My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) (31 page)

He grinned. “Of course. You were so pitiful, like a wounded puppy. I felt sorry for you, and it made me look weak to stand by and let everyone pick on you.”

Constance had been correct on both accounts. Amelia sighed, not bothering to mention he had called her graceful. She did not need to hear how sorry for her he felt again. “I cannot marry you, Charles.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“You are not at all the sort of man I imagined marrying,” she said, greatly enjoying using his cruel words from moments before back on him. “I think you ought to go now.”

His brow came together as his eyes narrowed. “Exactly what sort of man did you imagine marrying?”

Amelia rose, hoping he would do the same. Glancing down at him, she said, “One I love and who loves me in return.”

Charles stood and towered over her, glaring. “Would this Romeo happen to be a duke?”

She was not about to tell Charles her heart’s secrets, but she would not lie, either. “It’s none of your business.”

Charles blew out a derisive breath. “You disappoint me, Amelia. If you care more about a title than a good gentleman to be your husband, the least you could do is be honest and say so.”

Anger flared in her chest. “I care nothing about titles, Charles, no matter what you might think. Now, I insist you leave.”

Without a word to her, Charles stormed out of the room, and she sank onto the settee with a ragged sigh. If she could not convince Charles she cared nothing for Colin’s title how was she ever going to persuade Colin of the truth when he was so jaded?

Since Colin was arriving at his aunt’s house well before the acceptable calling hour, he was astonished to see Worthington striding out the front door as Colin’s carriage pulled up to the home. He quickly descended his carriage and met Worthington at the bottom step.

His one time friend stopped and glared at Colin. “Perfect timing, as always, Aversley.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” Colin drawled, glancing past Worthington toward the house. Had Amelia just agreed to marry Worthington? Sharp hollowness filled him.

Worthington snorted. “You know exactly what I mean. First you stole Lady Eleanor from me―”

“I did not steal her from you,” Colin said, between clenched teeth. “Let us set the facts to rights regarding her. I had no idea you cared for Lady Eleanor. You had never said a word about her, and I am not a bloody mind reader. When I realized you did care for her, I ended our affair immediately, but she already had another fellow to fill her bed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t want to believe me, but it is true. The gentleman had been in her bed, without my knowledge, before I ended things. She was after a high place in Society, and unfortunately, you could not offer her what she wanted. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the nature of women.”

“Something we finally agree on,” Worthington snarled.

Colin relaxed somewhat. “Who else do you think I have stolen from you?”

“Amelia,” Worthington said bluntly. “I asked her to marry me moments ago, and she turned me down.”

“And she told you it was because of me?” Colin asked, struggling to keep the astonishment from his voice and the hope squashed down.

“She said she wants love, but that’s a lie. I offered her love, and she threw it back in my face.”

“Maybe she does not love you,” Colin said evenly, the hope despite all his efforts, growing.

“Of course she doesn’t,” Worthington roared. “I’m not a bloody duke.”

“Did she say that precisely?” Colin asked as Worthington stomped toward his carriage. But Worthington did not look back. Within seconds, his carriage was pulling away from the house.

Colin turned and started up the steps, his heart thudding hard. Had Amelia just caused Philip to lose the wager, or did her heart now belong to him? Was he a fool to consider such a thing?

The door opened before he got to it, and the butler ushered him into the foyer and departed to announce his arrival. An overwhelming floral scent assaulted him. Colin glanced around at all the flowers in the room and paused. Who the devil would send lily of the valley’s? He strolled to the open card lying on the table and plucked it up and read the note.

Exquisite, was she? Scarsdale had no bloody right to tell Amelia she was exquisite.

Anger as hot as he’d felt the night Colin had seen his mother’s bedchamber door open and heard her soft laughter as she allowed Scarsdale into the room curled in his belly and lit him on fire. He threw the card on the table and stormed toward where he heard his aunt’s and Amelia’s voices coming from. As he turned down the hall toward the parlor, Amelia was there, resplendent in the ice blue day dress he had helped her pick out to transform her. Had he accomplished his goal? His anger deepened and stoked the flame of discontent.

He inclined his head. “Lady Amelia, Aunt Jane.”

His aunt walked past Amelia and patted his arm. “Good to see you, Aversley. If you’ll excuse me, though? I’ve the worst megrim coming on.”

Colin nodded. “Likely caused by the choking floral scent filling the air,” he commented dryly.

Amelia’s gaze came sharply to him, but she said nothing. His aunt, however, chuckled. “Yes, well, perhaps. Lady Amelia has gained several admirers in her short time here in London, it seems.”

“I see. And who might these admirers be?” Colin asked, as if the did not already know one of them.

Amelia shrugged, but his aunt grinned. “Why, your old school chum the Duke of Scarsdale is one of them. And Lords Edington and Shrewsbury are the other two,” his aunt added in a silky voice.

Colin glanced at Amelia to find her gaping at his aunt. What the devil was that about? “Did you not know who sent you the flowers, Lady Amelia?”

“I knew of one of them,” she said pointedly, her words laced with an underlying reprimand.

“I’m sorry, dearest.” Aunt Jane shot Amelia a truly regretful look. “I’m afraid my curiosity really did get the best of me, and I peeked at the other cards when you were visiting with Lord Worthington.”

Colin held his silence since he was in the same position as his aunt. Amelia shrugged. “No matter.” She eyed Colin warily.

“I take it receiving cards from three gentleman with loftier titles than Worthington pleases you,” Colin said, knowing full well he was leading her in the hope she would deny it. His answer was a silent, stern glare.

“I think I’ll retire now,” his aunt said, giving him a pointed stare. “You seem to have it hand, even if rather clumsily.”

“I thank you for your confidence,” he said dryly. Once she was departed, he stood in silence with Amelia for a long moment and finally cleared his throat when it seemed abundantly apparent that she was not going to be the first to say anything.
“Shall we sit in the parlor and visit?”

“Certainly,” she responded. “Lucy is still in there from my last caller.”

“Of course,” Colin replied, sweeping his hand forward to indicate Amelia should move ahead. “I just saw Worthington. He was rather angry.”

“Was he?” Amelia murmured as if she did not know.

With her hips swaying provocatively as she walked, Colin found it hard to concentrate on discerning whether she was being genuine or sarcastic. Most of his energy was directed toward cooling his heated blood.

“Indeed, he was,” he finally answered, unable to tear his gaze away from her softly moving hips.

He followed her into the parlor, took a seat, and eyed her.

The artful way her hair was piled atop her head with a few teasing tendrils dangling around the long, slender column of her neck made him want to unpin her tresses and see them tumble down her shoulders. The view of her creamy skin served as a fierce reminder of just how pleasing having his lips on her neck had been. He shifted in his chair to combat his growing need. “Worthington mentioned you turned down his offer for your hand. I assume this means I have won the wager?”

Damnation. He clenched his fists, suddenly understanding how much he wanted her to deny he had won and to offer a reasonable explanation.

“You assume wrong,” she replied evenly.

“Are you saying you did not deny Worthington’s proposal because you have now set your sights on one of the three, more prominent, gentleman who have taken a fancy to you?”

She pursed her very kissable lips before pressing them into a hard line and then sighing softly. “That’s correct. I denied Lord Worthington’s offer because it was quite obvious he does not love me, and frankly I realized I do not love him.”

Worthington’s words that she wanted a loftier title than his rang in Colin’s ears. He tried to ignore it, but the layers of cynicism were damnably hard to peel away. As much as he wanted to believe, he could not. At least not completely.

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. Her color was high on her cheeks, her pulse visibly beat a rapid pace at her neck, and her hands clutched at the folds of her skirts. Somehow, it made him feel better that she seemed nervous, too. “I don’t mean to play the devil’s advocate”―though truly he did―“but I need to be convinced that you really have not changed who you are rather than the more readily believable explanation that it is your newfound status as an Incomparable that has caused you to deny Worthington. If you can convince me of this, then I will call the wager over and pay your brother’s debts.”

She took a deep breath, the full measure of it pushing her chest upward. “And how should I go about convincing you? I’ve told you the truth, yet you refuse to believe it. Shall I turn down another lofty lord? Five others? Ten?” Her eyes burned with anger. Or was that hurt?

The parlor door swung open, and his aunt strolled through the room followed by Lords Shrewsbury and Edington. Colin stood and scowled at the gentleman. “What the devil do you want?”

“Your Grace!” Amelia cried and popped out of her seat. “Please come in, Lord Edington and Lord Shrewsbury.”

The men darted nervous glances at Colin while shifting from foot to foot. “Very well,” Colin grumbled. “If Lady Amelia says you can sit with her, then who am I to stop you?” No matter how much he wanted to send them on their way. As Amelia went to sit, Edington and Shrewsbury fairly tripped over themselves to help her get to her seat. Colin ground his teeth while taking the chair opposite of everyone else. Amelia’s slender body looked crushed between the larger gentlemen sitting on either side of her.

“This is cozy,” Colin remarked, purposely eyeing both men. “I’m almost inclined to say it’s too cozy. That there are too many gentlemen in this room. Two should leave.”

“Nonsense,” came a deep voice from behind Colin. “I’m sure we are all here for the same purpose. I, for one, have always loved a good competition.”

Cringing with recognition, Colin craned his neck, met Scarsdale’s gaze and frowned. Perfect. The day had just gone from mildly annoying to abominable. “Who let you in?”

“Aversley,” his aunt snapped. “I must ask you to mind your manners no matter how difficult you may find it. This is my house, and therefore these are my guests." His aunt turned her glacial glare from him to Scarsdale, though she softened her look immediately to one of welcome.
Traitor
. "Please do come in and join us, Your Grace.”

“You are kind as always, Lady Langley,” Scarsdale said in a nasally voice. He took the seat right next to Colin―probably just to annoy him― and folded his arms across his chest while stretching his legs out as if he owned the damnable place. Colin extended his legs in front of him and crossed his ankles. He was sorely tempted to kick off his shoes, but, if he behaved so crassly, his aunt would probably box his ears as she’d done when he was a wild lad. Still, if anyone belonged here in this room with Amelia, he did.

Amelia cleared her throat, her face flushing as she did so. “Thank you for the lovely flowers, gentlemen.”

Everyone nodded but Colin, and suddenly he felt the fool. He could have bought Amelia flowers, except he was not courting her, so why should he? Of course, she loved them, and it would have brought a smile to her beautiful face.

“I sent you the bouquet of red roses,” Shrewsbury said.

“I sent you the larger bouquet of yellow roses,” Edington spouted in a rushed tone.

Scarsdale smiled blandly at both gentlemen then gazed at Amelia for too long and too lustfully. Colin gritted his teeth harder.

“I sent you the thirty bouquets of lily of the valley,” Scarsdale said, his voice too confident by half.

Even as Amelia smiled at the man, Colin imagined how good it would feel to get in the ring at Gentlemen Jackson’s with Scarsdale and show him, punch by brutal punch, what he could do with his thirty bouquets of flowers.

“Which bouquet do you prefer?” the ever overly eager Edington asked.

Amelia squirmed, her gaze darting to each gentleman and coming to rest on Colin. “I do so like roses and the lily of the valley are quite lovely, as well, but my favorite flower is the great hairy willow herb.”

Warmth seeped into Colin’s body and spread through his veins. When Amelia awoke tomorrow morning, the downstairs was going to be filled with great hairy willow herb. He had never purchased flowers for a lady in his life, but he wanted to buy out all the florists in London for Amelia.