Page 15 of The Lyon Whisperer (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #79)

C hase came awake for no discernible reason. Without even opening his eyes, he knew Amelia was gone.

Testing his theory, he patted the cold and empty bedsheets beside him in confirmation.

Slitting his eyelids open, he turned his head on the pillow toward the vacant spot where Amelia had been. Enough hazy morning light seeped in from behind his drapery to reveal the rumpled bedcovers, and no wife.

Despite his irritation—he had told her she need not depart his bed when they had occasion to share it—he smiled.

For Chase, marriage had been nothing but a distant thought for another time. For one thing, restoring the viscountcy and the barony required both focus and a staggering amount of money—most of which he had to generate before allocating to repairs and infrastructure. In short, he had not much to entice a new bride, aside from the assurance of bearing a title.

For many a highborn lady, the promise of a title would suffice to lure her into marriage, and the more prestigious the title the better. Lady Millicent Huxley, his one-time sweetheart, now the Countess of Tully, could attest to that.

Thank God he hadn’t been heir to the viscountcy at that juncture of his life, or he might have ended up bound to the woman.

He had long known he would eventually have to do his duty and sire a legitimate heir, which would require him to take a wife. He simply saw no benefit in doing so before that time. In the meanwhile, taking on the occasional mistress saw to his physical needs, enabling him to avoid the risks of tying himself to a lifelong partner.

He’d had no desire to wind up like his parents, ensnared in a living hell of a dismal, toxic union. It had taken his uncle’s outlandish behavior, and the possible threat of bankruptcy to push him into marriage with Amelia.

That and his unwitting fascination with the chit.

He was beginning to think he and Amelia would get on quite well together. Certainly they dealt well with one another in the bedchamber.

He rolled onto his side, eyeing the connecting door between his and his wife’s bedchamber, and contemplated her suppositions concerning his reasons for marrying her.

She had been off the mark—but not wildly so. He hoped their discussion put an end to her curiosity on the matter.

The muted sound of a door closing within his wife’s chamber reverberated through the wall. Odd. Remarkably similar to the last time she disappeared from his bed.

Suspicion and curiosity had him flinging off the bedsheets, and stalking to the adjoining door. He grasped the lever and swung the door open wide.

Amelia stood poised, bedsheets grasped in one hand, in preparation for crawling into bed.

She flicked a brief glance toward the open door, then chirped in alarm, jerking upright. She stared at him. “My lord, what on earth are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same. Where have you been?”

“Been?” she aped. Her violet eyes drifted over his naked body in a slow, yet thorough, sweep.

Just like that, he grew hard.

Her thick fringe of lashes fluttered, but she did not peel her gaze off his manhood, and that did not help matters.

For pity’s sake. He crossed toward her.

At his approach, she tore her gaze off of his erection and met his eyes.

He grasped her shoulders. She was cold as ice. What the devil? “Where have you been, Amelia?”

Her small icy hands fisted between them and the cold tip of her nose grazed his shoulder.

“I was hungry,” she mumbled into his chest. “I went down for a glass of milk. Why did you burst into my chamber?”

“I’d hardly call it that. I awoke and heard you moving about. I grew curious.”

She shivered and snuggled closer.

Lust unfurled in his guts. He’d made love to her half the night, and he wanted her like he hadn’t had a woman in a year’s time.

He had thought making love to her would lessen his desire for her, but in fact, just the opposite had occurred.

“You snuck out again,” he murmured into her nightcap.

He regretted the outburst immediately.

“I did no such thing. I told you. I was hungry. I didn’t want to wake you, and besides, there’s no door lever on my side so I couldn’t return even if I was so obliged.”

Sheer contrariness urged him to argue. He clamped his jaw shut and kept silent.

She had the right of it and besides, he didn’t need her to sleep beside him, he was merely curious as to her proclivity to return to her own chamber. He would prove his indifference to both of them, right now.

He released her and turned for the adjoining door which remained ajar. “Go back to bed. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her before closing the door with a bit more force than intended.

He could admit in the privacy of his own thoughts, the forlorn expression on her face had a satisfying edge to it.

Amelia had attended her fair share of balls, but never had she looked forward to one the way she did tonight’s.

Chase held her gloved hand, steadying her as she climbed the carriage stoop.

She sat, arranging the skirts of her royal-blue velvet ball gown as Chase took the bench opposite hers.

Though the coach’s black-lacquer exterior gleamed, she noted, not for the first time, the seat cushions could do with replacing. She bit her lip and refrained from saying so.

She’d gathered from her and Chase’s recent conversation he took his financial responsibilities seriously. Thus, he either did not have the available money, or he saw the expense as a luxury rather than a necessity.

If only he had access to her dowry.

How odd that her father refused to relinquish the funds at once. Perhaps if she had a word with him about the matter. If she saw him tonight, mayhap she would broach the subject.

She regarded her darkly handsome husband seated across from her.

He gazed out the small window, apparently lost in thought, as if he had forgotten her presence entirely. He’d seemed much the same at breakfast the past several mornings.

The distance between them, precipitated by him each morning, was completely at odds with the way he made her feel when he took her in his arms, as he had every night since the first time he made love to her.

She could not fathom how the passionate and tender man who brought her body to heights of ecstasy under the cover of night showed her little more than polite affection in the light of day.

Indeed, she had begun to hope they would share a bond of stunning intimacy. Those first few days, he had shared feelings and thoughts with her about many things.

It had all changed after that night, nay, that morning when he shut the dividing door between their chambers in her face.

Oh, all right, not exactly in her face. But when he barged into her room, she had the distinct impression her absence from his bed had bothered him. The thought had pleased her, even if it simultaneously alarmed her.

When he drew her in his arms, she thought he meant to crawl into bed with her to… er …sleep a few hours before they rose for the day.

Instead he’d left.

It had been for the best, or so her rational mind reminded her repeatedly. She did not want him to develop a habit of visiting her in her chamber.

He never mentioned the incident again. Nor had he broached the subject of her spending the entire night with him since then, and, of course she could not do that.

She stared at him from beneath her lashes, unable to look away, though the odd compulsion made her ache inside. She could barely steady her breathing. He was utterly magnificent to behold in his black superfine evening attire. The bright white of his shirt and cravat emphasized the healthy cast of his skin and gleaming blue-black of his hair.

She thought of how that thick hair tickled her nose last night as he nibbled her earlobe, among other things and her insides went molten.

With nary a clue as to the direction of her thoughts, he turned his attention to her. “The weather appears fine for an early evening drive. We should arrive at the Collier ball in less than two hours’ time. I remind you, I will be quite busy, talking with certain members of the nobility.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“What of your friends? Will any of them be there to help fend off the sharks?”

“Lady Harriet and Margaret will both be there, and Lady Georgina also promised to put in an appearance, though she generally does not go about in society.” At least not where eligible bachelors were likely to be in attendance.

“Good. As I said, my aunt has agreed to look after you, and I believe your father will be there.”

She nibbled her lower lip. She wondered if he would be happy to see her or if she would manage to do something to annoy him. “Yes. I am looking forward to speaking with him.”

He nodded, then gave her a sharp look. “Amelia, I want to make one thing clear. You are not to discuss the particulars of the financial arrangement he and I made concerning our marriage.”

She gave him a bemused smile. “I have no intention of discussing the particulars. I merely wanted to suggest he relinquish some of the funds owed you—”

“Absolutely not,” he clipped out, his expression mulish. “I will have your promise on the matter.”

She sniffed, feeling decidedly deflated. “Very well. I shall not broach the matter of my dowry with my father.”

The fleeting smile he sent her, however dashing, annoyed her. She was not a dog to be issued an order, then patted on the head when she complied. She shifted her attention to the passing scenery, determined to ignore him for the remainder of the journey, since that was, evidently, his preference.

“I don’t wish you to worry over such matters, Amelia. I have everything in hand.”

Unable to resist, her gaze slid back in his direction. “You sound very much like my father.”

“Really? How so?”

“Father has very stringent notions about what constitutes proper conversational topics for young ladies.” She forced a laugh though it held no humor. “In truth, he would not welcome such a discussion.” She sighed. “I would not welcome the lecture that came as a result.”

His dark eyes, so distant a moment ago, softened on her.

She meant to say nothing more. Instead, the words poured out of her. “We have never been close, as much as I would have liked to be. The two of us are more like oil and water. He seems to find my very nature offensive. As it is well-established he adored my mother, I assumed she would have been totally unlike me.

“When I discovered several of her journals several years ago, pilfering a box of her things which had been packed away, I held onto them a long time before I dared open even one. I feared I would discover how different we were in temperament, and it would be like…” She plucked at her skirts, trying to decide how best to word her fears. “Like finding proof I had been born into the wrong family.”

Finally, she stopped the flood of words and folded her gloved hands in her lap. What was she thinking, talking nonsense about her parents? Nerves, no doubt, owing to the fact they would soon make their entree in society as husband and wife.

He probably thought her ridiculous.

“I often felt the same,” he said, his tone blasé.

She glanced up and found his crooked pirate’s smile aimed in her direction.

Her heart lurched.

“I didn’t mind in the least. Neither of my parents had personalities I aspired to emulate.” Curiosity gleamed in his dark eyes. “Well? What did your mother’s journals reveal, Amelia?”

She sent him a tremulous smile, as inordinately warmed by him not scoffing at her as by his interest. “Apparently my mother and I have the same…” She broke off, clearing her throat. She’d been about to claim the same free spirit ran through both she and her mother. The same outspokenness, the same affinity for art and theatre and less-than-proper literature, the same love for animals. Understanding her husband might not approve of her list of attributes, she summarized. “It turns out I am very much like her.”

He gazed at her, watchful and expectant.

Time to redirect, she decided. “Apparently she loved to dance as much as I do, my lord.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Are you, by any chance, hinting that you’d like to dance with me tonight?”

“I believe I am.”

“Then I shall make certain we do.”

Chase locked Amelia’s small hand into the crook of his arm as they crossed the graveled courtyard and made for the broad front steps leading into the Brook Street mansion.

Guests hemmed them in from all sides. Tonight was going to be a crush, he thought irritably. With parliament only just back in session after a several-week break from city life, members of the upper crust society had returned from the countryside in droves, ready to see and be seen.

He frowned down at Amelia’s shining mane of black curls as she gazed about with avid interest.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving her to fend for herself in a crowd like this—hungry for gossip after a fortnight of slow-paced country life. The ton did relish the latest on dit .

But his wish to stay by her side went deeper than that, he admitted with sullen awareness.

She’d looked bloody delectable sitting across from him during the interminable coach ride from Wimbledon. The sight and smell of her, all fresh and feminine and delicate and yet somehow simultaneously strong, pummeled the defenses he’d done his damnedest to erect against her charms ever since leaving her in her bedchamber at dawn earlier this week.

Since that day, he’d striven to nip his weakness for the woman in the bud. He had no idea what else he could do aside from breaking off physical relations, and that, he could not bring himself to do.

Her gemstone eyes, her midnight-black hair, her porcelain skin, her rose-colored lips he might manage to turn a blind eye to—in time. Pretty women who had no substance tended to lose their shine—at least in his experience.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending, Amelia had substance in droves. Her fierce sense of self, combined with a fearless vulnerability she revealed to him again and again, burned through his defenses like acid through paper.

Tonight, when she spoke of her father’s disapproval, he’d had to tamp down on a growing sense of anger toward the man. The more he learned, the less he respected the way the earl had reared his beautiful, sensitive daughter.

He’d also wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss her sweet mouth. To hold her and tell her no man, be it her father or the king of England, would ever make her feel less than perfect ever again.

Damn it, who was he becoming, thanks to her? At this rate he wouldn’t recognize himself in six months’ time.

He did not want to foster a weakness for the woman, and thereby leave himself open to manipulation and loss of control. But the truth was, all he desired at this moment was to drag her back to the coach where he could ravage her mouth and body all the way back to Warren House. He’d be willing to bet, once there, he’d want to have her all over again.

“What is it?” she asked softly as they made their slow progress up the steps toward the front door.

“I don’t follow.”

She looked around as if assuring no one listened. “You’re frowning rather intently.”

He was. He cleared his expression. “Thinking about what I wish to accomplish tonight,” he muttered.

She gave him an encouraging smile. “You will know exactly what to do and say to accomplish your goals, sir. I have no doubt.”

His goals. He hadn’t been thinking about soldiers. No, he’d been caught up with thoughts of her. Again.

After submitting their invitation for the Collier footman’s cursory inspection, they passed through open double doors into a marbled foyer mired with party guests. Perfume, cologne, and sweat permeated the heavy air. Chase used his larger frame to forge a path into the glittering ballroom.

Inside, he urged her along the perimeter until he found a relatively uninhabited square of floor.

“Do you see anyone here with whom you wish to speak?” Amelia asked. She gazed up at him with wide, guileless eyes.

He smiled down at her, charmed despite his best efforts. “Let us deposit you with my aunt before I go to work. She’s bound to be here somewhere.”

His height meant he could see above most of the people present. He scanned the crowded room for Aunt Francine and Uncle Harry.

Occupied with his task, he did not see the fair-haired, curvaceous woman bearing down on them until she stood directly in front of them.