Page 66 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
He bit the inside of his lip to rein in the retort that immediately came to his tongue. He did desire Amelia. He may not love her, but he liked her, and once she was ready, he looked forward to bedding her.
Telling Florence that would help nothing. She was motivated by competition, not put off by it.
“Our affair is over.” His tone brooked no argument. “I made it clear that you need to seek protection elsewhere.”
Her eyes widened as if he had genuinely surprised her, but she hid it quickly. “You’re married now. You have money. We can continue as we were.”
Andrew pursed his lips. The heat of his anger had faded, although the frustration remained. He couldn’t help but feel that this was partly his fault. Perhaps he hadn’t been firm enough with her when he ended their arrangement. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, just as he didn’t want to hurt her now.
Whatever their reasons, they’d been intimate with each other, and he’d enjoyed her company. He hated the idea of causing her pain. But he had to put Amelia first.
“I won’t use my wife’s dowry to pay to keep a mistress.” He straightened his back. “It wouldn’t be right. She deserves better.”
“I deserve better,” she interjected. “You used me and cast me aside when you were done with me.”
The blade of guilt twisted. It was an accurate, if somewhat unfair, accusation.
“I’m sorry for that. But you knew from the beginning that what we had wouldn’t last. I enjoyed it, and perhaps you did, too, but it’s over now. If you need a one-off payment while you get back on your feet, I’ll consider it, but tell me now, and then don’t approach me again.”
She gritted her teeth. “You’re actually choosing her over me?”
“She’s my wife.” Surely, that should say it all.
“Keep the mouse’s money.” She turned her back on him. “You can see yourself out. But just know, you’ll regret this.”
CHAPTER 16
“May I join you?”
Amelia glanced toward the library entrance, where Kate hovered, gripping the handle of a small basket. “Please do.”
Kate padded through the doorway and sat on a chair beside one of the small windows. “Will it bother you if I do needlework while you read?”
“Of course not.” Amelia marked her page with a blue ribbon and closed the book. “What are you making?”
Tucking a loose lock of reddish-blond hair behind her ear, Kate offered a tentative smile. “Last time we were in Suffolk, I painted a watercolor of the front garden at dusk. Now, I’m re-creating the image as a needlepoint design, which will last longer, if I can get it right.”
“I’m certain you’ll do it justice,” she said, debating whether or not showing more interest would make Kate uncomfortable. “May I see the painting?”
Kate reached into the basket, withdrew a leatherbound volume and opened it, carefully withdrawing a slip of nearly translucent paper from within. She carried it across to where Amelia sat and offered it to her.
Amelia’s breath caught. “It’s stunning.”
Kate had perfectly captured the play of golden light and shadows over the flowers while maintaining a sense of the ethereal, as if the scene had been too beautiful for this world.
“You are very talented.” She could scarcely tear her eyes from the painting, but managed to do so just in time to see a blush form across Kate’s cheeks.
Kate ducked her head. “I’m passably good.”
“No.” Amelia’s tone was firm. “This is gorgeous. You have real skill, and an eye for how to make colors work together.”
Personally, she’d never been particularly good at anything artistic, but she recognized genuine talent when she saw it.
Kate slid the painting back between the pages of the book and gently closed it. “Thank you.” She fidgeted, as though uncomfortable with the praise. “I’ve always liked working with colors, whether it’s painting, needlepoint, or pairing different fabric types for new outfits.”
“You do have an exceptionally smart wardrobe.” Amelia had thought the credit for that could be laid at Lady Drake’s feet—or perhaps their modiste’s—but now she began to wonder.
“Thank you.” Kate brightened and raised her head, excitement gleaming in the pale gray of her eyes. “I enjoy following fashion. Mother often allows me to choose which fabrics to pair, and how to accessorize my dresses, but sometimes she refuses to allow me to select a certain combination because it would be too daring or bold for someone who is not even out in society yet.”
