An entire week had passed since Amelia had gone to see the results of the fire. A crew of laborers had been hired, and they were now busily removing all of the damaged wood from the structure. In the meantime, she and Coventry had placed an order for cherrywood flooring, crown glass windows and enough marble tiles to replace the ones that were cracked in the ballroom. The rest would simply be polished as well as possible since replacing the entire floor would be an unnecessary extravagance.

This had occupied three of her days so fully that she had allowed no time to meet with Mr. Lowell or Mr. Burton, who’d both come to call on her twice while she’d been out. Juliette and Lady Everly had met with them instead, but their disappointment in having to forgo Amelia’s company had apparently been made very clear, which was why Lady Everly had insisted she let them escort her to Gunther’s for an ice by the time Friday morning rolled around.

The excursion had been pleasant enough, and their interest in the progress she was making with the school had helped a great deal in keeping her focused on their conversation. Now, standing with her sister in the Falconrich ballroom, Amelia saw them make their approach together with another gentleman whom she easily recognized as Doctor Florian.

“Good evening, ladies,” Mr. Lowell said once he and the other men came within speaking range. Mr. Burton was wearing a grand smile as usual, while charm oozed from Mr. Lowell’s smooth countenance. He would no doubt have had the ability to weaken Amelia’s knees a little if it wasn’t for Coventry. The duke had made her completely immune to any other man’s attention. “We have been looking everywhere for you.”

“It is such a crush though,” Burton said. He glanced around at the many people who filled the large room. “You must forgive us for not finding you sooner.”

“Of course we do,” Juliette said while Amelia offered the men a reassuring smile.

Doctor Florian addressed Juliette. “It is good to see you looking well again, my lady.”

“When I told my brother that I expected to find you here this evening, he insisted on seeing you for himself,” Mr. Lowell said with a grin.

Amelia’s gaze shifted to Florian. Brother? She hadn’t realized the connection and never would have without Lowell mentioning it. The two men looked nothing alike. Lowell’s hair was dark, while Florian’s was a rich shade of copper. Lowell’s face was more angular than Florian’s and yet in spite of that, it was Florian who looked most severe. “But . . .” She could not contain her dismay. “You are brothers?”

Florian finally allowed the faintest hint of amusement to show as the edge of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “I chose to be addressed as Florian when I became a doctor in order to distinguish myself from Lowell. It is my middle name.”

“And a fine one at that,” Lowell said with a wide smile. Sobering slightly, he added, “He is very thorough when it comes to his patients. Takes quite an interest in them even after they are fully recovered, which is why he was so eager to see you again, Lady Juliette.”

“I have always felt that tending to the sickly and helping them fight their ailments creates a bond of sorts.” Florian’s expression grew increasingly serious as he spoke. No hint of a smile played about his lips anymore, and his eyes held nothing but deep contemplation now. “I often see people at their worst—I help when no one else knows what to do—and they place their faith in me with the hope that I will do whatever is in my power to find a cure. It is a great responsibility, but it is also the most rewarding work I have ever done.”

“You make it sound like a vocation,” Juliette said with interest.

He gave a curt nod. “Indeed, that is how I consider it.”

“Which is admirable,” Mr. Lowell said. “I do not think many of us manage to find such purpose in our lives, though it does appear as though you have done so too, Lady Amelia. Your efforts to make a school for the poor are absolutely remarkable.”

She couldn’t help but blush a little when all three gentlemen nodded their agreement. “You have said so several times already.”

“One cannot say it enough,” he insisted.

“He is right,” Mr. Burton said. “We have discussed the matter at length and have concluded that no other young lady would have thought to dive into such an endeavor. A dowager might, though she would undoubtedly have been dissuaded by the fire. That you intend to persevere speaks highly of your vision and your insistence on seeing this through.”

“I could not agree more,” Doctor Florian said. “You are the sort of person who stands to change the world. I expect you will achieve great things and that this school is only the beginning.”

“Which makes one envy the gentleman who will one day accompany her on this journey,” Mr. Lowell said with a wink that made Amelia chuckle. “It is unfortunate she cannot marry all three of us.”

“What a scandalous thought,” Juliette said with a grin.

Doctor Florian nudged his brother. “Have a care, Lowell. Can you not see you have shocked them?”

“Then allow me to redeem myself on the dance floor,” Mr. Lowell said. “I trust we can find a minuet or a reel to engage in?”

“Of course.” Amelia handed him her dance card while Juliette gave hers to Doctor Florian.

“Not a minuet or a reel, I see,” Mr. Burton said when it was his turn to pick a dance. He glanced at Mr. Lowell, whose eyes now twinkled with mischievous delight. “You scoundrel.” He wrote his name and then returned the cards to Amelia and Juliette.

Amelia lowered her gaze to study hers and then quickly looked up again. “You have chosen the waltz?” She stared at Mr. Lowell, who offered a boyish shrug by way of explanation.

“Nobody else has done so yet, so why not?”

Why not indeed? When she’d arrived at the ball an hour earlier and met Coventry, he’d quickly excused himself without claiming a dance. She hadn’t seen him since, though she supposed his absence did give her the opportunity to try the waltz with someone else. And since she would probably end up marrying either Mr. Lowell or Mr. Burton instead, it might be wise of her to allow them the honor instead of giving it to Coventry.

Pushing the duke from her mind, she consequently resolved to enjoy the evening with her sister and the three gentlemen who were more than happy to give them their full attention. In fact, they were very polite and attentive, bringing refreshments, inquiring about their interests and escorting them out to the terrace whenever the heat in the ballroom became too insufferable.

“My lady,” Mr. Lowell finally announced. “It is time for our dance.”

Already exhausted from her reel with Doctor Florian, the minuet with Mr. Burton and a cotillion she’d danced with a baron, Amelia did her best to look as enthusiastic about the prospect of torturing her feet some more.

“You are delightful,” he said when he finally held her in his arms and guided her across the floor. His steps were precise, though not nearly as smooth as Coventry’s.

“Thank you. You are very kind to say so.”

A sparkle turned his eyes a dazzling shade of aquamarine. He gripped her hand a little bit tighter while adding more pressure to the spot where his palm met her back. “I only speak the truth, Lady Amelia, and the truth is that you are the most remarkable woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Are you always this charming?”

He flashed her a grin. “Not at all. I’m making a particular effort for you.”

A little discomforted by his flattery and the direction in which she suspected it might be leading, she chose to direct the conversation elsewhere. “Have you ever traveled abroad?”

A frown puckered his brow to confirm his surprise with the unexpected question, but he quickly recovered and he spun her about, leading her expertly between two other couples.

“Yes. I did a tour of the Continent a few years ago right after the war ended. Rome was particularly impressive—more so than Paris.”

“I would love a chance to see those places for myself,” Amelia confessed. “And other, much further destinations, as well, like Egypt and China. The cultures are so vastly different, I hear. They are sure to make an impression.”

“So there is an adventurous streak inside you just waiting to break free,” Mr. Lowell murmured. “I was not aware, though I have to confess that I find this new insight extremely intriguing.”

She wasn’t sure why it would be. In her mind, the urge to explore what lay beyond England, to see the wonders of the world for herself, was such a natural thing she couldn’t imagine not wanting to do so. “And why is that?” she asked.

“Because if there is one thing I do not enjoy, it is monotony, so I welcome adventure with open arms and applaud it.”

Unable to argue with that since she rather agreed, she allowed herself to simply enjoy what was left of the dance while imagining what a life might be like with a man like Mr. Lowell by her side. He would, it appeared, support her ambitions while accompanying her to various parts of the world. Granted, a spark did not exist, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company or that they wouldn’t feel some affection for each other eventually. He certainly wasn’t displeasing to look at, and he did show a keen interest in what she had to say, which was definitely something she liked.

“Please join me for a moment,” he said after the dance had ended. “There is something I would like to say, and it must be done in private.”

Unsure of where this was going, Amelia looked around in the hope of finding a familiar face. “I should probably consult with Lady Everly or the Dowager Duchess of Coventry before allowing you to lead me away like this.” But they were already exiting the ballroom and heading through to a hallway beyond.

“You may rest assured that I have no intention of compromising you if that is your concern.”

“I . . . ah . . . well . . . Would being alone together not lead to ruination anyway?” She’d always been told to keep a chaperone with her.

“Not as long as we keep the door open,” he said, ushering her into a comfortable parlor and carefully closing the door most of the way. “There. See? It remains respectably ajar.”

“I would be more comfortable if we opened it more.”

He ignored the comment and pulled her toward an armchair instead. “Please. Have a seat, my lady. Your feet must be tired from all of the dancing.”

Unable to deny that, she sank down onto the chair with a thankful sigh. He, however, did the most extraordinary thing, dropping to one knee beside her and reaching for her hand. His eyes met hers, and she realized then with alarm that something awful was about to happen—something she now knew with startling clarity that she did not want.

And yet, she felt powerless to stop it as he gazed into her eyes and said, “I have spent an eternity looking for the right woman—a passionate, life-loving lady with whom to share my days and nights.” The “nights” part made her cringe for he followed the word with a slow calculation of her body, his eyes lingering a moment too long on her breasts. “Considering Mr. Burton’s keen interest in you, I feel compelled to act quickly before he chooses to make you an offer.” His hand tightened around her fingers. “My dearest Lady Amelia. It would be the greatest honor if you would agree to be my wife. We will travel the world together just as you wish, I will build you a library with books of your choosing and . . .” He looked away briefly as if overcome by emotion, then turned a blazing pair of eyes on her. “I will fill your life with exquisite passion—of that you have my word.”

She stared at him in absolute shock. This was anything but a simple proposal. This was a declaration of need and desire, which wasn’t at all what she had expected. Apparently the man had been holding back his yearning for her, though there could be no denying it now. He drank her in, his entire body taut with the expectation of her answer.

Which reminded her that it was her turn to speak. What on earth would she say? What could she say? Until she’d realized his intentions, she’d been quite set on marrying either him or Mr. Burton since Coventry wasn’t a realistic possibility. But then every part of her body, every fiber of her being, had rebelled against the hopeful gleam in Mr. Lowell’s eyes. She’d wanted him to stop—had prayed for him to do so in order to let her flee. It had apparently taken a rather impassioned proposal for her to realize that she would not settle. Not where the rest of her life was concerned.

“I am . . . incredibly flattered that you would consider me in such a way,” she managed to say. “But I must decline.”

He stared at her as though her words made no sense, then gathered himself and asked, “Is there something else you require? Something else I can do to convince you?”

“No. I’m sorry. I just . . . I wish to marry for love, and as wonderful as you are and as kind as you have been, I must admit that I do not feel more than friendship for you.”

He averted his gaze. “And Burton? Do you love him then?”

“No. I do not, and if it is any consolation at all, I can assure you that I will not be marrying him either.” She pushed out a deep and agonizing breath. “You see, the trouble is my affections lie with a man who I cannot have.”

His eyes found hers once more, and she saw that he was giving her comment some serious thought. She shouldn’t have said anything, but the hopelessness that now swamped her had made her want to confide.

“Is it Coventry?”

When she nodded, he gave her a sympathetic smile and rose to his feet. She stood as well, her hand still clasped by his, and for a long moment, they simply looked at each other without either uttering a word. Eventually, he took a step back and bowed over her hand, kissing her knuckles at the exact same moment the door to the parlor opened and Coventry walked in.

His eyes found Amelia before shifting to Mr. Lowell who presently straightened himself and released her hand. All pleasantness vanished from Coventry’s features in a second. He marched forward with a glower.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked in that same angry tone Amelia had now grown accustomed to having directed at her.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Mr. Lowell said. He stepped around the duke and headed for the door. Pausing there, he looked back at Amelia. “Thank you, my lady. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The door clicked shut as he exited the room, leaving her alone with a man whose temper had once again risen to an uncontrollable level.

Thomas wasn’t sure what to think. Indeed, he found he could not think as long as combustive heat drummed through his brain in a blazing inferno of violent emotions. Body tense in an effort to hold himself in check lest he send a vase flying against the nearest wall, he stared at the woman who continued to send him into fits of fury. She looked absolutely lovely this evening with her curls loosely piled at the back of her head. A dress sewn from golden silk gauze afforded her skin with a warm hue that made her appear as though she was bathed in sunshine.

He’d welcomed her when she’d arrived but his reaction to her—the quickening of his pulse and the way in which his chest had tightened with longing the moment he’d met her gaze—had prompted him to retreat to the gaming room. Remaining there had seemed like an excellent solution until his mother had sought him out and insisted he make more of an effort. When she’d mentioned Lady Amelia’s waltz with Mr. Lowell, something primal had taken root and he’d not wasted another second in seeking her out. Fortunately, he’d managed to catch a glimpse of her retreating form from the opposite side of the ballroom, so he’d had some idea of where to find her. What had not worked in his favor was the massive throng of guests who’d kept on blocking his path while he’d tried to reach his destination.

And then, once he did reach it, he’d been handed an image that had made his blood boil in his veins. Clarity had fled his mind, replaced by an intrinsic need to toss Mr. Lowell aside so he could take his place. It was an urge that defied all logic—one that warred with his common sense. He could not be more than friends with Lady Amelia, but he would be damned if he was going to allow Mr. Lowell to lay a hand on her instead.

Selfish bastard.

“Have you no care for your reputation?” he asked. Perhaps speaking would drown out his conscience.

“Of course I do.”

He waited for her to elaborate, but she did not, which forced him to ask, “Then what were you thinking to let yourself be alone with Mr. Lowell like that?” When she only glared at him, he took a step toward her. “Answer me, Lady Amelia.”

“Or what?”

Clenching his jaw, he moved closer still. “I could tell Lady Everly,” he threatened. “Maybe that will teach you to take better care since you do not seem to worry about my regard for your safety.”

Amelia’s eyes widened with just the right amount of trepidation. “Please don’t.”

“No?” He came to a halt directly before her. “Then perhaps you will answer my question and tell me what you were thinking to let yourself be alone with Mr. Lowell.”

“I wasn’t. Thinking, that is.”

She crossed her arms, and his eyes instinctively dropped to the perfect swell of her breasts. Flexing his fingers, he fought the itch that compelled him to touch her right there—to explore the soft shapes with his hands. His gut tightened at the thought of taking such liberty with her, his mind creating all sorts of arguments in his favor. Except she’d been here with Mr. Lowell, and she had not looked the least bit displeased by the man’s attentions. That thought grated.

“What did he want?” Thomas asked, though he supposed the man had wanted exactly the same as what he did. Again, he clenched his fists and fought for some measure of calm.

“He wished to make me an offer of marriage.” She spoke so matter-of-factly she might as well have been speaking of current events or the weather. “I declined.”

Relief swept through him on a wave of unequivocal joy. It banished most of the anger, returning him to a state of comfortable relaxation though he still had to understand her reasoning. “Why?”

“Because I do not love him.” Her answer was simple and to the point. “I know your mother and Lady Everly were quite set on him, and frankly, so was I until a few minutes ago when I realized that marriage ought to accomplish more than satisfying everyone else’s dreams.”

“I see.”

“Do you really?” Her tone was not the least bit pleasant but rather accusatory.

“You wish to make a love match, and since you have not found the right man with whom to do so, you will continue to wait for him to come along.”

“And will you chase him off, as well?” she asked without the slightest hint of surrendering the subject anytime soon.

Thomas braced himself. “Of course not. What a ridiculous thing to ask when you know I want you to make a happy match for yourself.”

She stared at him, her breaths coming in the same uneasy way his had the moment he’d burst into the room. “You are unbelievable!”

“I—”

“You have done nothing but stand in the way of such a possibility, frightening Mr. Burton with your dukely authority and then telling me he isn’t good enough when he most certainly is. And now, with Mr. Lowell, you act as though he has committed some terrible wrong when all he did was extend the most wonderful proposal a woman such as myself could possibly hope to receive.”

“He was charming, was he?” Thomas felt the edge of his anger begin to return.

She pinned him with a glare. “Incredibly so.”

“Then perhaps you should reconsider and accept him after all.” Incensed by her high regard for the man, Thomas leaned in, crowding her with his presence.

“Perhaps I should!”

Her head was tilted back so she could look up into his face, her breaths hitched with the undeniable irritation that poured off her in waves. She looked like a valkyrie about to decide his fate—a stunning image of strength and self-preservation.

Perhaps it was his reaction from earlier, that sting of fear that had shot through his limbs when he’d thought he might lose her to Lowell. Or perhaps it was simply the fiery beauty that spilled from her soul. Whatever it was, he found himself dipping his head and closing the distance.

He’d made a valiant effort to keep a respectable space between them, but all of that crumbled the moment his mouth met hers. It happened so swiftly she had no chance to escape. For a second, he contemplated retreat, but then her lips moved and her body curved toward his. Her arms found their way around his neck while little sighs rose from her throat in a sensual plea for more. It made him wonder why the hell he hadn’t kissed her sooner.

Spreading his hands across her back, he felt her gown ripple beneath his touch. She clutched at his head as if needing that extra bit of closeness. Adjusting his position, he obliged, deepening the kiss in an intimate exploration that sent hot blood thundering through his veins. She tasted divine; the fruity flavor of expensive champagne still lingering on her tongue. But what drove his fervor higher was perhaps her eagerness, for it proved she was just as hungry as he.

His hands slid lower, discovering the body that hid beneath her gown; a slim waist, the flaring of hips, and the soft flesh of her bottom curving against his hands. He dug his fingers into it, forcing her hips toward his in a powerful insinuation of what he wanted. Her gasp mingled with his breath as he kissed her harder, his mind wandering to a wide variety of possibilities—to a conjured image of fewer clothes between them, of her spread out against his sheets while he . . .

A clock chimed, announcing the hour, and Thomas’s thoughts came to a jarring halt. What the hell was he doing? This was Huntley’s sister he was kissing, not some widow with whom he could share a night of pleasure. Demands would be made if this went any further, and that was without considering the very real possibility of Huntley killing him. And then there was his life to think of. It was complicated and messy. The last thing he needed was to add a wife to it. Which was exactly what he would have to do if they got caught in such a fervent embrace.

He released her so fast she almost stumbled. “Forgive me.” It was all he could think to say. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t you?” The passionate look in her eyes faded until they began to shimmer with a horrible hint of tears.

He felt like an ass. “Amelia,” he said. “My job is to keep you safe, not to compromise you. But we have been spending a lot more time together lately and I . . . I would not be a man if I had not considered kissing you at least once. And if I can so easily succumb to temptation, then others will too, which is why I have been so intent on protecting you from situations such as this.”

She looked increasingly horrified. He was reeling in his effort to explain. All of his words were coming out wrong, but to think he’d just started down the path that had led to his own sister’s death—the concept that he wasn’t any better than the man who’d compromised Melanie—made him want to run from Amelia as fast as he possibly could.

How could he have succumbed to his baser urges with her when he of all people ought to have known better? Disgusted by his behavior, he told her frankly, “This cannot happen again. You must know that.” He had to tell her the truth. “I am not . . .”

The man you think me to be.

He ran his hands through his hair, knowing what had to be said but fearing the effect it would have on her opinion of him. But since it was the right thing to do, he determined to try anyway. “My life is complicated and—”

“I understand.” The wretchedness with which she spoke was devastating.

“I don’t think you do.” He held out his hand, uncertain of how to offer comfort without making matters worse. “Amelia . . .”

She turned away from him and walked to the door. Without uttering another word, she opened it and slipped out into the hallway beyond, leaving Thomas behind with a wretched feeling of loss and regret.