Feeling irritable on account of the sleepless night he’d passed, Thomas led Lady Amelia through to the ballroom while the rest of their small party followed behind. She did not glance at him once while they walked, her eyes stubbornly trained on their destination. A weaker woman would no doubt have shied away from him after the way he’d treated her yesterday, but not Lady Amelia. Her posture was more correct than he’d ever seen it before, her determinedness to safeguard her pride so astute it gifted her with a regal bearing. She was not going to let his angry words bring her down. On the contrary, she would thwart them with her head held high.

There was something to be said about that. For one thing, he respected her for it. For another, he couldn’t help but be a little bit proud of her for standing up to him with as much resolve as she had. Most young ladies would have backed away. Then again, most young ladies would not have lied about their whereabouts and then proceeded to traipse through the streets of London dressed like a beggar in order to rendezvous with a man at a questionable location. The memory of it still infuriated him and yet . . . as convinced as he’d been of her wrongdoing last night, he’d since concluded that she might have been right about a couple of things and that she deserved an apology for his aggressive behavior.

“We will start with a typical country dance,” his mother announced once he and Amelia had stepped into the center of the ballroom. A beat began and he held out his hand. She placed hers over it and it occurred to him she was making a particular effort to touch him as little as possible, the point of contact so light it was barely there at all.

Annoyed for some reason he couldn’t explain, he led her through the paces at a leisurely speed, turning, stepping aside and moving forward with precise movements. Today, she had no difficulty with her steps. Even the reel and cotillion were executed with success. It was almost as if her annoyance with him lent an element of focus she’d been denied before. Which seemed absurd. If anything, he would have thought it would have been the other way around.

“And now for the waltz,” his mother said. “If you manage that as well as the previous dances, Lady Amelia, you are bound to become a remarkable success.”

Thomas took his position across from her. She still refused to meet his gaze, her eyes trained on a spot right next to his shoulder. The effect of her standoffishness—the contrast it held to the last time they’d danced—was such that he felt compelled to force a reaction from her. Any reaction would do at this point. So he stepped toward her the moment his mother began to clap and pulled her into his arms.

A gasp flew from between Lady Amelia’s lips as he swept her into the dance a second earlier than she’d expected. Her eyes were brightened with amusement before she banked the emotion with a glare that pushed at his chest. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Tightening his hold, he leaned in and whispered, “I am dancing, Lady Amelia, that is all.”

They were close, not quite inappropriately so, but enough for him to notice the way her tendons worked in her neck, straining against the rapid beat of her pulse. He’d unnerved her again, and if her hitched breath had not been enough to confirm this, her sudden missteps did.

“Damn you, Coventry.” Fire burned in her eyes, swallowing the brown and leaving nothing but dazzling green.

He clutched her tighter in order to steady her pace, and perhaps for another reason as well, though he chose not to think of what that might be. Those eyes, however. Hell, he couldn’t stop looking at them no matter how much they conveyed her annoyance with him.

But he wasn’t going to admit the effect they had on him either, how they seemed to steal his breath and shake his heart. So he chose to tell her a truth—one he never shared with anyone. He wouldn’t have mentioned it now if she hadn’t given it power. But since she had, he told her gently, “I have been damned for the last five years, my lady. A curse from you can hardly make matters worse.”

Color drained from her face, leaving her pale and with a startled expression that almost bordered on pity. Hating it, he spun them around, leading her in a series of wide circles that quickened their pace until they were both breathing harder. Would they ever resolve this tension between them? he wondered. It had risen like a brick wall, and Thomas wasn’t entirely sure of how to knock it back down or if doing so would even be possible. He hoped it would be, for he rather missed the smiles Lady Amelia had always bestowed upon him. They’d been so full of genuine happiness they made him want to smile too, no matter how rotten his day might be.

But she didn’t appear to be in any mood for reconciliation at the moment, and he had to admit that his most recent remark didn’t make it seem as though he might be either. Except he was. As disappointed as he was in her, especially for lying, he desperately wanted to put their dispute behind them and get back to their amicable repartee. He continued to ponder that thought until his mother clapped the final beat and he drew Lady Amelia to a stop. Perhaps if they could have a chance to speak privately?

“Mama,” he said as he led Lady Amelia toward the spot where his mother was standing beside Lady Everly and Lady Juliette. “The dances have exhausted us. Do you mind if we take a turn in the garden and get some fresh air before I continue with Lady Juliette?”

His mother considered the request for a moment. She glanced toward the French doors leading out onto the terrace, then returned her gaze to him. “I see no harm in it as long as you remain within view.”

As if disappearing from view was an option on the stretch of green that sat between the house and the park. “Thank you,” he said without pointing that out. “We won’t be very long.”

Whatever Lady Amelia’s thoughts were on his attempt to whisk her away from the others, she didn’t voice them. Rather, she accompanied him in complete silence and with renewed stiffness to her stride.

“I must confess this hostility between us is beginning to grate on me,” he said, leading her out to the terrace.

“Then you obviously have no patience for combat since it has only been little more than twenty-four hours since our falling-out.”

He gave her a humorless smile. “Is this how you wish to continue? With each of us throwing sharp rejoinders at the other until we eventually say the one thing that will ruin our friendship forever?”

“No.” She sighed. “Of course not. But you are obviously still angry with me and I . . . well, to be honest, I thought my irritation with you had subsided until you arrived this afternoon.”

Not knowing what to say to that exactly, he drew her toward the steps leading down to the lawn. A couple of trees stood in one corner close to the hedge that hugged the fence. Beneath them sat a stone bench, partially shaded by overhanging branches. It was a much finer day today than it had been yesterday. The sun had turned the cloudless sky a bright shade of blue, the golden rays enhancing the colors around them with an almost surreal vibrancy that shifted everything else to the background. It was just him and her now, secluded from the outside world in this tiny piece of heaven the garden had to offer.

They reached the bench and he motioned for her to sit, which she did while he remained standing. “I am not the sort of man who stubbornly insists on being right. While I do strive to avoid mistakes, I am not without fallibility.” Raising her gaze, she looked at him in a different way than she had done since his arrival. Her eyes were more studious now, more attentive and somehow more alert. It prompted him to continue. “With this in mind, I have assessed our conversation yesterday at great length and found . . .” It was vital he chose his next words wisely in order to avoid making matters worse. “The way in which I responded to your behavior was unacceptable. Please accept my apology with the assurance that I will never insult you in such a way again.”

“Thank you, but my behavior, as you put it, was deserving of your wrath. I acted carelessly because I wanted to accomplish my goal. The obstacles in my path didn’t matter—I was too intent on thwarting them by whatever means necessary.”

Pressing her lips together, she appeared to be suddenly lost and uncertain, and the innate need that followed, to sit down beside her and pull her into his arms, was quick and powerful. He resisted it only because of his strict upbringing, and then immediately wondered what on earth had come over him.

Her next words chased his fragile ponderings away. “You’re not the only one who needs to apologize, Coventry. What I did was reckless, just as you said, for numerous reasons. Lying to you only made matters worse and I . . . I now fear it will influence the opinion you have of my character. Which is why I must assure you that I don’t make a habit of being dishonest. But I felt it was necessary at the time, though I was wrong to do so, and for that I am sincerely sorry.”

Her features softened until nothing but genuine remorse remained. It shone from her eyes and traced the curve of her lips in a desperate plea for forgiveness. “It occurs to me that I never asked you about your reasoning.” Stepping closer, he allowed himself to sit down beside her while keeping a respectable amount of distance between them. “Why did you do it, Lady Amelia? Why is acquiring that house so important to you that you would risk so much in order to obtain it?”

It took a while for her to speak. In fact, he’d begun to think she wouldn’t answer, her gaze fixed on a flower bed filled with a lovely collection of roses. The sweet scent permeated the air while bees buzzed to and fro in their lively search for nectar.

“One of the hardest things about moving into this grand house and being dressed like a princess, besides knowing I’ll never truly fit in and that some will always question my suitability, is remembering the people I left behind—especially the children.” She swallowed and then clenched her jaw before looking at him with liquid-green pools of emotion. “I cannot stand the idea of having so much when they have so little, that some improbable stroke of luck has elevated me to this, and for what? Unless I put my wealth to good use and do something meaningful with it, what point does it have?”

“I cannot say, besides offering you a comfortable life that you would have been denied if your brother had not inherited the title.”

“And just look at the series of events that had to take place in order for that to happen.” She shook her head and produced a weak laugh. “For years I’ve accepted my fate, believing that if I was lucky I might one day marry a blacksmith. Instead, I find myself pursuing some of the wealthiest men in England.”

“Your birthright makes you worthy of them.”

“It shouldn’t.”

He found her blunt statement a little unsettling. “Your lineage is—”

“There ought to be more to it than that—a proper education at the very least.”

“You are wrong if you think you are lacking in that regard. From what little I have managed to gather about you and your sister, your proficiency in math and science surpasses that of most young ladies, who tend to receive only basic training in such areas. They are raised to marry well and produce the next heir. It is rare that their skill with numbers goes beyond the ability to keep the necessary housekeeping records, while you . . . Your brother mentioned you have all studied numerous texts on the subject and that you also have a sound knowledge of history, geography and politics.”

“Books were our only source of entertainment. We’d brought a few with us when we left our home and after having read them all repeatedly, Raphe began exchanging them for others. He kept insisting that knowledge was power, and that it was something no one could ever take away from us.”

Touched by the sadness with which she spoke, Thomas raised his hand with the intention of reaching for hers. Blinking, he acknowledged how wrong such a gesture would be, the numerous ways in which she might misjudge it. So he lowered it once more, settling it back in his lap. “Your brother was right. He did well by you and your sister.”

“Yes. I believe he did.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “And if I can do well by others, then my conscience might find some peace.”

“How do you mean?”

Her smile widened with the sort of pleasure that poured from every part of her. It produced a glow that warmed his skin in a way the sun failed to do, and for a moment, he was awestruck by her beauty. It was rare and unique, the kind that revealed itself slowly until it was so overpowering it could no longer be denied. And as she leaned closer and he managed to catch a glimpse of perfection in the thick dark lashes that shaded her eyes, he felt something ease inside him. It was almost as though she were able to pull out his knotted insides and replace them with rippling waves of calm.

“My intention is to open a school.”

The words were so soft he almost missed them. Without thinking, he dropped his gaze to her mouth as if seeing some movement there would confirm she’d spoken. Instead, he found himself studying the subtle dip of her lower lip and how carefully her upper lip hovered over it. It left him feeling slightly unsettled, if not completely confused about the sudden interest he seemed to be having in that particular part of her face.

And then the weight of her comment struck him and his eyes snapped back to hers. “A school?”

She gave an enthusiastic nod. It was almost as if the strain that had existed between them had been completely undone and tossed aside. “Precisely.” Her eyes gleamed with the sort of pleasure one might find in shocking someone with a bit of juicy gossip. Except this was so much more substantial, it fairly boggled his mind. “What I’m planning is to renovate that house and then offer the children of St. Giles a proper education, free of charge.”

“Free of charge,” he repeated like the dumbfounded fool he’d been reduced to in the face of her startling attempt at charity. Shaking himself, he straightened his spine and tried to focus on the implications of her idea. It would certainly be welcomed by the poor, but the cost would be staggering. “How will you fund it?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she confessed. “If you must know, this has all been a bit of a hasty decision on my part.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

“There’s no need to mock me,” she chastised. “I’ll figure it out one way or another. There simply has to be a way.”

“Your tenacity will no doubt reveal the answer.”

“Yes well . . . there is one small issue I thought I might ask for your assistance with.” She was suddenly on her feet, which forced him to rise, as well. He watched as she began to pace while making all sorts of agitated gestures with her hands. “Now that we are friends again . . .”

Oh hell. This was not going to end well.

“Yes?” he prompted when her attention seemed to drift toward a couple of birds now perching on a branch.

She spun toward him as if he’d startled her. “Well . . . I . . . you see, the thing is . . .”

“What?”

Stopping right in front of him, she seemed to deflate on an exhalation of breath. “I think you’re going to be very angry with me when I tell you this, but the truth is, I can think of no one else to turn to for help.”

Balling his fingers into fists, he forced down the rising panic her words evoked. “Tell me,” he said, since knowing was better than not doing so.

With a sigh, she crossed her arms in that manner he now recognized as a sign of defensiveness. “As it turns out, I don’t have the money I owe Mr. Gorrell.”

Thomas’s entire body went rigid and he did his best not to mutter an unpleasant curse. “Did you ever have it?”

“No.”

Biting his tongue, he took a moment to force some sense of calm into the words he would speak next. “Then why”—the bloody hell—“did you bid as high as you did?”

“Because if I hadn’t, I would have lost the building. I’m certain of it.”

“To whom?” His words came out louder than he’d intended because of his frustration, so he drew a fortifying breath and ran his hand through his hair before addressing her once again. “I do not believe Mr. Gorrell had another buyer. He tricked you, Lady Amelia, forcing you to pay much more than that hovel is worth.”

“It is not a hovel,” she said with a glare. “It is an opportunity to do something more important than parade about in silk gowns and dance at balls.” Her hands were suddenly clasping his. “Don’t you see? This is a chance to do something significant.”

As he gazed down into her upturned face, he could feel her energy seeping from her hands and straight into his. It flowed up his arms and filled his chest with a new awareness, as if he’d lived in a world of grays and whites and she had shown him the color. Disturbed by the powerful effect she was having, he snatched his hands away and stepped back quickly. What was she thinking to touch him with such familiarity? Had it even occurred to her she’d done so or had she merely been propelled by the fire that blazed in her eyes? Surely, it must have affected her soul.

With a glance toward the terrace, he ensured no one had noticed the gesture, and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed right now was for his mother to suspect his interest in Lady Amelia went beyond his duty toward Huntley. Which it didn’t. To suppose such a thing would be madness, even if he might be able to lose himself in her eyes and her mouth made him think of ripe strawberries served on a hot afternoon.

“Very well,” he said, if for no other reason than to stop thinking about her in tantalizing terms. “What do you propose?”

Her lips parted and she stared straight back at him with no small degree of stupefaction. “What do I propose?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him some more, then gathered herself and asked, “Will you give me a loan?”

He should have expected the question, all things considered. Later that day, he would certainly wonder why he hadn’t. For now, he simply tried to process her request. “You want to borrow two thousand five hundred pounds from me?”

“I don’t know who else to ask. Raphe—I mean, Huntley—won’t be back in time to help me, and if I don’t pay what is owed, Mr. Gorrell will call a debt collector.”

“Such a man can be turned away for a while, perhaps long enough to allow for Huntley’s return.” Inhaling deeply, he pushed air back out through his nose. “There’s no guarantee that Mr. Gorrell will not use such a delay against you, however. All he would have to do is let everyone know you broke your promise—that you cannot be trusted—that Huntley’s sister cannot make good on her word—and the scandal will ruin any chance you have of finding a husband.”

Closing her eyes against the harsh reality he painted, she bowed her head. “Then help me. Please.”

“Give me a couple of days in which to think about it, and I will let you know what I decide.” It was the best he could do at the moment, at least if he was to use his common sense, that was. Because the alternative would be to make a hasty decision based solely on some new, inexplicable desire he had to save her from the mess she’d created. And that was something he simply couldn’t allow himself to do.