Page 92 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Her breath hitched, and she raised her eyes to his. “You aren’t…?”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I don’t want her. I only want you.”
For a moment, the tension left her, but then her lips thinned. “For how long?”
He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
Her teeth scraped over her lower lip, and she tucked her hair behind her ear. “For now, I’m a novelty, but eventually, you’ll tire of me.”
“I sincerely doubt that will happen.” Not with how obsessed he’d become with his wife. The thought of touching another woman made him ill. Why would he want or need anyone else when there was so much left for him to discover about Amelia? So many facets of her yet to explore.
“It will.” Her tone brooked no argument. “At some point.”
He leaned forward. “I don’t think you’re being fair. You can’t possibly know how I’ll feel or what I’ll want before I even know that myself.”
“Perhaps not.” She stood and walked to the window, standing framed by the light with her back to him. “But I’d like to be alone now, please.”
The clock ticked.Amelia clung to her skirts, her heart hammering wildly despite her calm exterior. She was terrified that Andrew would refuse, and then she’d have to continue to hold herself together when everything inside her was crumbling.
Thankfully, he murmured, “Very well,” and excused himself.
The instant the door clicked shut, she blinked, and a tear trickled from the corner of her eye and skated down her cheek. Another followed, and she released a shuddering breath. She forced herself to remain silent. If she made a sound, there was every chance he’d return.
She tiptoed to the sofa and flopped onto it, resting her head on its arm and closing her eyes as her tears continued to fall.
“Do not dwell on it,” she hissed at herself.
She shouldn’t be so upset. She’d never expected love from her husband, and even when she’d suggested their arrangement, she’d known there was a strong possibility he’d be unfaithful. Andrew was right about one thing. It wasn’t fair for her to feel this way. Especially when she’d never been under any illusion about what this marriage was.
And all right, perhaps Andrew had told the truth about his arrangement with Miss Giles, and it truly was over, but for some reason, that didn’t calm her.
Miss Giles was beautiful. She was brave and bold and many, many things that Amelia wasn’t.
If she was the type of woman to appeal to Andrew, then Amelia would have to admit that all the passion and desire she’d experienced toward him could never be fully reciprocated. Not when she was so different from the type of woman he chose to dally with when he wasn’t backed into a corner by his financial obligations.
Perhaps he was genuinely fond of Amelia, but she would always be the wife he’d had to marry, not one he’d chosen because he wanted her.
That hurt.
“Amelia?”
She jerked upright, swiping at her tear-stained cheeks. Kate stood in the doorway, her brow wrinkled with concern. Amelia had been so consumed by self-pity that she hadn’t heard the door open.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked, padding inside and closing the door behind herself. “Why are you upset?”
Amelia deflated. She’d never get away with pretending to be fine after what Kate had witnessed. “It’s nothing.”
Kate arched an eyebrow. Her hair—a few shades lighterthan Andrew’s—bounced around her shoulders as she crossed the room and perched on the other arm of the sofa.
“If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be in tears.”
Amelia exhaled sharply. “You are persistent, aren’t you?”
Kate crossed her ankles and propped her chin on her hand. “Only when it matters.”
“Fine.” Clearly she wouldn’t be getting rid of Kate without telling her something. “But I fear that you’ll either think me foolish or be angry with your brother.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned in her gray eyes. “My brother has behaved foolishly.”
