“Is all well, my lord?”

Nicholas shot his gaze up to find Morris standing in front of him in the drawing room. He threw back the long-neglected brandy in his hand and scowled at the butler. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to realize that you are not in your right mind, my lord.”

“What are trying to imply, Morris? That I’m the next King George?”

“Not addled, my lord. Just distracted. You have been all day.”

“Sometimes, Morris, I think you forget that you are in my service.”

The butler barely masked a smirk. “Never, my lord. I live, eat and sleep to be in service to you.”

Nicholas shook his head. “How many other viscounts have to put up with such disrespect, I wonder. If I am addled, it is merely because you will not leave me be.”

“Someone must look after you.”

Nicholas peered up at the butler. Since his father had passed away, Morris had been his guiding hand, the angel on his shoulder so to speak, ensuring that he left behind any idea of a bachelor lifestyle and stuck to his duties as a viscount. It was hard for a man to admit that he had been looked after at all but in a way Morris was right.

He was also right about him being distracted. He’d been like this since yesterday.

Since that damned kiss.

Except he didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t a damned kiss in the typical manner. It had not ruined Amelia or forced his hand. No, the damned bit came from the fact it had thrown him. It had changed everything he knew.

It was Lavinia he had loved, was it not? How could he transfer his feelings onto her sister so easily? And yet, those feelings did not feel strange. The moment he’d held Amelia after they’d escaped the river, it had felt incredibly right.

And now, he could not quite fathom the love for Lavinia that he had considered a part of him. True, he no longer loved her but he had considered it would always linger—the memory of it. But when he thought back, he could no longer picture it. He could not see how he had spent hours watching the fair-haired lady whirl around the ballroom. Not when there was a bright-eyed, freckled red-headed Amelia to watch, with her long, elegant figure and that wild look in her eyes that he must have missed so many times.

“My lord?”

Nicholas looked up to find Morris staring at him with an odd look upon his face. “Yes, Green?”

“You are doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“You are distracted.”

Nicholas waved a hand. “So what if I am? Have you not got something useful to do?”

“I only came in to inform you that dinner is ready. The dinner gong rang some half an hour ago.”

Nicholas’ gaze shot to the clock. Morris was right. He had not heard the dinner gong nor had he realized it was half an hour past dinnertime.

“I was simply enjoying a brandy,” he lied. “I shall come through in a moment.”

Morris dipped his head and picked up the empty brandy bottle. “I shall see that this is refilled, my lord.” He arched an eyebrow pointedly.

Nicholas enjoyed a brandy as much as the next man but he did not usually indulge so much. He must have had a good three glasses this evening.

“Thank you, Morris.” The butler rocked on his heels and failed to move. Nicholas huffed out a breath. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing, my lord.” The butler’s large neck worked against his cravat. “It is only...your lady visitors yesterday seem to have...well, caused this distraction.”

“Am I not allowed to be distracted? Does it have to be caused by women?”

“Yes, usually it does, my lord.”

Nicholas stood. “Well, you need not fear. There is nothing wrong. I am not turning into an alcoholic or a lovelorn man. Now stop fussing like an old woman and find yourself something useful to do.”

Morris’ lips pressed tightly into a line of annoyance. “I am always useful, my lord. I merely mean to point out—”

“Of course you are. Now if you excuse me, I find I am quite hungry.”

Striding past the butler, Nicholas took the long way to the dining room. He didn’t mean to insult the old man but sometimes he was worse than a nanny. Morris could do with worrying about himself for a change. He was a fine one to talk about being distracted. He’d been in love with Mrs. Crawford, the widowed farmer’s wife, for years. Fancy trying to lecture him about women. Ridiculous.

He paused in the long gallery. He could not quite face eating in the dining room. With his mother away and no guests at present, it was a quiet and tiresome thing to eat alone with one’s servants watching over one. If Morris had detected his distraction then no doubt had the rest of the servants.

He paused at the portrait of his mother and father. It had been painted only a year before his father had passed away. Despite the formal postures, one could never deny that they were thoroughly in love. It had been their love for one another that had inspired him to look for a relationship like that once he had inherited. Lavinia, it had seemed, would make a perfect viscountess.

He didn’t think he was wrong. She still would. Sweet, kind, classically beautiful, and able to hold conversation with anyone, it was as though she was designed to fill such a role.

But had he really wanted easy conversation and sweet manners?

Moving on from the painting, he sighed. Not any more it seemed. How had he been so blind? How had he not realized there was so much more to Amelia than met the eye?

She played a role, just as he did when he had to perform lordly duties. She was the oldest sister, charged with keeping the other sisters in line. Quite the challenge. The Chadwick girls were all known to be too clever, too noisy, and quite terrible at being in polite society.

He grinned to himself. It was what he liked about them. It was what he liked about Amelia. Underneath that sensible facade was a woman who thrived on excitement and fun. He just knew it.

They were one and the same, and if he thought hard, he’d always known that.

Forcing himself to stroll through the house to the dining room, he paused at the sound of footsteps. If that was Morris coming to nag him, he was going to do something childish and hide. A figure darted past the hallway door and he frowned. It looked like a lad in scruffy clothing, but what was one of the kitchen boys doing up here?

He pressed himself against the wall. The dim oil lamps set on the tables lining the hallway cast enough shadow to keep Nicholas hidden. The boy glanced this way and that then ducked into the study.

Nicholas edged along the hallway and peered around the corner.

“Oh, where are they?”

His frown deepened. That did not sound like a boy. In fact, the intruder did not look like a boy either. The slight curves that rounded the trousers indicated that this was, in fact, a woman. Why had a woman dressed herself up as a boy to sneak into his house? And what was she looking for in his study? If this was a mere thief, there were plenty of riches to be had in the easy-to-access rooms.

“Ah.” The intruder snatched something up and turned. Nicholas pressed himself back into an alcove and waited for her to emerge.

She looked this way and that but did not see him before darting off down the hallway.

“Lad!”

She jolted and squeaked, glanced briefly around, and hastened off. Something dropped from her hand but she didn’t seem to notice in her haste. Nicholas did not bother giving chase. He didn’t need to. It had been no thief. He’d recognized the profile and the lock of red hair instantly.

Amelia Chadwick. But why had she been sneaking about his house? He bent to pick up what she’d dropped. It was one of those letters that he had neglected to read. He kept meaning to but there had been so many and he had yet to find the time.

Nicholas pulled the string binding it shut and read the letter.