Page 17 of The Lyon Whisperer (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #79)

L ord Tully’s complete disregard of her request to end their dance, as evidenced by his decision to lead her in the opposite direction from her friends, caught Amelia so completely off-guard she did not utter the first protest—for a full two seconds.

Then her brows snapped together. “Lord Tully, I’m afraid you did not understand me. I wish to be returned to my friends.”

The unrepentant, rakish grin he sent her flummoxed her even more. “Come now, my dear, you never asked that. I would have remembered. You asked for a rest. I rather fancied one myself.” He lowered his voice, and his expression turned somber. “A modicum of privacy to continue our conversation.”

She strove for calm. “I see no reason for privacy between us, my lord. We are mere strangers. Now kindly return me to Lady Culver and my friends this instant.”

He chuckled as if her words amused him greatly.

A frisson of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her calm veneer. But she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her cowed.

He steered them away from the crowd, face set in concentration, as if he had a particular destination in mind.

Soon they neared the shadowed edge of the dance floor, where the strains of the music barely reached and very few guests mingled. The night air from a pair of open French doors whispered over her heated skin. Her unease heightened.

“Here we are,” he said, pressing her toward the doors.

He meant to lead her onto the private terrace. It was too much.

“Lord Tully, stop,” she ordered in her most stern voice.

He paid her no heed.

Something told her when her husband advised her to behave with the utmost discretion, he did not have a private tete-a-tete between her and his close friend on a remote terrace in mind. She attempted to dig in her slippers, but the soft leather soles made no purchase on the polished marble.

He wrapped one strong hand around her upper arm and pulled her outside into the moonlit night. Once there, he released her but blocked her path back inside.

“How dare you, sir.” She rubbed the aggrieved skin. “Kindly step aside.”

“Aren’t you the least bit interested in what I wish to say?”

“No, I am not.”

“I beg of you. Indulge me, madame? I have only your best interest at heart.”

She glanced around her. Unless she wanted to leap the railing and scramble through hedges to reach the lawn, she had no real choice in the matter.

“Very well. Go on, but do be quick about it.” She made no effort to hide her irritation.

He sent her a slow smile and edged closer.

She stepped back.

He took her hands in both of his. “First, my sympathies.” He held fast to her fingers when she would have snatched her hands free.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I know it cannot have been your fondest aspiration to marry Culver.”

Anger snapped through her and, with effort, she pulled her hands from his grasp. “If this is your idea of a joke, I must tell you, I do not find it funny.”

“Not at all. I know it’s going about that the two of you had a long courtship, but I know that to be patently untrue.”

“You opinion is entirely your prerogative, sir,” she said coolly.

“If you’d endured his presence for months on end, his true nature would surely have driven you off. You see, I know your husband very well. As I said, we attended school together, both Eton and Oxford.”

“A moment ago, you claimed friendship.”

“A small stretch of the truth. However, my wife and he were close friends. Did you know the two planned to wed? At least that is what Culver led her to believe.”

“I do not know what you are trying to imply. I do know it was you who married her, quite without warning as I understand.”

He smiled. “Ah. Good. It comforts me to know you have your eyes open and seek to know the truth of Lord Culver .” He finished on a sneer.

“Lord Tully, I will not stand here and listen to you slander my husband. Kindly return me to my friends. I expect my father has joined the group and will be searching for me.” She had no reason to think so but felt saying so strengthened her position.

His green-gold eyes glittered with intense emotion. “Not until you hear me out. Yes, as you say, I married Culver’s intended, but I did it because of the predicament your husband put her in.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“She was an innocent. Culver seduced her by convincing her he loved her, then afterward cast her aside. She came to me, distraught. I spoke to Culver on her behalf. I told him he should do the right thing by her. He refused.”

“I see. At which time, you stepped in and married her yourself?”

“Someone had to do the honorable thing.”

“Even if that’s true, what good does telling me now do?”

He sent her a beseeching look. “I merely wanted you to understand my stake in this. There’s more I need to tell you.”

How much time had passed, she wondered? Her absence was bound to be noticed by now. “Go on, then.”

“I said I knew yours was not a love match because I know why he married you. Are you aware your husband’s finances recently took a major hit thanks to his own abominable mismanagement of the viscount’s resources?”

She lifted her chin. “You refer to the recent arsons?”

He sneered. “Arson, you say? A likely story. An excuse.”

She said nothing, hoping if she ceased responding, he might allow her to reenter the ballroom.

“I shall be blunt. He married you for money, just like he intended to marry Millicent for hers—until he realized he would inherit his uncle’s title.”

“I thought you said he seduced her and cast her aside.”

“ After ,” he replied, eyes flashing with brief frustration. “Lady Culver, the man you married is a charlatan. He’s not above using seduction to draw his quarry in. But don’t be fooled. It’s your inheritance he’s after, else why—” His words cut off abruptly and he slid her a pitying glance.

“Else why, what?”

“Why rush into marriage with a woman so thoroughly on the shelf? The man has not one title but two. Granted, he’s no earl, but he could certainly have caught one of the season’s freshest young faces.”

She swallowed as his words hit the mark. Hadn’t she reached the same conclusion days ago?

“Come now, darling, I’ve no wish to insult you. I merely wanted you to be aware of the facts as they concern you. Culver needed money. Marriage to you provided that. How he convinced the earl to part with you so quickly is the only mystery here—one I fully intend to solve.”

“Why?” she asked, fighting for composure. Somehow talking with Chase had convinced her there was something more to their marriage than a mere business transaction. By his own account, she believed he chose to marry her because he found her particularly to his liking. Had he made that part up to spare her feelings?

He had withdrawn from her markedly ever since they’d consummated their marriage. Although, he had not seen fit to exit himself from her bed—yet.

“Why, you ask?” Lord Tully recaptured one of her hands in his. He bent over her fingers, never breaking eye contact. “Both of us owe our current loveless marital statuses to Culver. It’s only right we form a partnership and take whatever solace we can from one another.

“Not only do I promise to share whatever information I uncover, I beg you to come to me should you need”—his slumberous hazel eyes drifted over her again—“anything at all. I assure you that you won’t be disappointed.”

She lifted her chin and sent him a steely smile. “Right now, I need to be returned to my friends.”

He pulled a silver-gilded card from his waistcoat and pressed it into her hand. “Your wish is my command.”

Chase stood beside Fallsgate, projecting an air of outward aplomb.

Inside, he seethed. He’d returned from the card room in search of his wife only to find Amelia gone.

He then had the misfortune of catching sight of her in no other than Tully’s arms as he partnered her on the dance floor. By now the two should have danced the length of the room and back, but he’d seen hide nor hair of either of them.

He didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

The demure polonaise they’d danced had ended, as well.

Bloody hell. The musicians had struck up a waltz.

He lifted his lemonade to his lips and, as unobtrusively as possible, scanned the floor again. He spotted them.

Tully wore his usual cocksure grin, looking for all the world like a man with one thing in mind. Seduction .

Chase had heard whispers of his many conquests, and of the cuckolded husbands he’d left in his wake. The man was uncommonly good looking and wore debonair like a second skin. But inside, Chase knew, he was nothing more than a cold-hearted snake.

Surely Amelia would not succumb to the man’s charms, however liberally applied?

His fisted his free hand at his side, and his nails bit into his palm. He forced himself to relax, unfurling his fingers as they neared.

If Tully thought to whisk Amelia past, he had another thing coming. Chase would bar his path in if necessary.

His aunt’s cheerful voice rang out, as she, too, caught sight of Amelia. “Here she is, everyone. Dancing, of course.”

The women’s exchange of indulgent smiles told him his wife had, evidently, spent much of the night on the dance floor.

He resisted the urge to glare at the lot of them. Why had no one told her of the social expectation limiting her to one dance, per partner, per night? Aside from dancing with her husband.

Not that he had danced with her even once, even though he’d promised. Was that what this was about? Had she danced twice with Tully to spite him, because she was angry with him?

By tomorrow, her transgression would be front page news.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to stalk forward and retrieve his wife.

Abruptly, Tully swung Amelia in a graceful arch, leading her off the dance floor where their group stood. He bowed over her hand with a flourish that had Chase gritting his teeth.

Tully tucked her gloved hand into his elbow and sauntered toward Chase and Fallsgate, a smug grin on his face.

He had to admit the two made quite a pair. Tully, with his tawny-haired good looks, and Amelia’s princess-perfect stature, gleaming black hair and violet-blue eyes, seemed downright made for one another.

It irritated Chase. No. More than that. It infuriated him.

Then he noted something he cared for even less. Amelia looked wrong. As beautiful as ever—she would be elegant in a brown potato sack—her porcelain complexion seemed devoid of color, and her demeanor lacked its usual vitality.

His anger surged. What had Tully said to upset her? Every instinct he possessed urged him to grab the man by his very-expensive-looking, overly flamboyant cravat and shake a confession out of him.

Not that he was free to do so. Not here, and especially not in front of Fallsgate, whose eyes he felt burning into his profile.

The man missed nothing. Undoubtedly, he’d noted his daughter’s social faux pas of dancing not only twice, but twice in a row with the known philandering rake.

Meanwhile Chase was tasked with getting Amelia in line. That probably ruled out his creating a scandal on his own.

That damned bet was turning into an albatross round his bloody neck.

With effort, he smiled at Tully with polite indifference as he and Amelia drew to a halt directly before him and Fallsgate.

“Lord Fallsgate, Baron,” Tully said by way of greeting.

Fallsgate inclined his head to Lord Tully, then eyed his daughter, a slight smile on his face. “Amelia.”

She dipped a curtsy. “My lord.”

Tully’s watchful gaze followed her every move. “I’ve been acquainting myself with your lovely bride, Culver. My heartfelt congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Chase replied, locking eyes with Amelia as she straightened.

Though he could read nothing in her too-still expression, he had learned an absence of emotion on Amelia’s face bespoke a torrent of feeling under the surface.

“Kind of you to deliver her, Tully. Now if you don’t mind—” He reached forward and peeled her fingers off of Tully’s arm. Not exactly the thing, but at the moment, he didn’t give a bloody damn. “May I have this dance?”

Without another word, he led her onto the dance floor.

He waited until they were far from Fallsgate, Tully, and Amelia’s female compatriots to speak to her. “My aunt tells me Mr. Defoe escorted you into supper.”

Amelia stared straight ahead, her posture rigid, her thick-lash fringed eyes fixed on his simply tied cravat. “Yes. I’d hoped…” She shook her head as if to refute whatever she’d been about to say.

“You’d hoped?”

Finally, her violet eyes met his. He glimpsed a flash of, what? Hurt? One moment there, the next gone. Or perhaps he had imagined it.

Frustration knifed through him.

“I hoped to cross paths with you,” she said softly.

The cold suffusing him since seeing her in Tully’s arms lessened. “Did you?”

She nodded once and resumed her study of his cravat.

“And what became of Mr. Defoe? I would have liked to see him, to ask after his welfare since returning.”

She glanced up sharply. “He learned of an impromptu meeting between yourself and men from your regiment.”

“There was no such meeting.”

She bit her lip, and her expression turned considering. “Perhaps they missed you.”

“Who told you of this so-called reunion?”

“I’m not sure.” A fine pink stain rose up her neck.

“You just lied to me,” he hissed. He was certain.

Her breath caught audibly.

“Who told you?”

She lifted her chin. “I believe it was…yes, it was Lord Tully who mentioned it.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I see. And what did you think of Lord Tully, Amelia?”

“What do you mean?”

Anger rifled through him. Had his wife of mere days succumbed so easily to Tully’s snake-like charm? Would the man never cease to be a thorn in his side?

“You did dance with him. Twice.”

She licked her lips. “Perhaps if you had been present—”

He huffed out a laugh. “Are you really going to blame your indiscreet behavior on me? When I expressly told you I would be busy, what to expect tonight from the ton, and how not to behave?”

Mutinous anger darkened her eyes to the color of the sky at dusk. “I did nothing wrong. I went out of my way to avoid any and all scandal. I danced with whoever asked—”

“I heard as much.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you going to accuse me of behaving with impropriety because I danced, my lord?”

He fixed her in a hard stare. “No. But I will demand you tell me what you and Tully discussed.”

“Nothing of import, my lord.”

Another lie. What on earth would behoove her to choose sides with that blackguard over him? “Amelia, hear me. You will not speak with Lord Tully again.”

She was silent a long moment. “I did nothing wrong,” she finally whispered.

“Nevertheless. I will have your promise.”

She said nothing.

“Look at me, Amelia.”

She did so, albeit with obvious reluctance.

He softened his expression with effort. “The man is not to be trusted. I will have your promise.”

“Very well, my lord. I shall endeavor never to speak with him again.”

Endeavor, she said.

It galled him, but it was past time he reined in his temper. They were on the verge of creating a scene. “As you have, apparently, danced all evening, you must be tired. I myself am exceedingly bored. It’s past time we call it an evening. I’ll give you a moment to say your goodbyes.”

Amelia stood beside her tall, forbidding husband, jostled by the many guests to her right and left awaiting their vehicles. She wore a bland smile while precariously close to tears. She was well and truly miserable.

On the cusp of Lord Tully’s caustic words, Chase had all but accused her of impropriety. How could he have done, and after the valiant effort on her part not to draw any undue attention to herself, too.

True, she had danced with Lord Tully—twice—but the alternative, dashing across the dance floor in a snit evidenced by all to get away from the man had not seemed a better choice by any means.

Not to mention Chase, with his innate sense of honor, would have felt compelled to question the smooth-talking earl, and who knew what might happen then? She’d read enough romantic novels to know just how easily a duel might ensue as a consequence of an altercation between two hot-headed males.

The sound of a man clearing his throat jarred Amelia from her thoughts.

She turned to see her father sidle up beside her.

He nodded at both her and Chase but lowered his voice for her ears only. “Amelia, my carriage is next to reach the front of the line. I wanted to say how pleased I was to see you and Lord Culver in attendance tonight.”

She blinked in surprise. “Thank you, Father.”

He shot a troubled gaze at Chase. “You are faring well at Warren House? Marriage suits you? Lord Culver’s not too hard on you?”

Too hard? Like accusing her of impropriety when she’d devoted her entire evening to not stepping out of line?

But of course, she couldn’t say that. Besides, her father sounded truly concerned for her welfare, and she hated to put a damper on his efforts. The thought he cared whether or not she was happy in her marriage warmed her as nothing else could have tonight. Some of her dismal mood melted away.

“I am very well, sir. And you? I have missed you,” she added without thinking. Her father was not one for overt shows of affection.

The crowd shifted forward as another round of guests boarded their carriages.

She braced for her father’s brusque dismissal.

“And I you,” he said instead, his voice rusty. “The house is exceedingly quiet without you.”

With that, he bid her and Chase a hasty farewell and trotted for his carriage.

Amelia watched after him, staring long after his shiny lacquered vehicle lumbered off.

Perhaps something good had come of this evening after all.

“Here’s ours now, Amelia,” Chase said.

He took her elbow, and she slanted him a look. He no longer seemed quite so angry, not that he had any reason for being angry in the first place.

She sniffed and allowed him to hand her up into the carriage.

He joined her a moment later, rapping on the trap to tell the driver they were settled. The driver had left the oil lamps burning on low. Neither of them turned up the lamps, and they set off in virtual darkness.

Amelia stared out the small window as the carriage rolled slowly down Lord and Lady Colliers’ graveled drive.

She supposed she was being a mite unfair. She had outright refused to tell him what she and Lord Tully discussed. It occurred to her she might simply tell him what the earl had said…But no. She couldn’t.

It came down to pride, she realized. She knew the two of them were not a love match, and yet…

The way Tully described Chase’s motive for marrying her made perfect sense, and made her feel perfectly awful. Had Chase merely chosen her as one did low hanging fruit? If so, if he lied about finding her appealing, everything she’d seen as beautiful and magical between them seemed tawdry and calculated.

She could put the question to Chase again. Only, she did not want to hear him admit he had chosen to marry her based on her dowry and the simple fact she was a practical spinster. The thought he had seduced her into their marital bed merely to gain her compliance could hardly be born.

“It will be a long ride tonight if we are to travel in silence, Amelia,” Chase said from the bench across from her.

“What would you like to talk about, my lord?” she asked in a voice that was wooden even to her own ears. So be it. She didn’t have the heart to attempt to sound blithe or pleasant. “I wouldn’t like to broach any subject you might find objectionable.” She knew she baited him, but could not seem to stop herself.

He issued a muffled curse. “Amelia, why are you acting as if my requirements of you have changed?”

“Requirements,” she repeated softly. As if she were nothing more than a domestic servant. “My apologies. I shall endeavor not to make the mistake again.”

But she knew she would. She had never been particularly adept at rising to the standard of paragon people like her father and her husband demanded.

“That came out badly. What I meant to say is…” He broke off and gave what she interpreted as a grunt of frustration. “Did you have a nice time tonight?”

She smiled wanly and hoped he could not make out the glisten of tears dampening her lashes. “I had a fine time. Together, the ladies and I managed to put it about you and I had a long courtship. Some even said…” She bit her lip. Some said it was a love match. That you knew you wanted to marry me the moment you laid eyes on me.

“Yes?”

She shook her head and forced a bright smile. “It does not signify. Suffice it to say we accomplished what we set out to do. Now, if you don’t mind, my lord, I am exceedingly tired, as you rightly assumed. I would like to close my eyes and rest.” Not waiting for his approval, she promptly did just that.

At least, she closed her eyes.

She did not relax. She felt his eyes on her, and in so doing, felt her own traitorous body stir to life.

She wanted his arms around her. Wanted his kisses and his raspy breath in her ear. Yes, it was going to be a long, long ride home.