her room, slamming the door closed behind her as if she were being chased.

  She wasn’t; she knew that. Despite her abrupt departure, she hadn’t been afraid with Mr. Greenwald. Not once. Not even when he’d kissed her.

  Her hand still covered her lips, as though she could hold onto the sensation for the rest of her life. If only she could…

  Shutting her eyes she let her head drop back against the door as she forced herself to slow her breathing. In, out. Deep breathing had never been so ineffective.

  Her heart still pounded like she’d been running, and it ached like she was in mourning.

  Absurd. She scolded herself for the overreaction, and yet that did nothing to stop her heart from attempting to race away from her once more as her mind skipped from memory to memory of the last few minutes as though trying to catalogue each and every detail—every look in his eyes, every heated touch through her clothes, and the feel of her very first kiss.

  So wrong and yet so perfect.

  She finally dropped her hand as a long sigh escaped. She had not meant for it to happen but she could not feel regret. If for the rest of her life she was bound to only kiss one man, at least she would have that memory, brief though it might be.

  But at least she’d have the memory of being kissed by someone who actually thought she was beautiful. Perfect, even. A smile tugged at her lips and helped to make the pain bittersweet as she let herself revel in his words.

  He thought she was beautiful, and kind, and funny, and…oh, how she loved the way she’d looked through his eyes. For a minute there it had been too easy to forget that it was forbidden because it had seemed so right.

  Being alone with him, holding his hands…kissing him. It had seemed so fantastically right. Like she’d come home.

  Stupid. So daft. She banged her head lightly against the door. This was what she got for reading so many fanciful romances, she supposed. Her silly heart had leapt for the first man to say sweet words. That was all it was. An infatuation because she’d finally met a man who saw her first and not her cousin. A man who hadn’t seemed to notice anyone else in the room all evening long…just her.

  She clutched a hand to her heart as it squeezed painfully at the memory—so achingly sweet.

  Yes, that must have been it. She’d just been flattered by the attention, that was all.

  Liar.

  She tried to block out the voice that mocked her with little success. She wasn’t sure whether to be angry or elated that Mr. Greenwald had said all that he’d said or done what he’d done.

  It was wrong, obviously. Inappropriate, of that there was no doubt. And yet… now she knew how it felt to be seen and heard and wanted. Not because of her title or her wealth, but because of who she was.

  Although… now she knew.

  There was the bittersweet ache. Now she knew what she could never have.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she gave herself one minute to wallow in self-pity. She even counted the seconds and when she reached sixty she opened her eyes, drew in
a deep breath and let it out on a rush of air.

  Tilting her head up high she braced herself with another steadying inhale. Mr. Greenwald might have seen her for who she was, but it was hardly a mystery to herself. She met her own gaze in the reflection of the mirror. She was strong. She was loyal.

  She was to marry the Duke of Harlow.

  Amelia kept her head high as she left her private quarters, descended the stairs and reached the drawing room, ready to face Mr. Greenwald, although she had no idea what she was going to say. Thank you? Get out of my house? Neither seemed right, but then again, it turned out that neither was necessary.

  When she reached the drawing room, she saw that he was gone, along with the Earl of Tolston.

  Amelia’s great aunt was saying goodbye to Charmian and his sister, while Madeline bid adieu to the dowager duchess. They both spotted her as she entered the room. “Ah, I am glad you rejoined us,” the dowager duchess called out.

  Amelia forced a smile as she joined them. “My apologies,” she said, avoiding her cousin’s scrutinizing gaze as she clasped the older woman’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m afraid the late hour was taking a toll on me.”

  Once again she ignored Madeline’s searching look. Her cousin knew very well that she was prone to late nights. It was mornings that were a hardship for her.

  The dowager duchess patted her hand. “Never fear, my dear.” Her eyes blazed with mischief. “I imagine you have had your fill of surprises this evening, no?”

  The older woman tilted her turban-clad head knowingly and this time Amelia did look to Madeline out of fear. Did the dowager duchess know? Had she seen that kiss? Was everyone talking about it?

  Her heart started to pound once more but Madeline’s eyes were wide with confusion and the elderly woman’s gaze was shrewd but there was no judgement.

  “Pardon?” It came out higher than she would have liked but the dowager duchess merely laughed.

  “Mr. Greenwald told you, did he not?” She shook her head in the face of Amelia’s wide-eyed shock. She knew. Oh heavens, the dowager duchess knew.

  “Told her what?” Madeline asked, looking from Amelia to the dowager duchess with concern.

  Amelia opened her mouth to say “Nothing!” but the older woman spoke first. “That he is the Duke of Harlow, of course,” she said.

  “I can explain—wait, what?” Amelia turned her stare on the older woman who looked so very smug beneath that feathered turban.

  “Oh, my dear, I knew it from the start!” She shook her head, apparently misreading the shock she found on the two women’s faces. “How very romantic.”

  Amelia continued to stare. “What? How did you—”

  She tilted her head back with a laugh. “He might have been able to fool everyone else with his antics, but I knew his father well once upon a time, and that boy…” She jabbed a finger toward the door where Mr. Greenwald had left. “That man is the very image of his father. Just like his mother, too, if he thinks to play games with the ton in such a way.”

  The dowager duchess shook her head, though her attitude seemed more tolerant amusement than irritation at being duped. She did not seem to notice that the two younger ladies were gaping at her with ill-concealed shock.

  “But—but—” Before Amelia could formulate another question, the older woman was called away by her companion and the two of them chased after one of the puppies that had gotten loose from the poor Earl of Charmian’s grasp.

  Madeline stood beside her in silence as their visitors left. They stood there facing the door long after it shut behind the departing guests, even after her aunt bid them goodnight and went upstairs to her rooms.

  They stood there for so long, Amelia was not certain who would ever break the silence or they’d be doomed to stand there in stunned silence all night.

  “She must be mistaken.” It was Madeline who finally spoke, and she sounded…not nearly as resolute as one might hope.

  Amelia turned to face her normally placid friend and saw that her pretty features were drawn together in concern. For her part, Amelia felt as though the ground had given out beneath her feet with the dowager duchess’s pronouncement and she still hadn’t regained her footing.

  Her heart was racing and her mind…her mind was scrambling, putting pieces together, replaying every word Mr. Greenwald had said from the moment he’d arrived. The way he’d interrupted the earl’s introduction, the way the two men seemed far more like equals than a gentleman and an employee. The way he had taken liberties with her, which seemed to be in such contrast to his perfectly decent upstanding gentlemanly manners.

  Perhaps the duke is closer than you think.

  “She must be mistaken,” Madeline said again, though her voice lacked all conviction. It sounded more like she was hoping for Amelia to agree and help her make her point. She seemed to be awaiting a laugh or an explanation, neither of which Amelia could summon.

  “She must be…mustn’t she?” Oh Madeline…poor, dear Madeline. Always so calm, so logical. Her life was always so orderly, even her emotions. She seemed entirely baffled how something like this could happen. Or why.

  Amelia, on the other hand—well, she was starting to suspect. Her memory had sifted through their interactions. She remembered in perfect, vivid detail the way he’d pulled her toward him, the passionate words followed by that searing kiss. Without meaning to, she lifted a hand to her lips.

  Lips which still burned with the memory of him.

  “But why?” Madeline asked with a shake of her head. “If she is correct…why would he do something like that? I could not think of a single reason.”

  Couldn’t she? Pain sliced through Amelia so fiercely she dropped her hand away from her lips as she gasped for air. “I can.”

  Madeline placed a hand on her arm but Amelia’s pain was rapidly solidifying into anger and she stared at the door where he’d left with clenched fists. The flirtation, the compliments, the kiss…there could only be one explanation. Even in the moment she’d known it was too good to be true. He’d been too good to be true. With harsh determination she forced herself to look at these last two days with new eyes, and what she saw was so plain it nearly gutted her. He’d been trying to woo her, not because he loved her…not because he wanted her….

  No, he was a cruel lord, indeed. Checking to make sure his new bride was trustworthy, perhaps. Ensuring that he had her fidelity. The thought made her chest ache with unshed tears, but her voice was tight with anger. “He was testing me.”

  Chapter 10

  “You should have told her.” Alec was sprawled across one of the great room’s settees, a drink in hand as they absorbed the heat from the fire.

  Royce did not bother to answer. Obviously he should have told her. What was more, he never should have lied to Amelia in the first place. But he could not quite work up the correct amount of ire as he wallowed in front of the fireplace, glad of the fact that the sun was sinking. He wanted this day over. It had been a waste. All day he and his friend had tried to figure out how best he could remedy this situation that he’d so thoroughly ruined the night before, and the best they’d come up with was…nothing.

  “You’ll just have to come clean,” Alec said.

  Royce nodded. Again with the stating of the obvious. He kept his mouth shut because his foul mood was aimed at himself; there was no reason to take his malice out on Alec when all Alec had done was try to make him see reason from the start. One of the servants entered and handed Alec a note, distracting him from this latest round of a little game he called ‘how badly had Royce botched matters, let me count the ways.’

  Royce took a sip of his drink and stared at the fire as though it might hold all the answers. No. No answers. Just more guilt, shame, and regret. His bride-to-be had already held disdain for the Duke of Harlow, now he could add sheer hatred once she discovered the truth.

  It was his own stupid fault that he’d gotten into this mess, and now it was up to him to make it right. “I will tell
her,” he said. He glanced over at Alec. “Tomorrow.”

  “Or tonight,” Alec said.

  Royce frowned, anxiety clenching his gut at the mere thought. “I think tomorrow should do just—”

  “You will tell her tonight.” Alec waved the missive before him like a flag. “She has sent an invitation.” Alec arched a brow. “For Mr. Greenwald, in particular.”

  Hope soared alongside trepidation. “Perhaps I have not ruined things entirely if—” He stopped speaking abruptly in the face of his friend’s glower. “No. Quite right. I’ve botched things entirely.”

  Alec did not argue. They both knew it was the truth.

  Royce eyed the note. But here, now…he might just have the opportunity to make things right. He took a sip of his drink.

  After all, ’twas the season for miracles and forgiveness, was it not?

  Or at the very least, it was the season for miracles.

  Heaven knew that right about now? He could use one.

  * * *

  “You’re certain you know what you’re doing?” Alec asked a little while later.

  No. “Yes.” The truth was he had no idea what he was going to say or do to make this right other than the obvious. He would come clean, tell her the truth…and just pray that she gave him a second chance to make things right.

  The door opened and all thoughts of repentance fled in the face of the vision before him.

  Well, the butler stood directly before him, but he’d caught sight of Amelia behind him, hovering in the hallway, all demure shyness and quiet beauty.