Page 71 of The Lyon Whisperer
“Then I shall make certain we do.”
Chase locked Amelia’ssmall hand into the crook of his arm as they crossed the graveled courtyard and made for the broad front steps leading into the Brook Street mansion.
Guests hemmed them in from all sides. Tonight was going to be a crush, he thought irritably. With parliament only just back in session after a several-week break from city life, members of the upper crust society had returned from the countryside in droves, ready to see and be seen.
He frowned down at Amelia’s shining mane of black curls as she gazed about with avid interest.
He didn’t like the idea of leaving her to fend for herself in a crowd like this—hungry for gossip after a fortnight of slow-paced country life. Thetondid relish the lateston dit.
But his wish to stay by her side went deeper than that, he admitted with sullen awareness.
She’d looked bloody delectable sitting across from him during the interminable coach ride from Wimbledon. The sight and smell of her, all fresh and feminine and delicate and yet somehow simultaneously strong, pummeled the defenses he’d done his damnedest to erect against her charms ever since leaving her in her bedchamber at dawn earlier this week.
Since that day, he’d striven to nip his weakness for the woman in the bud. He had no idea what else he could do aside from breaking off physical relations, and that, he could not bring himself to do.
Her gemstone eyes, her midnight-black hair, her porcelain skin, her rose-colored lips he might manage to turn a blind eye to—in time. Pretty women who had no substance tended to lose their shine—at least in his experience.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending, Amelia had substance in droves. Her fierce sense of self, combined with a fearless vulnerability she revealed to him again and again, burned through his defenses like acid through paper.
Tonight, when she spoke of her father’s disapproval, he’d had to tamp down on a growing sense of anger toward the man. The more he learned, the less he respected the way the earl had reared his beautiful, sensitive daughter.
He’d also wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss her sweet mouth. To hold her and tell her no man, be it her father or the king of England, would ever make her feel less than perfect ever again.
Damn it, who was he becoming, thanks to her? At this rate he wouldn’t recognize himself in six months’ time.
He did not want to foster a weakness for the woman, and thereby leave himself open to manipulation and loss of control. But the truth was, all he desired at this moment was to drag her back to the coach where he could ravage her mouth and body all the way back to Warren House. He’d be willing to bet, once there, he’d want to have her all over again.
“What is it?” she asked softly as they made their slow progress up the steps toward the front door.
“I don’t follow.”
She looked around as if assuring no one listened. “You’re frowning rather intently.”
He was. He cleared his expression. “Thinking about what I wish to accomplish tonight,” he muttered.
She gave him an encouraging smile. “You will know exactly what to do and say to accomplish your goals, sir. I have no doubt.”
His goals. He hadn’t been thinking about soldiers. No, he’d been caught up with thoughts of her.Again.
After submitting their invitation for the Collier footman’s cursory inspection, they passed through open double doors into a marbled foyer mired with party guests. Perfume, cologne, and sweat permeated the heavy air. Chase used his larger frame to forge a path into the glittering ballroom.
Inside, he urged her along the perimeter until he found a relatively uninhabited square of floor.
“Do you see anyone here with whom you wish to speak?” Amelia asked. She gazed up at him with wide, guileless eyes.
He smiled down at her, charmed despite his best efforts. “Let us deposit you with my aunt before I go to work. She’s bound to be here somewhere.”
His height meant he could see above most of the people present. He scanned the crowded room for Aunt Francine and Uncle Harry.
Occupied with his task, he did not see the fair-haired, curvaceous woman bearing down on them until she stood directly in front of them.
Chapter Sixteen
Lady Millicent Huxley,Countess of Tully, halted before Chase and Amelia. Although she aimed a broad smile at them, her blue eyes glittered with cold calculation.
Years ago, he’d mistaken her cool nature and no-nonsense style as a sign of an intelligent and scientific mind. Now he knew better.
The woman was every bit as intelligent as he assumed. Indeed,cunningwas a more apt word to describe her.
