Page 22 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

F our dances later, Amelia needed a rest. She always left her fifth dance free to find refreshment or simply sit and rest her feet. Graham was by her side immediately once the music ended, and she discovered she enjoyed the lingering touches and secret smiles they shared when they found something amusing. The way he seemed to dote on her. Was this pretending, or was this the beginning of actual friendship between them?

“They’re opening the doors to the cooler air,” he murmured in her ear. Her skin prickled with bumps. Maybe not just friendship, then. The longer this went on, the more she caught herself staring at his mouth, and she was really beginning to be annoyed with herself for how quickly her body had betrayed her after one kiss. One kiss .

She shouldn’t be swayed so easily, but there was something about Graham that slipped under her defenses. Perhaps it was because he was safe. Yes! He was safe because he was ultimately not interested in her, and there was nothing more than physical attraction. That was all. She knew he didn’t want her or her money. This removed all the usual obstacles that made her keep her emotional distance from gentlemen.

But Graham, her pretend fiancé, was no threat to her freedom, and that only made it too easy to feel these confusing emotions. Like wanting to kiss him because that kiss had been revolutionary. Or to feel held, because with her emotions so chaotic, always trampling her for one reason or another, she could use a hug. And if he truly understood the weariness she felt down to her bones, he likely needed a hug as well. He needed someone who understood exactly why he was hurting and would be a great comfort. Like her.

But also, thinking on everything Fran had said and her newfound knowledge , she knew there was more to experience. And with Graham, there was no way he’d let anything happen that would hurt them. Perhaps she could convince him that a little more kissing would only help their fake engagement appear more real until they no longer needed it.

“A walk in the cooler air would be nice, then I will trounce Sir Daniel in the card room.”

He smiled wickedly, and she felt that smile, if such a thing were possible, inside her body, where banked coals of curious desire glowed brighter. If she were to convince him to be a little reckless, he couldn’t know she was doing the convincing intentionally. He’d never agree to it then.

Many of the guests had already escaped to the chilled evening air, taking in deep breaths and sighing with relief. All those flowers and fountains had added to the humidity and heat of the ballroom, and the crush of people had grown to uncomfortable levels. Graham led Amelia down the steps, where footmen lined the walks with lit torches to ensure proper behavior and adequate light. The Duchess of Lumond would entertain no scandal on her premises that would mar the reputation of her parties and her daughters.

For once, Amelia was not interested in flaunting her rebellious streak and chose a bench in view of everyone taking the air, while Graham stood to the side. Amelia slipped off her dancing shoes under her skirt and flexed her feet with a wince.

“Feet sore?”

Amelia nodded. She kicked out one of her dancing slippers to show him the delicate creation.

“Why do ladies wear such flimsy dancing shoes?”

“How else will I float and flounce like a will-o-the-wisp without scraps of fabric for slippers?” Amelia said. “My marriage prospects depend on my ability to appear utterly without solid substance to trick unsuspecting men like yourself.”

He chuckled. “I am utterly bamboozled.”

“Bamboozled. Such a silly word.”

“Indeed. Daisy and I have a game where we report to each other the most bizarre words we can discover and keep score. She is winning.”

“And you let her win.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll be displeased with me.”

Amelia raised a brow. “Now I do have something to blackmail you with.”

He folded his arms. “What about my light-fingered habit?”

“The scorn of a sister is far more devastating.”

“True.”

Amelia slipped her shoes back on and stood. “My feet feel better.”

“Are you ready to crush a man’s spirit?”

Amelia’s heart fluttered. Why did he have to be so sweet to her? Wait, was that sweet?

“Always.”

Few women were permitted in this card room, but she received an invitation to join the fray, or rather, to join a table seated across from Sir Daniel. He gave her a smile that made her stomach feel like she’d swallowed grease.

“Do you know how to shuffle cards, or would you like me to help you?” Amelia asked, the very picture of concern.

The few of Sir Daniel’s friends in attendance laughed at her quip. Sir Daniel handed over the deck and leaned back, folding his arms, still smiling.

Amelia shuffled the deck the way Sam had taught her and then the way she’d taught herself, which made Sir Daniel’s smile slip, especially because she did it without breaking eye contact with him. Behind her, Graham stood like a sentry. She lifted her chin and dealt the hands.

Sir Daniel eyed her carefully and the tension around the room quieted as they played. Amelia kept her cards close, being watchful of Sir Daniel, his maneuvers, his confidence as each hand was dealt. He was stealthy, tricky like a fox. He won the first round of Commerce and shrugged with a pouty and false frown.

“Deeply regretful,” he said as his cronies chuckled like he’d said something witty.

Amelia smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes. “One more chance, please?” she pleaded. His gaze narrowed on her, but he nodded.

“Of course. Who am I to refuse such a dulcet request?”

“Thank you,” she said, grinning as she took the cards he dealt.

He winked at her and Amelia winked back.

Then, round after round after round, she watched the joy leave his face more and more completely. His color deepened, his confused frowns turned to frustration and then anger as Amelia took him for everything he had. Well, not everything. He was smart about his wagering, but she took every coin he’d won that night from the poor fools he’d played earlier as well as the silver fox pin in his cravat.

But unlike most gentlemen who loathed to lose to a woman, Sir Daniel’s anger lifted swiftly as Amelia accepted her winnings, holding out her hand for the silver pin.

Sir Daniel came around the table and sat on the corner, his gaze wandering over her.

“I underestimated you.”

“Yes. Don’t do it again, and perhaps next time we play, you won’t lose so much.”

He half-smiled and cocked his head, his thick dark hair pomaded into dashing waves falling over his brow, no longer so tidy after he’d been running his hand through them in aggravation. His dark-brown eyes lit with interest.

“Will there be a next time?”

“I haven’t yet decided.”

He set the fox pin in her palm and covered it with his hand. “Let me know when you do.”

Amelia pulled her hand from under his and considered the pin. “You know, on closer inspection, it’s not to my taste. You can keep it. Goodnight, Sir Daniel.” She set it down on the table and stood and turned. Sounds of appreciation from onlookers followed her as she walked away. Graham stood by the drinks table where he’d remained for the final two rounds, sipping whisky, not watching her but looking past her. His expression was dark.

“He doesn’t look crushed,” he said.

“I know. I think he liked it.”

Graham set his glass down and took her hand, leading her out of the room. Her heart took off excitedly, far more so than when she’d beat Sir Daniel over and over and over. He did not take her back to the ballroom, but down a quiet hall, farther away from the music, to a quiet alcove shrouded in shadow next to a large window with a padded bench.

Amelia felt her excitement ebb away and she prepared herself for a lecture. He must be displeased with her card playing for some reason and was looking for a quiet spot to scold her properly. But she couldn’t control how Sir Daniel felt about the game. It wasn’t her fault that he was flirting with her.

He tugged the tie of the curtain, and it fell over the alcove.

“What are you doing?” Amelia whispered. “Do you know what this looks like?”

“No one saw. I made sure. Why? Are you familiar with being led to a private alcove?”

“Yes. A few men have tried and learned never to do so again. But your intent is undoubtedly not lascivious; therefore, I can only assume you want to berate me for what happened in the card room.”

“I’m not particularly happy with the way Sir Daniel was looking at you, no.”

“I don’t have control of his eyeballs. It’s not my fault.”

“Of course it’s not your fault.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“I just needed a moment.”

Amelia folded her arms. “Moments can be taken in the retiring room. Why am I here?”

He stayed silent. His face was a mask of shadows. Amelia reached for the curtain.

“Don’t leave.” He grabbed her hand.

“Are you mad? We can’t be caught like this. Not only for the obvious reasons, but because we will never be invited again, and my brother will want to know specifically why.”

“We’re engaged. It doesn’t matter.”

“We’re not really engaged, so it does matter. We can’t compromise each other. There is a future after this where you may want a spouse, as will Sam and your sis—”

He tugged her close and covered her mouth with his hand. “Just be quiet for a moment. I know all those things. I know all the stakes. I just wanted to be alone with you to calm myself before I did something daft and broke his hand for touching you.”

Amelia drew in a breath. Her lips twitching against his palm, even gloved, made the act feel intimate. She nodded in understanding, and his hand fell away. He was being jealous and possessive for real. He felt those emotions because of her. She didn’t know what to do or say with that information, so she remained still and silent as their breathing filled the space of the alcove. He still held her hand. She was suddenly very aware of her body and how close they stood—how just shifting her weight from foot to foot could bring them closer. He was a looming shadow, but he did not frighten her. She wanted to reach out and touch him.

Her feet ached still, and when she tried to roll one ankle to take the pressure off her heel, she lost her balance. She fell against him, and his arm came around her.

“Sorry,” she said. “My feet are still sore.”

His head bent near her ear, like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. Amelia turned her head toward his, mistaking the distance, and her lips brushed his chin. She hadn’t meant to, but then he swooped in, catching her mouth, groaning quietly into the kiss as his arms brought her tightly into him and her head tipped back.