“Wh-what are you doing here?”

His eyes darkened as he stared down at her upturned face. “I should be asking you that question.” The familiar pleasantness with which he usually spoke had been replaced by a chilling austerity. Feet planted slightly apart, his solid stance afforded him a commanding look that stretched up his long legs to a broad torso and shoulders that now appeared wider than ever before.

Tiny shivers rose up her spine, sinking beneath her skin in an icy cluster of dread. He was no longer the kind and jovial man she’d fallen in love with, but someone else entirely—someone she’d never met before. “Please. You’re—”

“Tell me,” he demanded. The words rushed past his teeth in a dangerous whisper.

Drawing back, Amelia tugged on the wrists he still held while doing her best to stay calm. He remained immovable, his strength much greater than hers, and although she knew he would not hurt her, she couldn’t help the panic that claimed her in the face of such dominating power.

“Let me go.”

Confusion widened his eyes until he dropped his gaze to where he held her. Something painful came alive in his gaze, and without warning he released her as swiftly as he had grabbed her, then took a few steps back. There he stood now, scowling at her, while his chest rose and fell with strenuous movements. The pain she’d caught sight of had vanished, banked beneath layers of harsher emotions.

“You lied to us about being unwell.” There was nothing accusatory about the way in which he spoke. He was just stating a fact, and yet the manner in which he said it shrouded her in guilt.

“I’m sorry, but I had to come here.”

“Without escort?” Straightening his posture, he flexed his fingers and started moving toward her once more. He didn’t stop until he was just a handbreadth away, and it took every ounce of self-control Amelia possessed not to flee from his angry advance. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

The force of his voice struck her like blow. It tore through her insides, shredding her composure in a way that made her feel small and vulnerable. Never in her life, not even when she and her siblings had faced starvation, had anyone made her feel quite so wretched. And she hated him for it in a way that sent blood pumping through her veins at an alarming speed. It heated her insides to boiling point until there was nothing to do but release her anger just as he had. “Don’t yell at me!”

His eyes flashed but he didn’t retreat. “I suppose I should give you a prize instead? For excellence in devious behavior?”

“How dare you?”

Towering over her, he leaned in closer. “I dare because I am in the right. You, however, are a schemer, and if there’s one thing I cannot abide, that is it.”

“What a coincidence since me taste fer pompous men is equally lacking.” Oh bother! He’d riled her so much she’d lost her cultured tongue.

“You insult me even though you are the one who lied about your whereabouts and then proceeded to traipse around London without a chaperone dressed in whatever that is?” He made a wild gesture with his hands. “Only to come to this godforsaken place which, by the way, happens to be located right next to one of London’s most dangerous neighborhoods.”

Well . . . when he put it like that, she supposed he might have a little reason to be upset. Still, his tone of voice was not to her liking. Nor was the way he was looking at her, as if she’d just murdered someone and he’d found her standing over the corpse with a bloody knife in her hand.

“What business did you have with Mr. Gorrell?”

He asked the question more calmly than he had the previous ones, but rather than make her wary, it prompted her to think of the whole situation with greater awareness.

“Were you spying on me?” She hadn’t had time to think about how he’d arrived here yet because of how shocked she’d been.

The anger that had followed had been an equally large distraction. But now? What she felt was . . . well, she wasn’t really sure what it was, to be exact. Of course she understood his outburst, but she also resented him for not giving her a chance to explain. And to think he’d been following her, watching and waiting without bothering to make his presence known, just so he could have this moment in which to catch her in the wrong, made her start to wonder about what she’d ever seen in him in the first place.

“I prefer to think of it as keeping an eye on you, Lady Amelia.”

“So that would be a yes.”

A vein began to tick at the corner of his right eye while air pushed itself in and out of his nose with each heavy breath. Turning away, he thrust his hands through his hair, which was darker inside the dimly lit house, before circling around to face her once more.

“Do not try to deflect.” When she raised her eyebrows, he muttered a curse. “I promised your brother that I would protect you. Figuring out what you might be up to seemed like the right approach. The only approach. Because what if something had happened to you during this little outing of yours? What if it hadn’t been me who’d walked through the door and discovered you here on your own, but a ruthless cutthroat instead?”

Amelia’s confidence wavered once more as he came up behind her to quietly murmur, “Your plank of wood and your fists would have been just as useless on such an individual as they were on me.”

Shuddering, she closed her eyes against the grim reality of which he spoke. “I should have locked the door after Mr. Gorrell left.”

His breath seemed to cease. And then, “You never should have come here in the first place.” Remaining at her back, he stood like a solid threat against all of her hopes and aspirations. “You should have gone to Dorset House for tea. And you should not have lied.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She’d regretted the lie from the very beginning, but had found it necessary.

“Because what if . . .”

His breath vibrated against the side of her neck, as if speaking had become more difficult. Holding herself very still, Amelia tamped down the strange displeasure she felt at his nearness. It was so apart from how warm it had been just yesterday when they’d danced.

“What if I’d had to inform your brother that you’d been hurt?” A chill curled around her spine as he let those words sink in. “The risk was there, Lady Amelia, by your own design.”

Gasping, she stepped forward, away from him, and took a deep breath before letting herself address him. “I am not a helpless female.” Balling her hands into fists by her sides, she turned to stare at him, waiting for him to react.

“No. You are far worse than that,” he said, surprising her with his comment. “You are the sort of woman who thinks herself immune to danger. After all, you used to roam about St. Giles without incident, so you think you can go on doing so—or at the very least thwart your attackers by some ingenious means that won’t leave you beaten or violated.”

The harsh words struck her like a whiplash licking at her chest. Still, she refused to cower. “I see your point,” she said with a calmness she’d thought had long since deserted her. “But now it is time for you to see mine.”

“By all means. Convince me that coming here as you did was not the most reckless thing in the world.”

Steeling herself, she met his gaze. “It seemed like the most appropriate place for me to meet with Mr. Gorrell.”

“And why is that?” he asked with a sigh of exasperation while raising his eyes to the ceiling.

“Because it made it easier for us to discuss this building.” She drew a deep breath and then added, “I am in the process of purchasing it from Mr. Gorrell.”

Surprise flooded his features, filling Amelia with a sense of victory for as long as it took him to digest what she’d said. It dwindled as soon as he’d grown accustomed to the idea and chose to ask her, “For how much?”

“I don’t see why that might be relevant.”

The vein next to his eye began twitching again. He clenched his jaw, and Amelia instinctively took a step back. “Mr. Gorrell’s services do not come cheap. He is in fact quite likely to fleece his clients unless they know how to handle him. So if I were to imagine how your negotiations went, I would suppose he mentioned a reasonable price that you then accepted. Later, he probably told you there was another interested party who wished to offer more. My question to you is whether or not you’ve agreed to pay the final asking price.”

Since her heart had dropped to her feet, Amelia could no longer feel it beating inside her chest. Instead, she felt hollow inside. She’d been conned. Dear God, how could she not have seen it? Her eagerness to finalize the purchase had made her stupid, and now, Coventry was about to realize just how foolish she’d truly been.

Oh, if only her mind had not been filled with ideas of helping people. But she was who she was, and now that she could afford it, she wanted to make a difference in the world. Except there was little chance of that happening if she continued to be blinded by her ultimate goal. And now . . . Her throat worked against the awful threat of hot tears. No! She would not be reduced to a weeping female. Not as long as Coventry was watching. Hell, she’d rather die than let that happen.

“Well?” he prompted.

Bracing herself against the critical stare that was sure to follow, Amelia raised her chin and told him plainly, “I’ve paid three thousand for it.”

Contemplation kept him silent for a couple of seconds before he spoke again. “Considering the size and state it is in along with the location, three thousand is not as bad as I had feared. In fact, I might have invested that sum myself had I known the house was on the market.”

“That is not the full sum.”

His brow knit in a frown, his shoulders bunching slightly as he leaned toward her. “Then what is it?”

Focusing on a point to his right, she forced out the words that had to be said. “You were right. Mr. Gorrell did precisely as you have described. He asked for three thousand, which I brought with me today.”

“I won’t even begin to wonder at how you procured such a large sum.”

“Huntley gave it to me.” Coventry’s mouth dropped open. He clearly hadn’t expected this. “It is an advance on my allowance.”

“So then your brother . . .” He shook his head before leveling her with a frank stare. “Huntley knows about all of this?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Unfortunately, she failed to keep her voice level.

Coventry was quick to notice. “And what manner would that be?” he asked while raising an eyebrow.

Knowing she’d probably already lost whatever respect he had for her, Amelia blew out a breath and confessed. “He knows I came across an investment opportunity—one that would likely be gone by the time he returns from Paris.”

“He never said a word of it to me.”

“Perhaps because he and I didn’t speak of it until the day before he was leaving? It was all quite hectic amid the packing. You know, he did try to convince me to wait, but when I told him how serious I am about this venture and how certain I am of its profitability, he allowed me to pursue it since I will be spending my own money and the only person who stands to lose is me.”

“Then why sneak about?” Coventry asked. “If your brother knows about this, why hide it from me?”

“Because you aren’t like him.” The words flew from her with a biting undertone that seemed to drain all the air from the room. Regretting the way in which she’d said it, Amelia tried to explain. “You’re from a world that doesn’t allow women any kind of independence. Had you known, you would have insisted on coming with me, of hovering over my shoulder while I spoke to Mr. Gorrell. Worse, you would probably have taken over the negotiations and denied me any chance of seeing to this project on my own.”

“Considering how things turned out, that would probably have been an excellent thing.”

“No, it wouldn’t have!” How could she make him understand when he was so bent on seeing the worst? “As I said, your suspicions about Mr. Gorrell were correct. He mentioned another offer at five thousand and I countered at five thousand five hundred.”

“Christ! What the hell were you—”

“Let me finish, will you?” His glower conveyed his reluctance for her to do so, but he jerked his chin in agreement nonetheless. “Ever since moving to Mayfair, I have felt . . . lost. I don’t belong with the aristocracy, and I don’t believe that I ever will, no matter how much I try.” The words spoken behind her back at her brother’s ball mocked her once more. “But there are some benefits to my new situation and the wealth that has come with it. I’m now in a position to do something constructive with my life, something meaningful and . . . I would so much rather spend my money on buying this house and renovating it than on jewels and dresses. I’ve no need for those, but after fifteen years of being able to move about freely, of feeling as though I was in charge of my destiny, however dismal that destiny might have been, I need to do something of my own; something that’s only mine and that nobody else will interfere with.”

“You’re seeking power and control.”

She hadn’t really thought of it like that, but perhaps he was right. “I will make mistakes. I know that. But they will be my mistakes and—”

“Your mistakes so far have not only been costly but completely unnecessary.” He considered her with a blank expression that made her insides squirm. “What troubles me the most, however, is your dishonesty. Frankly, I thought you were better than that.”

“I . . .” If he’d told her he hated her, it wouldn’t have hurt more than the disappointment that showed on his face. “I wasn’t sure how to explain all of this to you or your mother or Lady Everly. Chances were that one of you, if not all, would have tried to stop me from coming here today.” Pouring every bit of remorse she felt into her gaze, she whispered, “I couldn’t let that happen.”

Inhaling sharply, he expelled his breath on a nod. “Very well then.”

“Very well?”

“I will try to think of the best way in which to accommodate the desire you have to make something useful of this broken-down building. In the meantime, we need to leave. I am supposed to be back at Dorset House in twenty minutes and I think it might be best if we get you home first.”

Agreeing, Amelia followed him outside where she locked the door before accompanying him to where his carriage waited on a side street. Helping her in, he claimed the opposite seat and proceeded to look anywhere but at her, feeding her guilt until she felt so rotten about her handling of the situation that sitting still became difficult. She clutched at her seat cushion in order to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“I want you to come to me from now on,” he said, his voice landing on the windowpane as he stared out at the rain-streaked buildings they were passing.

“But I—”

His head swung around so his eyes could drill into her. “No buts.” His lips pressed tightly together to form a severe line across his otherwise handsome face. “You betrayed my trust today, and that is something I will not allow you to do again. Is that understood?”

Amelia knew she’d placed herself at his mercy. He had the power to crush her dreams now that Raphe wasn’t here to step in. So she nodded and said, “Of course,” adding the formal, “Your Grace,” to underscore his authority.

He held her gaze for a while, the rich brown irises darkening to near black. “When are you supposed to pay Mr. Gorrell the money you owe him?”

“One week from today.”

“Good. I will escort you. And when I do, I trust you will be dressed in a more appropriate manner, because that, what you are wearing . . .” He shook his head. “What if someone had recognized you?”

“That was why I wore it. To avoid recognition.” When he frowned, she explained, “No aristocrat is going to look too closely at a woman who’s dressed like this. They’ll cross to the other side of the street first.”

“And yet I spotted you because you were the only visible anomaly.” Crossing his arms, he leaned back and closed his eyes, blocking her from his view. “Why do young women always have to seek out adventure? It leads to nothing but trouble and . . .” His features hardened on the unspoken words. The low gravelly tenor of his voice vibrated through her, stealing into her chest and squeezing her heart with such fierceness she gasped.

It was then that she realized his anger had to be based on more than her actions alone. There was something more complicated than that at play—a manifestation of more than one singular emotion. She felt it so profoundly that whatever the cause, it ran deeper than anything she could have said or done on her own.

Unsure of how to soothe him, she reached out her hand and paused. She wasn’t supposed to touch him. It wasn’t considered appropriate behavior even though her instinct might be to offer comfort. She’d always done so for her siblings, but this was different. Coventry wasn’t a relation. He was a man for whom she’d felt nothing but love and adoration until he’d shown her his wrath. Now she didn’t know what she felt besides frustration and heartache. What should have been an enjoyable project was turning into a nightmare. The excitement she’d felt for it had vanished during the course of the last hour, leaving her with an emptiness inside that she did not care for.

So she withdrew her hand and leaned back against her side of the carriage while wondering if she would ever understand his reaction today. Because although she knew she’d disappointed him, she did not think she warranted some of the harsh words he’d spoken or the menacing way in which he’d delivered them. Which made her wonder if she’d really known him at all, or if the smitten state she’d been in had made her ignore his true character.