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T he mysterious lake monster was the talk of the evening meal. And the evening of chess and charades that followed. And breakfast.

Between the looks that Matthew sent in her direction and the continuous talk, Amelia was about to implode from the conflict of feelings boiling up inside of her. How could she simultaneously be suffering from the worst embarrassment of her life while her heart did somersaults inside her chest?

It was baffling and exhausting.

But when she asked Lillian to call for a carriage into the village, she did not rebuff Matthew’s offer to accompany her.

She would normally have savored the moments of solitude.

But being with Matthew felt different. Aside from the palpitations of her heart, it felt easy.

She could, however, have done without Miss Darrow and Mr. Barnes inviting themselves along.

“I have decided to send the painting to my niece in Sussex,” Miss Darrow declared as they bounced along toward the village. “Which means I must find some other suitable gift for the duke and duchess to thank them for their kindness.”

Duke and Duchess. So caught up in her own life complications, Amelia had almost forgotten that Lillian was a duchess and her husband the Duke of Burnham. She suspected that was how the distinctive pair preferred it.

“I’m thrilled to escort you around town while you search. We’ve never managed to leave the estate in visits past,” Mr. Barnes said, his eyes twinkling with adoration that he pointed right at Miss Darrow. It was obvious the pair was smitten.

Amelia was more than happy to let them carry the conversation as they drew closer to the village.

She’d check for the blacksmith after she posted her letter to Dominique.

The driver stopped them just at the edge of the village, which was little more than a small collection of buildings on the road to Derbyshire.

Miss Darrow and Mr. Barnes departed without delay, too wrapped up in one another to notice they’d left their friends behind.

Amelia shook her head, chuckling softly. She was truly happy for her companion. It was rare to find someone so well-matched, and it was clear that the pair got on famously. Would it extend beyond this week? she wondered.

“You had something to post?” Matthew called her back to attention. He offered his arm, and she took it. They both wore gloves, but it seemed that even fabric was not enough to calm the spark between them.

Her heart beat a dangerously dizzy dance as she tried to explain herself. “A letter to my sister, telling her of our delay. I would not want her to worry.”

Matthew nodded, steering her down the street, presumably to the correct location. His sister lived nearby. He surely knew the village better than she.

“Sisters can be irksome,” he observed as they passed the haberdashery.

Amelia smiled, recalling the feeling of his hand on hers that very first time not more than a few days ago. “Not mine. Dominique is the loveliest, kindest person I know.”

Matthew gasped. “So much for living up to my title of Lord Love.”

She laughed. Matthew making her laugh felt just as good as listening to the mirth spilling out of him. They passed the inn, and then the blacksmith. No signs of life there. He must still be away on holiday. But the knowledge did not cause her the anxiety it had a few days prior.

That was because of Matthew.

“My mother kept us separated for more than ten years,” Amelia said quietly.

Confusion knitted Matthew’s brows together, but he didn’t press.

Such a rare thing, to find someone who did not ask for more.

Which made her want to offer it. “Dominique is illegitimate. My mother created quite a scandal about it, and then used that to keep us apart.”

Matthew did not speak for several heartbeats.

She waited for repudiation. Many acquaintances had spurned her over the years for her association with her sister.

But she would never apologize for Dominique.

And if Matthew was the man she thought he was…

hoped he was… well, she would have her answer now.

He reached across and squeezed her hand where it curved around his arm. “That must have been very painful.”

She nodded, relief lightening the weight on her chest. “It was. It has made me averse to attention, to anything that might bring embarrassment or scandal. It is why I…”

Heavens above, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to unburden herself. She wanted to talk to someone about the colossal mess she’d made for herself—no, not someone. She wanted to talk to Matthew.

“I shall tell you why I was so upset last night.” She exhaled and gathered her courage. “Because I am the lake monster.”

*

Matthew had come to expect the unexpected from his sister’s house parties. But he never would have expected that .

A laugh bubbled out of his chest, cascading out of his mouth and into the space between them. He knew instantly it was the wrong thing to do.

Amelia’s face fell. She jerked her arm free of his and turned, running for the carriage. The village wasn’t busy, but there were enough people that they fell out of her way and then stared after her—and in turn, back at him.

She reached the carriage thirty seconds before him, climbing inside before the driver could scramble around from the front to offer her a hand up.

Matthew didn’t spare the man a word. He swung himself into the seat across from Amelia, who stared at him with a painful mixture of embarrassment and ire.

“You always seem to run away from me,” Matthew panted.

“And you always seem to follow,” she countered.

I always will. The words rose to his lips, but Matthew kept them to himself. Now was not the time.

“I should not have laughed. I apologize,” he said. Direct, clear. Amelia’s lips pinched together, and she stared stubbornly out the window, refusing to look at him. Matthew dropped to his knees on the floor between them. The space was tight, but he did not care.

“I can tell that you are embarrassed. I knew you shied from attention even before you told me about your family. Being mistaken for a lake monster… covered in mud?” He lifted a brow.

Amelia’s gaze snapped to him, but her frown remained firmly in place.

“You can tell me what happened or not. But whatever you wish to tell me, I meant what I said before.”

Amelia’s hands were fisted at her sides. One uncurled, flattening onto the bench at her side. Then the other. “I was looking for a beaver.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

“I fell in the mud in my stockings and swallowed lake water. It made it difficult to call for help.”

“Unfortunate, but I can see how it would happen. The lake is damn slippery this time of year.”

She bit her lip, and despite the hilarity of the moment, Matthew’s stomach clenched with desire. Oh, that it was his lip caught between her teeth. “What do you mean, what you said before?”

“I will protect you.” He meant it even more truly than he had the night before.

Embarrassing shenanigans were precisely his forte.

People expected them from him, the impetuous younger brother of an even more unusual duchess.

“We will devise a plan so that no one makes the connection between you and the supposed lake monster, and we will find a way to make all of it go away.”

Amelia blinked, her honey eyes glowing beneath those impossibly long lashes. And then she was leaning forward. They were face to face, his tall frame brought down because he was kneeling on the floor of the carriage, hers brought up by the bench seat.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, her palms as smooth and warm as he’d imagined. No, she wore gloves. Those were her gloves. Hell, they felt good either way.

But not nearly as good as her lips. She tasted exactly as she smelled—better, in fact. The earthiness was like wine, heady and strong. The honeysuckle of her breath was a nectar he’d savor for the rest of his life.

A familiar heat spread through his body.

It had only taken a few days of knowing her for that feeling to belong solely to her, just like his heart.

She kissed him with the experience of a woman who’d been kissed before, but a fervor that could not be faked.

Matthew slid his fingers up her shoulders, desperate to tangle them into her hair.

But Amelia lurched back. A second later, he realized why.

James’s booming voice was unmistakable, especially when accompanied by Miss Darrow’s girlish giggle.

Matthew forced himself back up onto the bench behind him, putting space between them.

He wanted Amelia in his lap, not on the other side of the blasted carriage.

But he would not be the source of further embarrassment. He would never hurt her in that way.

The carriage door opened and James handed Miss Darrow up.

“Oh! You’re already here! Are you ready to return?” she asked Amelia.

Amelia’s mouth fell open as she slid her hand into her pocket.

“Miss Wartham needed respite from the sun. I will post her letter and then we can be off,” Matthew said. He held out his hand.

Amelia stared at it for several seconds, as if she did not quite understand. Then she withdrew the letter from his pocket and placed it in his hand. Their fingertips brushed. Through gloves, it should have felt like nothing. But to Matthew, it felt like destiny.