Chapter Thirteen
“Are you certain about this?” Amelia looked at herself in the mirror.
Julia put down the shears after taking yet another strip of cloth away from the front of Amelia’s gown. “I don’t know. It might need to be a little lower still.”
Lower still? Was she trying to expose Amelia’s navel? “Absolutely not.”
“We could rouge your nipples.”
Of all the scandalous notions. Amelia gasped. “Julia! Where do you even come up with something like that?”
“You’re not the only one who reads.” Julia sighed. “I suppose that will have to do. We’ll shorten the skirt up a bit to show your petticoat though.”
Amelia made a small sound of distress.
“Do you have a good one? One that’s not plain?”
“Why would I?”
Julia shrugged. “I had one made of fuchsia silk for fun. Mother was aghast but she didn’t stop me. I’ll loan it to you.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes. “When did you do that and why didn’t I ever hear about it?”
“Last year. It was my secret for myself. Everyone needs one.”
Amelia looked at herself again. They’d chosen a white satin gown to alter, the one meant for her wedding breakfast. Another small stand in the name of defiance. Since she didn’t intend to marry Embry, she doubted it would be missed. If she pretended she were someone else, if she didn’t think about all the strangers’ eyes on her, she could see how it might be quite provocative.
A scrap of silk fell to the floor from the skirt. Julia looked in the mirror and caught her admiring herself. “You can borrow the matching corset as well,” she said with a knowing smile.
“There is something truly wrong with us.” Amelia took a deep breath and watched her breasts lift obscenely.
“Nonsense,” Julia said. “We’re just more honest than most people. Well, I am. You’ll learn eventually.”
Amelia twisted to see around the back. “Should we pin up the sides? Show a bit more flash?” The prickle of nervousness running through her was turning into a thrill of excitement.
Julia clapped her hands. “Now you’re getting it. Take it off, and we’ll sew it up.”
They sat together on the bed, using their years of embroidery for a purpose that would give their governess an apoplexy if she were there to see it.
“You know I’m going to try to back out again when I actually have to wear it,” Amelia said.
“But you won’t. You won’t like it, but you’ll go through with it.”
Of course, she was right. After they’d finished sewing and under much duress, Amelia found herself dressed and ready for scandal.
“What will you tell Mother and Papa?” Amelia asked as she pulled the cloak around her shoulders. Like the petticoat and corset, it was Julia’s, and cut longer for her sister’s taller frame. It wouldn’t do to have Lord or Lady Bishop accidentally catch a flash of fuchsia on her way down the stairs.
“I’ll think of something brilliant, don’t worry.”
“I know you will.” She took another look at herself—a vision of impropriety, with her hair piled high to expose as much creamy flesh as possible. “Oh God. I can’t do this.”
“Since we know you’re going to, why don’t you skip all the worrying and enjoy yourself instead?”
Could she? Could she just decide to enjoy herself?
No, she couldn’t. “Oh, God.”
Julia laughed. “It was worth a try. Here, drink this.”
Amelia took what she was handed and downed it in a gulp. It lit her insides on fire the whole way down. She came up coughing. “What was that?”
“Papa’s best whiskey. Here, have another.” Julia lifted the bottle.
Amelia was still coughing from the last one. “You’re a demon sent to torment me.”
“You’ll care a lot less if you’re intoxicated. Everyone else will be. No one will think it unusual.”
She did notice a slight lessening of her tension now that the burn had settled into a warmth in her chest and stomach. Amelia held out her glass. “All right.”
Julia giggled. “This is almost as good as going myself.”
“You—”
“Don’t even try,” Julia interrupted. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Amelia sighed. Before she closed the cloak, she turned to her sister. “How do I look, honestly?”
“Like a woman who is up to absolutely no good.”
Amelia nodded. “Well, then I suppose I’m ready.”
She snuck down the back stairs—the same ones Nicholas used when he snuck in to measure her—and out the garden. Don’t think about Nick. He made his choice.
In the alley, Jasper was waiting by a carriage. “My lady,” he said with an overly flourished bow. “Your carriage awaits.”
“My lord.” Amelia giggled as she executed a curtsy.
He handed her up and they were off. Amelia couldn’t quite sit still. She kept fidgeting with her dress.
Jasper raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m nervous.”
“About what, my dear?”
Amelia laughed. “About going to a gaming hell.”
“And what do you imagine you’ll find there that unnerves you so?”
Good question. “I don’t know. I’d imagine it’s the things I don’t know about that frighten me.”
“Well,” Jasper said with a smile. “I know everything there is to know about gaming hells, and I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. Especially at Crockford’s.”
“Is it not disreputable?”
“For a lady to visit, certainly it is. But by gaming hell standards, it is fairly reputable. There is no cheating or violence there. Only the sort of debaucheries you’ll find pleasurable.”
“Oh.” Amelia wasn’t sure what any of that meant, but it didn’t sound too terrible.
They pulled up in front of an unassuming door on Saint James Street. Jasper stepped down and held out his hand. “After you, my lady.”
She took his arm. They went up the steps and straight into Sodom and Gomorrah.
The women were fascinating. They were leaning over tables, sitting on laps. They were like beautiful flowers, just past their bloom. The man at the door took Amelia’s cloak and Jasper gave a low whistle. “Lady Amelia.”
“I thought I ought to look the part.”
Jasper stepped back, looking her head to toe. “Oh my dear, you are something quite above and beyond the part.”
She blushed.
“None of that now,” he whispered. “You must pretend to be worldly.”
She whispered back, “I don’t think I know how.”
Jasper laughed. “Follow my lead and pretend everyone is very boring and saying something you’ve heard a hundred times before.”
And then he led her to the hazard table. Amelia didn’t know the rules—she didn’t need to. Jasper laid the bets and she threw the dice. The first time she threw them, everyone yelled. It startled her, until she realized she’d done something good. She threw them again and they yelled again—this time with a strange man kissing her on the cheek—so Amelia assumed she was doing well.
It went on that way for what felt like an eternity. The cheering and the praise made her forget to be nervous. Now and then someone brought her a drink. She lost count of how many she’d had.
“Ahh, darling,” one of her new admirers declared. “Come away from this place and let me lavish you with queenly riches.”
Intoxicated Amelia remembered what Jasper had told her. She raised her chin at the man. “Why would I want the riches of a queen, when I can have the worship of a goddess?”
Jasper arched an eyebrow at her and smiled. She leaned into him. “Was that the right thing to say?”
“Quite. Come, let’s move to the card tables.”
Amelia nodded and turned too quickly, stumbling into the back of a gentleman. “I’m sorry, I—”
He turned. It was Mr. Preston. His eyes widened, and then dropped to her extremely exposed cleavage. “Lady Amelia. How surprising to see you here, and in a dress no less.”
She narrowed her eyes, in part because it made it easier to keep him in her field of vision. “I am not in the least surprised to see you. I know how much you enjoy losing money, Mr. Preston.”
“Perhaps on a riding track under extenuating circumstances, but cards are my game, Lady Amelia.”
Amelia looked to Jasper. He shrugged and handed her his winnings from the hazard table.
“Mr. Preston, may I interest you in a game?”
Nicholas was in the library when the footman came to find him. Lady Ruby had given him a great deal to think about and left him feeling very much like an ass. He was sitting with a book, hoping no one would realize that he was just lost in thought.
“My lord, there is a messenger here from Viscount Bellamy. He says you must come at once.”
“Jasper?” Nicholas put his book down. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, my lord. He said you must come at once, nothing more.”
“Right.” Nicholas struggled to collect his thoughts. “Could someone—”
“Your coat and hat are in the foyer and the carriage is being brought around, my lord.”
“Thank you.” At this hour, even Jasper wouldn’t send a messenger unless it was truly urgent.
Once he arrived at Jasper’s house, the staff let him straight in and led him to the small library. Jasper was standing next to the fireplace, but Nicholas barely saw him. Laid out on one of Jasper’s leather couches was Amelia. Her eyes were closed.
Nicholas raced to her side. “Amelia. Amelia, love, are you all right?”
“I didn’t realize…” Jasper’s words faded as Nick blocked him out.
Amelia’s eyes opened, hazy and unfocused. His heart lurched in his chest.
“You’re a handsome man,” she slurred. “Do you worship me, too?”
It took a moment to register. When it did, Nicholas was flabbergasted. “She’s drunk?”
“Utterly soused.” Jasper acted as if he didn’t know how it had happened. “I tried to take her home, but she refused to get out of the carriage. Didn’t want to go. She kept demanding to see you.”
Nicholas stood up, ready to strangle Jasper. “How could you let this happen?”
“We were having a good time. She seemed fine.”
She seemed fine? “Jasper, I swear to you—”
“Nicholas, why are you so angry? Look how fancy I am.” Amelia stretched on the couch.
To his credit, he hadn’t noticed her clothes before then. There was entirely more of Amelia on display than he was used to, and all of it was lifted or accentuated to its best advantage. He swung back around to Jasper.
Jasper held his hands up. “I had nothing to do with that. All her idea.”
Amelia pushed herself up on the couch. She had her eyes closed and she was frowning. “You’re a bad friend. You were supposed to understand.”
“I know, love. I’m sorry.”
She nodded, accepting the apology for what it was. “I don’t like these clothes anymore. I want to take them off.”
She meant immediately. Amelia started pulling at her bodice, managing to get a sleeve completely free of her shoulder. Nicholas had to dive to stop her. Fortunately, her dress hadn’t been designed for someone without the services of a maid.
“I can’t. I can’t wear it anymore. I want to breathe.”
“You are breathing, Mia. You’re breathing just fine.”
She shook her head. “No.”
And who could argue with that sort of logic.
Nicholas turned to Jasper. “I have to take her home.”
“Are you certain that’s a good idea? It might be easier if she sobers up a bit.”
Amelia was reaching around her back again, trying to undo the buttons of her dress.
“I’ll have to risk it. Sneaking her in naked will be much more dangerous than clothed.”
Jasper considered. “Probably easier, though.”
“Much easier,” Amelia hummed. She’d gathered her skirts in a puff on her lap, showing off a great deal of leg from the knee down.
Dragging her skirt back down, Nicholas fended off her hands as she retaliated by trying to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. “Amelia, you can take off as many of your clothes as you like if you let me take you home.”
She looked at him, weaving slightly on the couch. “I don’t want to, though.”
“But don’t you want to get undressed?” Jasper asked helpfully.
She squinted at them. “This is a trick.”
“It’s not. If you let me take you home, you can be nice and comfortable in your own bed.”
Her hands went wandering again. “Can I be comfortable in your bed?”
Nicholas groaned. Jasper, meanwhile, was having an excellent laugh.
“No, Mia. You can’t come to my bed.”
She frowned. “You keep saying that. You’re mean.”
Jasper gave him a look and sat down next to her on the couch. “Amelia, darling.”
“Jasper, darling,” she echoed, lips splitting into a wide smile.
The viscount leaned close. He pitched his voice in a loud whisper. “I bet, if you’re very tricky, you can convince him to join you in your bed.”
What the devil? Nick had to put a stop to this. “Jasper, what are you trying to do?”
He held up his finger. “You can be tricky, can’t you Amelia?”
Her nod was exaggerated. “All right. Take me home, Nick.”
Nicholas watched her stand up and stumble her way to the door and out into the hallway. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Oh please. If you can’t outsmart her in her current state, you’re not the man I thought you were.”
Someday, Nicholas was going to tally up all of his and Jasper’s encounters. He suspected their friendship had caused him far more trouble than good. But right now, he had to tend to the love of his life, whom he could hear having an involved conversation with her own reflection in the hallway mirror.
Amelia felt wonderful. Every once in a while, the world tried to spin on her and then she did not feel wonderful, but for the most part she felt better than she ever had. She was also discovering things she’d never noticed before, like the way her face made the strangest shapes when she crinkled it this way and that.
“You’re my face,” she told her reflection. “I should be quite familiar with my own face.”
Nicholas appeared from nowhere. “Come on, Mia. Let me take you home.”
She leaned into the arm he put around her waist. Nicholas was nice. So nice. Except when he was being an ass, but he’d said he was sorry for that. She’d like to take his clothes off. Hers, too, but also his. She hoped he’d let her. It seemed silly that she’d never seen him without his clothes on and she desperately wanted to.
Nicholas held her fingers. She realized she’d been unbuttoning his waistcoat again. And why shouldn’t she? “You want to marry me,” she told him with a wide smile.
“I do,” he agreed. “Some days more than others.”
Amelia wanted to do married things with Nick. They could hide away in the woods and be naked all the time. And she told him so.
“I think the groundskeepers might object. And what about our families and your fiancé?”
Amelia told him what she thought about families and fiancés using one of the vulgar expressions she learned from her new friends at the hazard table. She was still telling him when she tried to navigate the step up into the carriage, but the driver kept moving it. She stopped her story to give the driver a piece of her mind.
“She doesn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” Nicholas called up.
“I certainly do!” Amelia heard a sigh, right before a forceful shove to her backside sent her tumbling into the coach. “Why did you push me?”
“I told you I was going to give you some help up.” Nicholas climbed in behind her and shut the door.
“You did not.”
“I did. Not three seconds ago, I said ‘We’ll never get there if you keep clinging to the handle for dear life. Let me help you.’”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“Later, when you’re safely tucked in bed, Jasper and I are going to have a great deal to say to each other.”
Amelia didn’t care about that. They were friends, so of course they would have a lot to talk about. Just now, her major concern was why she was so cold. “It’s freezing.”
“Amelia? Amelia, you’re shaking.”
“Because it’s cold.”
Nicholas crossed over to her bench and gathered her to him. He took off his coat put it over her, trapping his deliciously warm body heat inside the cocoon he’d made for her.
She snuggled deep, trying to crawl into his warmth. “Mmm. Coffee.”
“You want coffee?” he asked.
She laughed. “You smell like coffee.”
“Oh.”
“And oranges.”
“I—” His voice cut off in the oddest sound as she pressed her lips against the exposed column of his throat and tasted him.
“You don’t taste like coffee or oranges.” She tried a different spot. “Not there, either.”
“Amelia.” He sounded choked. “While I am elated that you are not cross with me, I think we should save this line of exploration for another time.”
“Why?” She slipped her fingers between two of the buttons she’d managed to get undone, running her hand against his chest. So warm. Like fire.
“You’re not yourself right now.”
She trailed her fingers lower, exploring the crisp little hairs on his stomach. “Of course I’m myself. How could I be anyone else?”
“I just don’t think it’s a good—” There was that odd sound again as she reached the waistband on his breeches.
“Do you have hair everywhere? How far does it go?” She reached for the buttons on the fall, but his hands trapped hers, bringing them to his lips.
“Yes, I do.”
“May I see?”
“Not tonight. Perhaps someday, but not tonight.”
Amelia frowned. “But I want to now.”
“You’re making a very compelling argument, but—”
Suddenly she was too hot. Amelia shoved off the coat and pushed herself out of Nick’s lap. His hands caught her as she narrowly missed being dumped on the floor of the carriage.
“Amelia?”
“Hot, too hot.” She needed to get this damned corset off. And the dress. All of it needed to go. She reached for buttons and Nicholas stopped her again. Amelia glared at him. “Why do you hate me?”
“What?”
She didn’t have time to explain it. The driver lurched to a reckless stop.
Nick looked out the window. “We’re here. Shall we get you inside so you can take off your dress?”
Finally, someone was making sense. She opened the door for herself and stepped out. The driver moved the carriage again, or the ground, and suddenly she found herself face down in the dirt. “Nick. Something has gone awry.”
“So it would appear. Are you all right?”
“Of course. I don’t know about your carriage driver, though.”
“I think he’s in better shape than you are.”
“I think he might be drunk.”
Nicholas helped her up off the ground. “I’ll be sure to look into it. Let’s get you inside first.”
There were things in Nicholas’s life that he was not exceptionally proud of, and the tactics he’d employed to get Amelia quietly up the back stairs were among them. Letting her walk on her own would have been a catastrophe. She’d managed to fall flat on her face twice, traversing the garden. In the end, the only sensible thing had been to pick her up and carry her. If only that had been the end of it, Nicholas could have counted it as chivalry and maintained his sense of honor.
Amelia, while intoxicated, was quite talkative. She wanted to chatter on and question everything. The only time she wasn’t attempting to get them both in serious trouble was when she used her lips and tongue against his skin—God above—in ways Nicholas had only imagined in his most memorable of dreams.
And so he encouraged her.
He let her slide her hands under his clothes and wreak havoc with his senses for every agonizing step up the stairs, down the hall, and into her bedroom. By the time he deposited her on the plush carpet in front of her dressing table, he was rock hard and thoroughly ashamed of himself. It had seemed the only way, but his enjoyment of it with the state she was in was reprehensible.
When he set her down, she was not inclined to stop.
“Amelia,” Nicholas groaned as her fingers rubbed him through his trousers. “You must stop.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Don’t you want to go to sleep?”
She shook her head, tracing her tongue across his nipple. Thanks to her efforts on the stairs, his shirt was hanging from a single shoulder. “Nope.”
Nicholas was in very real trouble.
Fortunately, her assault stopped briefly when she started tugging at her own clothes again. She turned her back to him, gesturing for him to undo her buttons. He certainly couldn’t leave her like this. Helping her undress was a necessity, not taking advantage. He kept repeating that to himself.
Unfastening her clothing with businesslike efficiency, Nicholas stepped away. He began refastening his own clothing while she was distracted with freeing herself from the dress. If he could just get his own clothes back in place, he’d make it out of here in one piece.
“Nick.”
He looked up. She’d managed more than the dress. Amelia was completely naked. She was a nymph, all soft curves and hair curling down to her waist. She was a predator, the way she was eyeing him with dark intention.
There are certain occasions in every gentleman’s life where he is compelled to behave in an ungentlemanly fashion. This was one of those times for Nicholas. Confronted with Amelia’s perfect, naked form and his own overwhelming arousal, he gave in to a primal instinct as old as life itself.
He turned for the door and fled.