Page 23 of His Spirited Lady
His eyes sparked. “Because beautiful young ladies holding themselves at a distance are a challenge, as your Mr. Raymond has proved. Their only deterrent is a family afraid of a scandal, whether it’s a loon in the attic or a broken-hearted miss jilted after…poorly timed anticipation.” He waved his hand toward the stairs and the stills below. “Better to just be the loon and have done with it.”
She should argue over his interpretation of society, but he was right. She was also too busy thinking. She didn’t want to be the loon, truly. What she wanted was to have a life of her own making, which she would never have in theton. So what she needed was a fiancé of her own choosing.
Someone handsome and charming enough to make everyone believe she’d fallen for him in a whirlwind courtship, but rakish enough to imply a scandal at some point. Perhaps someone who could agree to jilt her. Definitely someone who could agree to a temporary arrangement, who understood this as a business relationship.
Richard stood in front of her, waiting for her to agree with him. He ticked every item on her list and, if Oliver was to be believed, was always up for a lark. Better yet, he was leaving after his wine was sold and his visit was concluded. He’d be across an ocean living out his life on a wild continent.
Amelia licked her lips and prepared to do one more thing a well-bred lady would never do. Propose. “Would you be my fiancé?”
*
“Have you beensampling the barrel?”
It was the only reason logical reason for her question, except the most obvious. However, it was difficult to believe Amelia would use refusing to marry as a ploytomarry.
“Not a real one, of course.” Amelia paced away from him, giving him a view of the braces crossing just below her shoulder blades and gathering the too-large linen shirt with them. “Just one to make sure I’m scandalous enough to avoid afterward. Someone who won’t be around, so it can be assumed…”
She’d most likely snatched the shirt from the servant’s laundry, and it had most likely belonged to a field hand given the thick rolls of fabric bouncing against her forearms as she waved away his shock.
“So it can be assumed that I ran away and broke your heart?” A startling idea flitted across his brain, no doubt inspired by her split skirt. Who knew gray wool could sway like that? “Or be accused of ruining you before I ran?”
Oliver would shoot him.
“It wouldn’t have to be that way,” she said. “I could do something to make you run.” Her grin, when she spun, had the same devilish spark as when she’d negotiated about distributing his wine. “That would certainly keep everyone at bay.”
Her father would shoot him.
“No.” Richard shook his head to emphasize the point. “Absolutely not.”
She grew quiet then, and he breathed easier. Every inhale smelled of grassy wheat and fermenting fruit, reminding him that she was already scandalous. No wonder her thoughts went down that road like a log down a sluice.
As did his when her position in front of the window let the sunshine filter though her shirt like a curtain, casting her curves in silhouette. He cast his gaze around the room, searching for another focus, but finding none. Instead, he walked away from the window, hoping she’d follow. When she did, relief and frustration mingled into a dangerous and unfamiliar potion.
“I suppose I could ask someone else,” Amelia murmured, her eyes fixed on the grain like she could read a name in it. “It would just be easier if the man knew everything beforehand. I don’t have much time.”
“Ask Drake then,” Richard said. “He is at least familiar to more people, including your parents. It might make it more believable.”
The thought of the other man helping with this cockamamie plan stung more than was comfortable.
“I don’t believe I can afford him.”
Her giggle made Richard uncomfortable for different reasons altogether. He could imagine it at night when they were alone in the dark, which made him realize they were alone here in a shadowy spot. Worse, he could imagine it as her co-conspirator, wreaking havoc on her potential suitors. Wiping the condescension from Ethan Raymond’s face was a good reason to reconsider.
“And you think I’m less expensive?”
He’d intended it as a joke, but hope lit her face. “Does that mean you would if—”
He walked to her, the wide scaffold bouncing under his boots. “Do not insult yourself.”
“But it is a business arrangement, and I didn’t expect you to do it for nothing.”
Oh, he had all sorts of ideas about his reward. They doubled when he put his hands on her shoulders. Her heat soaked through the well-worn, almost silky linen shirt, teasing his palms as much as her curves tempted his fingers. Now that he knew how she spent her time, it was easy to identify her scent. She smelled of whiskey mash.
“You haven’t thought this through.” Richard’s fingers surrendered first, curling around Amelia’s delicate shoulders. His palms were next, sliding down her arms to her elbows. The contours of her biceps were a reminder that she wasn’t a typical society miss, making him imagine how work would have toned the rest of her.
Her cheeks had flushed the most appealing pink, and her wide-eyed gaze held his. The air between them was so still Richard swore he could hear the roof trusses creak in the wind. He had all of Amelia’s attention, and one chance to convince her this was foolish.
That’s the only reason he didn’t release her.
