It wasn’t particularly warm, Amelia decided the following day when she entered the tent that had been erected in her garden. The fund-raising event Lady Everly was helping her host was proving to be a remarkable success, however. Most of the people who’d been invited had arrived, many of them providing gift baskets that had been raffled off a few minutes earlier. She would have to count the revenue later, but with several items going for one hundred pounds, she knew she would be pleased with the result.

Shivering in response to a chilly breeze, she drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. At least the sun was shining, but there was still a brusqueness to the air that made her wish she would have worn a spencer.

She reached for a jug of lemonade.

“Allow me,” a deep voice said at her shoulder.

Turning, she saw it was Mr. Lowell who’d approached. Amelia moved so he could have the honor of pouring. “How have you been?” he asked, handing her a full glass.

She took a sip, then told him about the fire and the accident, which she felt he had a right to know about as an investor.

His face became a mask of concern. “Thankfully you are all right though. It could have been worse.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.”

An amicable pause followed until he asked, “What about you and Coventry? Are there any developments there?”

She looked away and began regarding the finely dressed people who mixed and mingled on the lawn. Coventry was conversing with his mother. She’d greeted them both upon her arrival, but had quickly excused herself to come here—an easy escape from the man, but not from her feelings.

“No. Not really.”

Lowell stuck one hand in his pocket and looked out over the crowd. “That is a pity.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “I am not the sort of man who would wish you ill because you turned me down. On the contrary, I like both of you well enough to hope that everything works out to your advantage. And Coventry is a good man. He deserves to find happiness.”

She frowned and glanced back at where he stood. Lord and Lady Wilmington had joined him and his mother. He was laughing now in response to something that was being said. “He has never struck me as being particularly unhappy.”

“That is because you have nothing with which to compare. He used to be far more”—he seemed to struggle with finding the right word, eventually settling on—“light-hearted.”

Amelia shrugged. “Most people change with age.”

“I agree. But Coventry changed overnight. He went from being a carefree friend whose company was always easily available to a man who suddenly chose to avoid Society as much as possible.”

“He lost his sister.” And the mother of his child had died soon after, if Amelia’s calculations were correct. His heartache must have been unbearable.

Lowell expelled a deep breath. “Yes, he did.” Finishing off his drink, he set the glass aside and excused himself, leaving Amelia alone to ponder their exchange.

Allowing her gaze to wander to where her sister stood, she decided to go and join her, since recent events had prevented her from spending much time in her company.

But just as she prepared to do so, she heard a woman say, “He has to be the handsomest man I have ever seen.”

Amelia paused. She glanced around but saw no one, then realized the voice must have come from the other side of the tent canvas. A different voice responded with a girlish giggle. “Can you imagine the coup if either of us were to win him?”

Curious, Amelia sipped her lemonade and stayed where she was, ignoring the rule that said eavesdropping was rude.

“Mama would be thrilled,” the first voice said. “To win a duke . . .” She sighed as though speaking of a great romance.

Amelia’s ears perked up. They obviously weren’t speaking of her brother, since he was already married, which had to mean that they were referring to Coventry. Who else could it be unless there remained a young and eligible duke whose acquaintance she hadn’t yet made?

“It is unfortunate that looks aren’t everything,” the second voice spoke. “I am not sure I am ready to raise another woman’s child.”

There was a pause. “It certainly is a great responsibility.”

“I rather think it an uncertain bargain since no one I know has ever set eyes on the boy. Coventry keeps him hidden away for some reason.”

Aha! So they were talking about Coventry. Amelia’s pulse leaped.

“He is a protective father.” Another pause, and then, “Anyway, it is pointless for either of us to even consider him in earnest since it is highly unlikely that he will ever want to marry. From what I hear, his mistress was a stunning beauty of great intellect. He loved her dearly and was heartbroken when she died. The boy is all he has left of her.”

Amelia’s heart stilled.

“I know. It’s so unbearably tragic.” There was what sounded like the ruffling of skirts. “Perhaps we should set our sights on someone else then. What do you think of Viscount Tibs?” The women, two young ladies to whom Amelia had been briefly introduced earlier, stepped forward and began heading toward the house while continuing their discussion. Neither looked in Amelia’s direction. They remained oblivious to her presence.

She stood as if frozen, her fingers tightly curled around the glass she still held. Coventry had loved and lost. His sister and his mistress. To think of the choice he’d made to raise his son alone—the awesome responsibility such a task embodied—was incredible. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might have been emotionally attached to Jeremy’s mother or that her death could have broken his heart. It should have done, but it hadn’t, and the thought of it now made her lips tremble with pain. She suddenly felt her eyes prick. Her chest tightened around her heart.

“Amelia?”

She blinked, startled to see that Coventry now stood before her. How could she not have noticed his approach? Attempting a smile, she tried to push her maudlin ponderings aside and don the mask of the efficient no-nonsense person she’d taught herself to be.

“I was just about to join my sister. Would you like to come with me?” Her voice sounded far too chirpy.

Coventry frowned. He was looking at her with an expression so serious it felt excruciatingly uncomfortable. “Are you all right?” His frown deepened, and she instinctively averted her gaze. “You look as though you may be about to start crying.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said with a forced bit of laughter.

“Did someone say something disagreeable to you?” He clearly wasn’t believing her. “I saw Lowell keeping you company earlier.” Severity clung to his words. “If he—”

“You needn’t worry. He did not make another proposal or say anything untoward. On the contrary, he was perfectly courteous.” She felt a sudden need to pick up her skirts and run. Instead, she squared her shoulders and focused on taking deep breaths. What on earth was happening to her? She sensed she was losing control.

“Then what is it?”

She met his gaze. “I don’t know,” she told him plainly, “I feel quite unwell all of a sudden and . . . I think I would like to retire to my room.”

He stared at her for a long drawn out moment as if considering whether or not to press her further. Eventually he gave a curt nod and said, “Very well. Allow me to escort you inside.”

“But what about all the guests? This is my event. I am the hostess. I cannot simply leave.”

“Of course you can,” he assured her, already leading her toward the terrace. “Lady Everly and I can easily step in so you can go rest.”

Entering Huntley House, he guided her into the hallway and toward the stairs.

“I don’t know what came over me.” Something had to be said. Anything to fill the unbearable silence that had settled between them as they walked.

“Are you sure it wasn’t something Lowell said?”

She gave a decisive nod. “Yes.”

“Then what was it?”

They’d come to a halt at the foot of the grand staircase, and she became aware of the expectant look in his eyes as he studied her face. How could she possibly tell him her heart was breaking because of what she now knew? How could she ever explain the pain that came from knowing he was bound to a ghost—a woman against whom she stood no chance of winning?

Unable to find the right words and unwilling to try, she shook her head. “A lot has happened recently. I fear it has exhausted me.”

He drew in a breath and slowly nodded. “Very well then.”

She thanked him for his attentiveness before climbing the stairs on wooden feet while wondering why it felt as though she had lost him when he had never been hers to begin with.

Surrounded by darkness, Amelia stood by her bedroom window that evening, gazing up at the wide expanse of night sky dotted by sparkling flecks of silver. She had left her home in St. Giles almost three months ago. So much had happened since then. Her brother had fallen in love with an earl’s daughter and married her. Amelia and Juliette had been introduced to the queen—an incident that had almost ended in disaster when she’d walked too close to a vase. Thankfully, Gabriella had caught the precious item and stopped it from falling, but not without Amelia being reminded of how little she belonged in this world of wealth and power where even the smallest misstep could lead to disaster.

It had gotten better over time. Her lessons had helped her improve upon her speech and her comportment. These past three weeks while Raphe had been away, she’d taken on the task of building a school, had changed her life in a more meaningful way. She finally felt as though she had a purpose—as though her existence could be about more than just looking pretty, saying the right things and making a good match. It had rebuilt the confidence she’d lost upon overhearing the cruel remarks being made about her and her siblings several weeks earlier. What those young ladies had said did not matter. What mattered was her ability to make a lasting difference in the world and how well her efforts to do so had been received by others.

She would be lying if she denied how well it pleased her to know that Coventry had been impressed by her efforts. The chance she’d been given to spend more time in his company had given her something else as well—an awareness of the sort of attraction that could exist between a man and a woman. He’d made her feel beautiful and desirable. He’d taught her that standing up for what she believed in would earn the sort of respect that would not be easily forgotten. So although he might never be able to love her as she loved him, she would always cherish the kiss they had shared and the words he had spoken when he’d told her how much she tempted him.

A movement outside drew her attention. She looked down, squinting through the darkness. For long seconds after, she saw nothing and was about to turn away and return to her bed when a figure stepped out from the shadows on the opposite side of the street. It was a man, his silhouette suggesting a sturdy build. Pausing, he looked toward Huntley House, then raised his hand to his hat and tipped it in her direction before walking away.

A chill went through Amelia. He couldn’t have seen her, could he? She was shrouded in darkness and mostly hidden behind the thick curtains. And yet, she felt as though he’d been looking straight at her. Worse than that, that he’d wanted to make her aware of his perusal.

Drawing back, she wondered if he might be one of Bartholomew’s men. If so, his presence could only be perceived as a threat. Which meant that actions would have to be taken. For starters, she would have to let Coventry know as soon as possible, a decision that led her straight back to Coventry House the following day, with her maid accompanying her on the fifteen-minute walk she’d decided to take in order to get some exercise. She’d spent far too much time sitting down recently, either on chairs or on sofas or in carriages.

But as they made their way toward Wimpole Street, the hair at the back of her neck began to rise. She looked over her shoulder just in time to catch a flash of movement. Her breath caught and she quickened her pace.

“I feel as though we are being followed.”

Heather gave her a look of concern. “Perhaps we ought to hire a hackney for the remaining distance, my lady.”

They turned a corner. “I do not see an available one at the moment, but I think you are right. We shall flag down the very first one that comes into view.”

As it turned out, every hackney that rolled by was already fully occupied, and since they were taking the shortest route, the streets were not busy enough to allow for the sort of traffic that one might find on Oxford Street or Piccadilly. Amelia looked back once more and spotted a man, his head bowed low as he walked some distance behind them. She wondered if it might be the same man she’d seen last night. Perhaps she ought to stop and confront him?

No. That would be a terrible idea—the sort of idea that neither Raphe nor Coventry nor anyone else of sound mind would ever approve of. If he did work for Bartholomew, as she suspected he might, he’d be dangerous too. It would be foolish to risk a confrontation with him. Especially when she had Heather to think of, too.

So she kept her pace brisk and breathed a sigh of relief the moment she stepped inside the foyer at Coventry House. The butler took her bonnet and then showed them through to the parlor. “Please wait here while I inform His Grace of your arrival,” he said before exiting the room once more.

“My lady,” Coventry said when he came to greet her seconds later. “What has happened? My butler said you looked distressed when you arrived, and I have to say that even now your complexion appears a bit pale.”

“I apologize for coming here like this without invitation. I know how busy you are and—”

“Amelia,” he told her gently, disregarding propriety in spite of Heather’s presence.

Feeling a flush of heat creep into her cheeks, Amelia glanced toward her maid and was grateful to see she was keeping herself busy with a tiny book that she must have brought along in her reticule.

Coventry’s hand pressed gently against Amelia’s elbow, causing her to jump. She returned her attention to him as he nudged her toward the other side of the room so they could speak more privately. “You are always welcome here. There is no need for you to concern yourself about that. So please tell me what it is that has upset you.”

Inhaling deeply, she allowed the tension she’d felt on her way over to ebb a little. “There was a man in the street last night. It looked as though he was watching Huntley House, and when he eventually left, he tipped his hat toward the window where I was standing.”

“That is no small matter,” Coventry said. His brow knit with concern.

“And then today when I walked over here, I had the distinct feeling that I was being followed.”

“After seeing that man last night, you should have taken a carriage.”

“You’re right.” His eyebrows rose with surprise. “I just didn’t want to acknowledge the possible danger, and with the weather as pleasant as it is and being in Mayfair, I did not think that there would be any threat.”

He studied her a moment. “Did you see someone today who looked suspicious?”

“There was a man with a downcast face who kept walking some distance behind us. He disappeared right before we got here.”

Muttering something that sounded like a curse, Coventry raked his fingers through his hair and considered her. When he spoke again, he sounded more serious than ever before. “No more walks. If you need to go somewhere, you take the Huntley carriage or my carriage with drivers who can be trusted.”

“What about the park? Surely I will be all right going for walks there as long as someone comes with me.”

“Not unless that someone is me.” He must have seen her look of dismay because he quickly added, “Your safety is paramount. We must not risk it for any reason. Not as long as there may be a threat and certainly not when that threat may very well come from Bartholomew.”

“Do you suppose he might be trying to rattle me?”

“It is possible. And if that is the case, then I fear this is only the beginning. In which case, you must remain vigilant.” His fingers found hers in an intimate caress that pushed most of her worries aside, replacing them with helpless longing instead. “If anything were to happen to you . . .” Stepping back, he shook his head. “Nothing will, as long as we take some precautions.”

“Can I still go to Vauxhall on Saturday?” Lady Everly and the dowager duchess had suggested the outing since Amelia and Juliette had never visited the pleasure garden before. “I am rather looking forward to it.”

“I think that will be fine since you will be part of a larger group. I hear that Burton and Lowell will be there, as well.” He winced just enough to convey his displeasure.

“Lady Everly thought it prudent to invite them.”

“I take it she does not know of Lowell’s proposal or the fact that you turned him down.” When she shook her head, he said, “It surprises me that he would agree to keep your company after that.”

“Perhaps he has set his sights on Juliette instead? Such a thing is possible.”

“I suppose it is.” His eyes turned a deep shade of chocolate, and then a smile touched his lips, affording him that dashing look that invariably weakened her knees. “Thank you for your kindness toward Jeremy yesterday. The gift you gave him was very thoughtful. He has made great use of it since.”

“Did he manage to solve it?”

“Yes. It didn’t take him long. And the pleasure he found in doing so was unmistakable. I . . .” He paused, and Amelia spied a look in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It spoke of deep comprehension and resolve. He darted a look in Heather’s direction before returning it to her. “There are things I must say to you, Amelia—things that will hopefully help you understand why I have been so reluctant to pursue a deeper attachment with you. It is not that I do not care for you, but that I—”

“Please.” She couldn’t imagine what might have prompted him to tell her this now, but she had to stop him before he broke her heart all over again. She could not bear the thought of having to listen while he spoke of the love he’d felt for his mistress and how he would never feel that kind of love again. She’d come to terms with it—accepted it—but she had no desire to be tortured by it.

“There is no need for you to explain.”

“Of course there is.”

She shook her head. “I would rather you didn’t.”

A frown appeared upon his forehead. “Amelia—”

“Oh! I thought I heard voices,” the dowager duchess said as she entered the room.

Stepping away from Coventry, Amelia went to greet her. “I came to inform your son of an incident.” She then relayed a brief version of what she’d told Coventry earlier about the man she’d seen in the street.

“How unnerving,” the dowager duchess said with a look of distinct alarm. She addressed her son. “You must escort Lady Amelia and her maid home from here. I absolutely insist upon it.”

“My thought exactly,” he murmured.

“But first,” the dowager duchess said, “I do hope you will stay for luncheon. We are having mushroom pie and mackerel.”

Thanking her for the kind offer, Amelia walked with her to the dining room while Coventry followed behind. She’d escaped his explanations, thank God, but she was still very much aware of his presence and of the thoughtful way in which he watched her later during the ride home. It was almost as if he was plotting and planning something, though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it might be.