Sipping her tea, Amelia tried to focus on what the dowager duchess was saying. The lady had arrived half an hour earlier and was now seated on the opposite sofa next to Lady Everly while Juliette occupied an adjacent armchair. The subject of discussion was a bit of gossip that had been picked up during yesterday’s tea party, but Amelia was having some trouble following the line of conversation. Her thoughts kept drifting to other issues.

For one thing, it had now been twenty-four hours since she’d seen Coventry last. She’d spent most of that time going over their conversation while simultaneously trying to figure out how to acquire the money she now owed Mr. Gorrell. Both contemplations had kept her awake for most of the night until she’d had to acknowledge that Coventry had been right. She had behaved recklessly and with no consideration for anyone else but herself. Achieving her goal had been so important to her she’d failed to consider the ramifications of her actions.

There was no doubt in her mind that Coventry was an honorable man. If he’d promised Raphe he would look out for her during his absence, then Coventry would take his duty to do so seriously. She also had to remember that he’d been raised with Society rules dictating his every move while circumstance had not required her to have an escort whenever she went out alone. Raphe had worked and boxed most days, so she’d had to see to the errands outside of the house as well, like shopping for food, buying wood for the fireplace and selling their old clothes to rag-collectors. She’d had to deal with some questionable individuals over the years, but Mr. Gorrell was the first to get the better of her. Perhaps because his station had made her less suspicious—a mistake that would not be repeated.

Once her annoyance with herself and Coventry had abated a little, she’d had to acknowledge he’d made some valid arguments. What if someone had recognized her? The possibility had existed the moment she’d stepped out into the street. Would she be able to forgive herself for the negative effect such an incident might have on Juliette? And what about Raphe? He’d agreed to give her the funds she’d asked for, but he’d also trusted her to use them wisely.

With a sigh, she watched Lady Everly speak to the dowager duchess about a Mr. Somethingorother. Not caring, she chose to continue her pondering. She would have to come up with an additional twenty-five hundred pounds now. It seemed like an impossible task. Especially when her time was being monopolized by dress fittings, dance lessons, social calls, balls and whatever else Lady Everly and the dowager duchess had in mind.

“So what do you think?” Lady Everly asked.

Amelia blinked at the realization that the question was being directed at her. “About what?”

“About our thoughts on your potential suitors,” the dowager duchess clarified. She pointed toward the paper that lay on the table. It was the same one Lady Everly had produced two days earlier but with a few additional names penned across the bottom.

Picking it up, Amelia glanced at the long list of names. “I don’t believe I’m acquainted with most of these gentlemen,” she said. Noting a number next to each one, she asked, “What is this?”

“Their annual income,” Lady Everly said with a smile. “We do not know what all of them are yet, but we will figure it out soon enough.”

Amelia nodded while she glanced at the single digits. “So . . . Lord Yates makes . . . three thousand pounds?”

Lady Everly chuckled. “Might I suggest you add a zero to that number?”

“A title and a fortune? What a fine catch,” Juliette muttered.

Her dry tone made Amelia laugh, which in turn made Lady Everly roll her eyes while the dowager duchess watched with a sympathetic smile.

“In case you are wondering,” Lady Everly said, “I favor love matches, but one has to start somewhere when seeking a husband, and this seemed like as good a place as any.”

“And there is no harm in falling in love with a rich man,” the dowager duchess added. “If anything, I should think that doing so would be simpler.”

“As long as he reciprocates the sentiment,” Amelia said without thinking. She immediately regretted the words when everyone paused to stare at her. “It would only lead to heartache if he didn’t,” she added with a shrug. Not that she knew anything about that since she was as out of love with Coventry as she’d been before she’d met him.

He would never make her happy. Yesterday’s argument had confirmed how ill-suited they were for each other. Which was just as well since he no doubt had some duchess-in-training to court at some point or other.

“I suppose that is true,” Lady Everly agreed. “But I can assure you that the worst thing of all would be for him to share your affection and then marry someone else.”

“Why on earth would such a thing happen?” Juliette asked. “I mean, if he were from a good family and you—”

“A family feud could be the cause.” A bitter note had entered the dowager countess’s voice. “One might be surprised by how scheming parents can be and the negative impact it can have on their children.”

“Which is why we all wish to do what is in your best interest,” the dowager duchess hastily added.

“My brother doesn’t insist we marry nobility though,” Amelia said, “so I don’t think we need to limit our choices to titled gentlemen alone.” She’d actually felt bad about doing so even before she’d overheard those women at the ball. Because what right did she and her sister actually have to breeze into Society as if they were just as deserving of an earl or viscount or . . . whatever . . . as the ladies who’d been raised to marry such men since birth? The fact that their parents had been gentry was hardly enough when considering their lack of education and accomplishments. Until recently, they hadn’t even known that a fish knife existed.

“Of course you needn’t,” the dowager duchess said. She shifted her gaze to Amelia, eyes bursting with kindness. “But what harm is there in aspiring for greatness? Granted, you must pick a man who you like, one with whom you feel a certain . . . compatibility. The more you have in common, the easier it will be for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company, to become friends and, in time, grow to love one another. That is how it happened for me and my husband, and we were tremendously happy.”

“In that case, we might be in need of more paper,” Amelia said. She sipped her tea until she had everyone’s full attention. “Names and fortunes are clearly not enough for my sister and I to form a proper opinion of these potential suitors. We shall need to list their interests and characteristics, as well.”

“What about looks?” Juliette asked.

Amelia felt her lips lift at the corners as she glanced toward her. “While they may matter in order to hold a visual interest, they are the least important when it comes to marital bliss. You only need to think of Mama in order to know how true that is.”

“Agreed.” Juliette stood. “I’ll fetch the writing materials so we can start adding additional information.”

They spent the next hour jotting down each gentleman’s preferred pastime activities, the locations of their various estates and whatever else Lady Everly and the dowager duchess were able to recollect. Amelia was just jotting down Mr. Lowell’s skill at whist when Pierson came to knock on the door. “The Duke of Coventry is here,” he announced right before the duke entered the parlor.

His hair was more tame than when Amelia had last seen him, his clothes impeccably tailored to fit around his powerful body. He was every bit the dashing aristocrat he was supposed to be, and for a moment, she forgot how he’d chastised her yesterday and the chagrin she’d felt immediately after. But then his eyes bore down on hers and the edges of his jaw transformed into rigid planes. He had not forgotten their argument, and just like that, the memory of it and all the feelings that had since been evoked tumbled through her on an avalanche.

“Ladies,” he said, following his greeting with a bow. “How lovely you look.”

At least Amelia could agree with him there. Indeed, her appearance was much improved today since she’d chosen to put on a white gown sewn from the finest muslin. It had pretty puff sleeves and a blue silk ribbon tied right beneath her breasts. Determined to make a better impression, she kept her back straight and held her hands neatly folded in her lap. But her heart shook with every step he took in her direction, and it occurred to her then that the only remaining seat was the one immediately next to her on the sofa.

Lowering himself onto it while eels swam around inside her belly, he leaned back, waited a few seconds and then looked straight at her with eyes that demanded her attention. “May I please have some tea?”

She sucked in those words on a deep inhalation. This was her home, and with Gabriella away, her position as the elder sister made pouring tea for a gentleman caller her responsibility. The edge of Coventry’s mouth twitched, no doubt because he’d seen the flush now heating her cheeks. Did he mean to punish her by making a study of all her mistakes?

Swallowing a groan, she picked up the teapot and poured with an elegant turn of the wrist that pleased her. It must have surprised him as well, for he thanked her as if he’d expected her to spill it. Instead, she felt the edge of her own mouth twitch when she handed him his cup. She’d learned long ago that even the smallest of victories ought to be savored, and so she did exactly that.

“We were just about to decide on the most eligible suitors for Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette to pursue,” the dowager duchess explained.

“Ah,” Coventry said with a grin. “I have arrived at a hunting party. Will you be bringing out the hounds, I wonder?”

“They shan’t be needed.” Picking up the list of names, Lady Everly waved it in the air. “When these young men see Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette at Elmwood House on Friday, they will flock to them on their own accord. Mark my word.”

The slight puckering of Coventry’s forehead suggested he wasn’t convinced, but if that were the case, he failed to mention it. Instead he asked, “So then . . .” He reached across the table, accepting the list from Lady Everly’s outstretched hand. “Which of these is your main mark?”

“You needn’t speak of them as though they’re going to get shot at,” Amelia muttered.

“Does Cupid not wield a bow and arrow?”

Puffing out a breath, she crossed her arms, then remembered that she was supposed to keep her hands folded in her lap, and lowered them once more. She couldn’t say why Coventry was grating on her today for he’d been nothing but courteous so far. But there was something . . . perhaps the way he looked at her now, as if to say, I know your secret, and I will hold it over you forever. The worst part wasn’t even the fact that she only had herself to blame, it was the realization that he might be the only person capable of helping her. But to ask him to do so . . . Ugh! She’d almost rather swallow a slug.

Almost.

“We have advised Lady Amelia to consider Mr. Lowell first,” the dowager duchess said. She’d obviously decided to ignore the comment about Cupid.

Coventry gave a thoughtful nod while he studied the paper. “His grandfather is the Earl of Scranton, so there will be a title there one day. Presently, however, I doubt that few would think it inappropriate for him to marry a viscount’s granddaughter, regardless of her upbringing.”

Amelia flinched at the factual way in which he was talking. Not a hint of emotion seeped into his words as he continued to speak in favor of the potential match. By the time he was done, she felt raw inside. He’d even said he would happily make the necessary introduction, which could only mean he was pleased with the idea of her marrying Mr. Lowell. Perhaps he believed a courtship would give her something else to think of besides lying to him in order to buy an overpriced ruin. She still couldn’t help but shudder with the thought of him knowing how thoroughly she’d been duped.

But a part of her had hoped against all odds that he might not have been quite so eager to see her form an attachment to another man. Foolish woman that she was. He had never viewed her as anything other than his friend’s sister, and he never would.

Tightening her stomach around the pain slicing through it, she reminded herself that she didn’t care. He was not as kind as she’d thought him to be but in possession of a brutal streak she’d rather avoid from now on. Still, she ought to make a better effort at offering him an apology. Perhaps then they could at least return to some sort of friendship where she didn’t feel as though he was constantly judging her.

“He will inherit a large estate one day,” Lady Everly said, still speaking of Mr. Lowell. “In the meantime, the twenty thousand pounds he makes per annum is a respectable sum. If I recall, he even enjoys a good game of croquet.”

“Really?” Amelia asked with interest. She’d only recently been introduced to the sport a couple of weeks ago, but had taken to it with pleasure right from the start.

“Why does that seem to please you?” Coventry asked. “Do you like to play?”

“On occasion,” she said with a bit of a shrug. Looking at him then, she added, “There can be something very rewarding about hitting a ball with a mallet.”

He looked dubious, but still ended up saying, “In that case, I would suggest trying golf, but that game requires more finesse than one would be able to garner from wielding a cumbersome bit of wood.”

His implication wasn’t lost on her, which prompted her to respond in kind. “My only regret is when I miss.”

“I believe golf is played at a club just north of London,” the dowager duchess said, seemingly unaware of the veiled argument taking place. “I can look into it if you would like to learn.”

Amelia forced a smile. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I believe I shall stick to croquet for now. Especially if that is what Mr. Lowell enjoys playing.”

“I believe he is fond of shuttlecock too,” Lady Everly said. “In fact, he enjoys playing a wide variety of games.”

“Excellent.” Amelia reached for her teacup and took another sip. “We shan’t be bored then when we’re together. What a relief.”

Beside her, Coventry made a sound that sounded a bit like a choked cough. So she glanced toward him and saw he was actually smiling. Or doing his best not to and failing miserably. It lasted only until he found her watching, at which point his lips tightened to accommodate the stern look that followed.

With a shake of her head, Amelia turned away and decided that she would have one of the tempting biscuits that sat on the table just waiting to be devoured. Picking one up, she bit into the flaky treat, enjoying the flavor of ginger and spice as it nipped at her tongue.

“Shall we resume your dance lessons then?” the dowager duchess asked.

Amelia froze with the remainder of her biscuit still poised in midair.

“I think the ladies did very well last time,” Coventry said. On the table before him, his tea remained untouched, prompting Amelia to wonder if he’d requested it only to unnerve her. “They need not go over the dances again.”

“I disagree,” Lady Everly said. “Amelia made several mistakes, so I would like to ensure she can manage to refrain from doing so when Society is watching.”

With a sigh, Amelia accepted the fact that she was once again the center of unwanted attention. She set down her biscuit and glanced at Coventry, whose posture remained as stiff as ever. Still, the dances would allow them a chance to speak more privately, which might not be such a bad thing if she truly wished to convey her regrets with sincerity.

Well, it was rather like swallowing cod-liver oil, wasn’t it? One did it because one had to, not because one wanted to. But in this case, it would be the right thing to do, which left her with little choice but to get it over with.

“Perhaps you are right,” Coventry said. “It would be unfortunate if anyone thought her to be anything less than the lady she truly is.” Getting up, he turned to offer her his hand with a meaningful look.

The fact that her insides collapsed beneath his regard did not prevent her from forcing elegance into her limbs and rising as if she floated on air. Her chin came up and her eyes met his with defiance. “I can assure you that that will not happen, Your Grace.” She settled her hand carefully over his, just as Gabriella had taught her, and followed the gesture with a smile. “Shall we proceed?”

A flicker of uncertainty entered his gaze, and for a second he simply stood there, staring back at her. But then he collected himself and nodded. “Certainly.” He glanced at his mother. “I trust you will be counting the beats again?”

“Of course.”

Coventry led Amelia across to the parlor door and out into the hallway. “Then by all means, let us get on with it,” he murmured, leaving no illusion about his desire to partner with her this afternoon. It was just as lacking as hers was.