Page 63 of The Lyon Whisperer
A rush of heat surged though her at the mere sound of his voice. Chiding herself, she pasted a demure smile on her face and strolled into the chamber, making for the seating area. “Good evening, sir. I trust the travel between here and London has not proven too taxing.”
He waved that off. “No discomfort the fresh air upon crossing the border between London and Wimbledon does not outweigh.” He sauntered toward her, two crystal glasses in hand.
She chose the sofa, rather than one of the armchairs, watching from beneath her lashes as Chase lowered himself to sit beside her.
He handed her a glass of sherry, his fingers brushing hers as she accepted it. A shiver of awareness rippled through her. “Thank you.”
He stretched one arm along the back of the sofa. His spicy cologne wafted in and out of the air around her. She drew a discreet lungful of the intoxicating scent, and her toes curled in her satin slippers.
“You look very lovely tonight, Amelia,” he said in a low voice.
She took a moment to sip her sherry and collect herself. The cool, sweet wine soothed her suddenly dry throat. “Thank you.”
“What did you do today in my absence, Amelia?”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” He leaned back with cat-like grace, his eyes never leaving hers. “There’s something you should know about me. I don’t like the feeling I’m being told less than the truth.”
“I’m afraid I have no notion of what you mean.”
His mouth twitched in a humorless smile. “This morning, at breakfast, I got the distinct impression you had something on your mind, something you did not wish to share with me. Dare I say, it was something which you wished to hide. Was I wrong?”
A sense of inevitability filled her. She had been looking for just such an opportunity to broach the very delicate subject. “As a matter of fact, I do have something I wish to discuss with you. It involves…” she took a fortifying sip of sherry, then set it onto the closest side table with a click, “…something I believe you have been less than truthful about with me.”
He paused, his sherry halfway to his mouth. “I don’t follow.” Then, appearing to overcome what she thought might be surprise, he sipped.
“I think I know why you married me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Chase had chosenthe wrong moment to sip his wine.
At hearing his wife’s blithe announcement she somehow knew about the bet between his uncle and her father, he inhaled sharply—and drew the liquid down the wrong pipe.
He lurched forward, coughing, and somehow managed not to snort wine out his nose. Not much, at any rate.Bloody hell.
Amelia reacted at once, rapping him vigorously between his shoulder blades. “My lord, Chase, are you quite all right?”
He raised a hand, staying her attempts to pound the breath back into him. He choked out a hoarse, “Fine.”
He withdrew a handkerchief from his waistcoat, mopping his face and buying time to think.
His wife perched on the sofa beside him, studying him. Clear concern—for him—puckered her fine brows. She seemed remarkably unperturbed, otherwise. He’d have staked his life that would not be the case should she learn what precipitated their engagement.
He replayed her exact words in his head.I think I know why you married me.
I think,notI know.
He sent her a bland smile. “I’m afraid I do not understand. Why I married you…Can you elaborate?”
She licked her lips. “Yes. Yes, I think that would be best.” She folded her elegant hands in her lap and gave him a frank stare. “This morning, when you shared your heart’s desire with me…”
Heart’s desire?He’d hardly call his aim to help the country’s veterans that.
“I was deeply moved. I find…” She broke off. A fine pink stain rose up her cheeks.
In the span of their short acquaintance, he had rarely seen her discomfited. His interest sharpened.
