His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (6 page)

Chapter Five

Death would be a welcome
part of life just now. Yes,
death
.

Similar to that awful morning two
weeks ago, she had a horrible headache and was nauseous, presumably
due to the bundle of nerves she'd been last night; unfortunately,
she couldn’t blame this particular feeling on a fruity
drink.

She
had
to tell him. He deserved to
know.

Wearily, she rolled out of bed and
rubbed her tired eyes.

“
Good morning, Mrs. Banks,” a familiar voice said from the
adjoining door.

“
Elijah?”

“
Or am I Henry?” he teased.

She offered him a weak smile. “That
never worked with me.”

“
I know,” he said, frowning. He walked further inside and
kicked the door closed behind him. In his hands, he carried a tray
filled with several pastries and fruits. “Templemore had these sent
up, and I thought I'd see if you'd like to have breakfast with
me?”

Her face burned. “Can't we just
leave?”

Elijah set the tray down on the
vanity. “Is something not to your liking?”

“
It's not that. It's just—” She tucked a tendril of her dark
hair behind her ear and swallowed her unease. “They think we're up
here becoming better acquainted as husband and wife.”

“
And we're not?” Elijah asked, gesturing to the tray of
food.

“
You know what I meant.”

“
Indeed.” He lifted the tray again and walked toward her bed.
“But I feel compelled to ask when you started caring what other
people think about you?”

Since I woke up to find
I'd been unknowingly stripped of my virtue, might be carrying a
child and foolishly agreed to marry Lord Friar
. She forced a shrug. “I don't want to seem impolite or
inhospitable.”

A sharp bark of laughter
filled the air. “You're a new bride the morning after her wedding,
nobody expects you to be holding court in the breakfast room.” He
snorted. “Clearly, Templemore didn't even think
you'd
be awake yet.”

Amelia's cheeks burned. “You are your
father's son, aren't you?” she mused, remembering all the times his
father had made some sort of dry remark that hedged on the side of
being considered scandalous.

With a hint of a smile, he did a mock
bow. “Guilty, I'm afraid.”

“
Do you miss him?” she asked, taking a strawberry tart from
the tray.

Elijah set the tray down on the bed
next to her and then made himself comfortable on the other side.
“Sometimes; but not the same as Alex and Weenie,” he added,
snatching a biscuit.

“
Because you have a twin and they don't?”

“
No. I think Alex was closer to Father because he was the
oldest and they shared more common interests, what with their love
for all things science and Alex being his heir and all. Then Weenie
was the youngest, and his only daughter.” He shrugged. “I would
never say that I didn't feel any attachment at all for him or him
for me. I certainly did, but I just wasn't as close to him as the
other two. Neither was Henry.”

“
Because you had each other,” she murmured again between
bites.

“
I suppose so. I never really thought about it that way, but
now that I've said it, I suppose you're right.”

“
I usually am,” Amelia retorted, smiling. Something about the
way Elijah looked at her in return made her smile falter. There was
a certain intensity in his eyes she hadn't expected to see just
then. She cleared her throat and shifted. “Where do you plan for us
to go now?”

Elijah lifted a single
brow.

“
Certainly you didn't expect us to live out the rest of our
lives here with your friend Lord Templemore, did you?”

“
Well, no,” Elijah conceded, twisting his lips into an
overdone frown and nodding once. “But if you'd like to, I'm sure
arrangements could be made...”

Amelia shook her head and grinned.
“No. And I wouldn't think you'd like that, either.”

“
No, I wouldn't like to live out the rest of our lives here,
but—” his voice dropped to little more than a soft whisper— “I see
no reason to leave immediately.”

Amelia's breath caught and she nearly
lost hold of her tart. “Y-you don't?”

***

Elijah wanted to laugh at her naivety.
“No, I don't,” he whispered, leaning toward her.

“
Wh-what are you doing?”

This time Elijah did laugh—inwardly,
anyway. He'd never be so ill-mannered as to humiliate her by
actually laughing at her innocence. “Just relax,” he murmured,
leaning in toward her again.

Her nervous giggle was the equivalent
of her throwing her hands up to stop him. He frowned at her. “Is
something humorous?”

“
N-no,” she said. There wasn't laughter lacing her voice any
longer, but neither was her tone as soft as usual.

He ignored the uncertainty stamped on
her face and pressed forward, closing the gap between them. His
lips found hers and she pulled away. Not to be deterred, he brought
his hand up to cup her face and held her still while he leaned in
for another kiss.

Unfortunately, this one was far less
satisfactory than the one yesterday. He pushed the thought from his
mind and kissed her again, but missed her lips and kissed her cheek
when she moved her head to evade him.

“
I don't think this is a good time,” she said with a slight
hitch in her voice.

“
No, it's the perfect time.” He tucked a tendril of her fallen
hair behind her ear, then swallowed his unease and brought his lips
to hers again.

Hard and unyielding, kissing Amelia
was what he imagined kissing a stone would be like. He fought the
urge to frown and continued to kiss his marble statue.

“
Amelia,” he said, pulling back. “Kiss me back.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I
can't.”

“
Yes, you can. First you need to relax your lips, then you
need to mirror my actions,” he said, leaning toward her for what he
hoped would be the final time.

“
I-I don't think so.” She pulled away from him and put her
fingers to his lips to stop him from kissing her again.

Elijah's hand slowly encircled her
wrist and pulled her hand away from his face. “Is something wrong?”
he murmured half-heartedly.

“
No, not wrong.” She bit her lower lip and let her eyes wander
the room. “This just really isn't the time.”

Elijah wanted to groan. For a young
lady who'd once made it a habit to chase him around the lawn,
trying to kiss him, she sure didn't seem too interested in kissing
him when the time was finally appropriate. He raked a hand through
his hair. Considering the circumstances, it was probably for the
best. Likely she was still tired, and for as much as he might be
ready to initiate lovemaking, his friend's house was probably not
the best place.

From beneath his lashes, Elijah
noticed Amelia was fingering the top of her chemise, presumably
trying to keep it pressed firmly to her skin, depriving him of any
glimpse of skin he might have been afforded otherwise. He touched
the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. “Stop fussing.
You're decent—enough.”

Her blush made him grin. “Perhaps I
should don my gown from yesterday.” She cast her eyes to the
crumpled blue and white mess just to the left of where her dainty,
stockinged foot dangled from the side of the bed.

He twisted his lips. “You enjoy your
breakfast, and leave your wardrobe to me.”

A burble of laughter passed her lips
and she cast him a quizzical look. “I wait with bated breath to see
what you deem appropriate.”

He frowned. “What is that to
mean?”

“
If a lady's wardrobe was left to her husband to decide, she'd
spend her days wearing—” She abruptly broke off, then cleared her
throat.

Elijah casually reached
forward and took another tart from the tray, hoping she'd continue
where she'd left off. He couldn't say why, but he was truly
interested in what she might suggest. Of course he had an idea of
what she was about to say, but wanted to hear it from her—and more
curious than that, why had she stopped? She should know him well
enough by now to know nothing she could say, and he truly
meant
nothing
,
could possibly scandalize him or make him think less of
her.

When it had become clear she had no
intention of resuming her former thought, he said, “Don't worry,
one of Templemore's maids can help you dress before we
leave.”

“
And exactly where will we be going?”

He hesitated but a moment. “Watson
Estate.”

“
But isn't your brother and his wife hosting a house party
there?”

“
Yes; but we won't have to attend, if you don't wish to.” He
picked up a blackberry tart and brought it to his lips. “I don't
have a country home, so it's either there or London.”

Amelia idly twirled her hair around
her fingers and looked decidedly unconvinced.

“
Don't worry,” Elijah said, brushing off the excess sugar from
his fingers. “It'll just be my family. A more scandalous lot I have
yet to meet.”

She cast him a dubious look. “You must
be talking about your cousins, because I've never heard your name,
or that of any of your brothers attached to a single
scandal.”

“
Indeed,” Elijah said slowly. “But you forget. I do have a
sister.”

“
No, I haven't forgotten her; nor how to properly pronounce
her name.” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Elijah chuckled as for a mere moment
it seemed the new constraints of their relationship evaporated and
they were both transported back in time to when they could share
private jests with a few simple words and secret
expressions.

Chapter Six

From beneath her lowered lashes,
Amelia watched as Elijah sighed and leaned his back against the red
velvet squabs of the carriage Lord Templemore had insisted on
loaning him for their trip to Watson Estate.

Amelia wondered what he was thinking,
but didn’t dare ask and continued to pretend she was sleeping. It
appeared at first as if he were in deep contemplation, but now he
was squeezing his eyes shut so tightly lines that looked like he'd
just been scratched by the claw of a crow fanned out from the
corners of his eyelids.

She had no idea what would make him
act in such a way. It wasn't he who had a damning secret. Nor was
it he who'd been married the day before only out of pity. Amelia
immediately tried to swallow the large, uncomfortable lump that had
suddenly taken up residence in her throat.

Yesterday, she'd foolishly
convinced herself everything would turn out all right. Elijah was
her friend. But that was just it. Elijah was her
friend
. He had no other
interest in her and his horrible charade earlier this morning
proved it. The stiff, impersonal way he'd tried to kiss her turned
Amelia into a walking contradiction of herself. She'd always
dreamed of kissing Elijah, and fancied herself in love with him for
as long as she could comprehend, but she'd had no desire to kiss
him back. And it wasn't because of the secret she possessed or
because they were at his friend's, but quite simply, his actions
were cold and devoid of any emotion, done solely out of
obligation—a fact that hurt worse than a simple, honest
rejection.

A raw, strangled sound broke the
silence in the carriage.

“
Elijah, are you feeling all right?” she asked before she
could stop herself.

Elijah snapped his eyes open. “Yes.
Are you?”

Amelia ignored his question. She'd
already given herself away that she was not sleeping; she might as
well make the best of it. “Are you sure you're all right? Your
hands are clenched into fists and your face was just contorted the
same way it did the time Henry hit you with the end of his pall
mall mallet.”

He winced and like it always did when
this topic was mentioned, his right hand drifted down to idly rub
his shin. “That is undoubtedly one of the most painful memories of
my boyhood.”

“
Yes, I know.” She changed positions and tucked her
stocking-clad feet up under her. Lady Templemore had graciously
offered her one of her traveling gowns and though reluctant, Amelia
had accepted. She'd have been a fool not to. “You actually
cried.”

“
I did not.”

“
Yes—” she pinned him with her gaze— “you did.”