Page 105 of The Lyon Whisperer
What the hell was the matter with him?
Other than the fact he’d wanted to kiss her, desperately, in the middle of the day, traveling down a crowded street, in the heart of the city. Little did his wife know he’d been a hair’s breadth from dragging her into her arms when they made the untimely arrival to Madame Eloise’s shop.
It would have shocked her to her glossy boot tips if he had, and it would have served her right. Amelia, with her poking and prodding into his personal predilections as if she really cared to know.
But turnabout was fair play, and he decided to indulge his own curiosity about her, asking her to explain something he’d long wondered—her choice of Flora MacIver as her alias when she’d ventured to his house at midnight to make her premarital demands.
Her answer had struck him dumb, because ofcourseshe’d chosen Flora MacIver for the values the fictional character embodied, those of selfless giving and bravery and standing up for what was right—exactly like Amelia, herself.
He’d never known a woman like her—one who would put herself out, even to the point of waking at dawn to see to a pack of rescued mongrels.
He wasn’t discounting his aunt, who had taken him in after the death of his father, no questions asked.
But Amelia. She was so…Godwhat she did to him. She drove him half mad with wanting her every moment of every day. It was everything he’d never wanted.
He’d vowed never to let himself be ensnared by a woman’s charms, and, to date, he never had. It had never been an issue with any other woman, though many had tried.
Even Millicent, whom he briefly considered marrying, had not come close to tangling him up inside. That had been part of her appeal.
It wasn’t as if Amelia plied him with her feminine wiles, though she had them aplenty.
She beguiled him with her essence. The way she cared for every man, woman, child, and beast in her vicinity—including those others dismissed as inconsequential.
Witness the fact she knew every member of their household staff by name in the length of a week.Hedidn’t even know half their names.
And the way she cared for those strays. He could still see her, the night he thought to catch her attempting to flee and instead came upon her coddling those damned pups.
Had it even occurred to her to shirk the work onto the servants?
Doubtful. She probably worried she’d somehow get them into trouble should he discover the dogs on property.
To her credit, she had not snuck them inside the manse.
He slapped his hand against his forehead and groaned. Hell’s teeth. Was he really buying into her semantics?
He closed his eyes and silently admitted that, yes, he was.
He was in danger of allowing the woman to wrap him around her little finger. He needed to get himself in hand, starting now.
He snatched up the briefcase he’d brought with him and withdrew the revised contact he’d received from the ship builders. They’d agreed to take a delay in the lumber delivery if he, in turn, would accept a severely docked remuneration for said delivery. He was leaning toward accepting their offer, and taking a loss, in hopes of building a long-term, mutually profitable relationship.
For the remainder of the short ride, he calculated potential profit and loss going forward, and did his best to ignore the niggling feeling he should return to Bond Street, and Amelia.
Amelia peeked throughEloise’s display window to the street, watching until her husband’s coach disappeared from view. Then she did a silent countdown, starting at five hundred.
A handful of patrons milled about the small shop, with the two nearest her discussing in muted tones the merits of the various embellishments Eloise offered.
Their conversation ceased abruptly, and Amelia noted from the corner of her eye their curious gazes fixed on her.
She studied the mannequin in the window, as if fascinated by the gown’s trim.
Their conversation resumed.
A moment later, she let herself out.
She stood on tiptoe searching for her husband’s vehicle. Satisfied it was nowhere in sight, she started for Hoby and Sheppard and realized her first mistake. The last time she ventured to the shop, also on foot, she’d departed from the much closer distance of Smith’s Haberdashery. She hadn’t considered how far she’d have to walk in a limited time.
Nor had she brought Sally along for propriety’s sake. Just as well. Sally would have grumbled the whole way about the unseasonable warmth of the day and the pace Amelia set.
