The realization made him pause, again evoked a reaction, a concern he couldn't easily shrug aside.
When he walked into their bedroom later that night, Amelia was already abed, lying back on the pillows, her curls a gilded frame for her face. Calmly expectant, she watched him approach. He halted by the side of the bed, caught her gaze.
Reached for the tie of his robe. 'You've been very helpful with my sisters — all of them.' He shrugged out of the robe, let it fall. Watched her gaze drift down from his face. 'Why?'
'Why?' Her gaze didn't leave his body as he joined her on the bed, then she reached for him and lifted her eyes to his. 'Because I like them, of course. I've known them all their lives, and they need, perhaps not help, but guidance.'
She watched while he slid down beside her, and skin met skin, then she lifted a hand and brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen across his brow. 'Your mother… it's been a long time since she had to deal with such things, and such things have changed with the years in many cases.'
'So you're doing it for them?'
She smiled, settled invitingly back, her fingers trailing down his cheek. 'For them, for you, for us.'
He hesitated; the 'for you' he'd hoped for, hoped he understood. Wasn't about to ask. 'Us?'
She laughed. 'They're your sisters, we're married — that makes them my sisters-in-law. They're family, and they need advice — advice I can give. So of course I'll do what I can to ease their way.'
Her hand slid into his hair, firmed as she drew his head to hers. 'You worry about them too much. They're clever and bright — they'll do perfectly well. Trust me.'
He did. His lips closed on hers, and he let the matter slide. Let another take its place. Let the power and the passion strip away their thoughts, let sensation and emotion rule, let their bodies fuse in concert with their souls.
Later, when moonlight painted a swath across their bed, he lay with Amelia asleep beside him and tentatively adjusted his thoughts.
He cared deeply for his sisters; Amelia knew that. He'd wondered what her motives in assisting with them were. A telling reaction; when it came to her and what was now between them, he could barely believe how far his uncertainty stretched. He'd imagined it possible that in seeking to control his sisters as well as his household, she was seeking, ultimately, to control him.
His position — his very self — was so deeply rooted in his home, in his family, that controlling both would effectively give her considerable influence over him. While he'd expected her to rule his household, he hadn't foreseen her helping with his sisters.
More fool him, but he was starting to suspect he'd been — was still being — foolish on a wider front.
He'd long recognized love for the power that it was, had always been wary that it would prove strong enough to rule him. As, indeed, he now knew it was.
She'd always been a terribly managing female, one as stubborn as he, yet she'd been the only woman he'd ever truly wanted, ever wanted as his wife. And now she was.
His wariness, his distrust — his continuing uncertainty — all stemmed from the fact that he didn't know
He still didn't know.
But finally, belatedly, very likely foolishly so, he was starting to believe that it wasn't a wish to rule him that drove her.
The next afternoon, Amelia was sitting in her parlor toting up her household accounts when Higgs looked in.
'A curricle's coming up the drive, ma'am. Dark-haired gentleman, dark-haired lady — not anyone from 'round about but I do think I might have seen them at your wedding.'
Mystified, Amelia set down her pen. 'I'll come and see.'
She was expecting Amanda and Martin, together with her parents, Simon and her aunt Helena, all who'd been visiting at Hathersage, Amanda's new home which Amelia had yet to see, in a few days. Concern over what had brought anyone else earlier made her walk quickly to the front hall.
Cottsloe opened the front door and she stepped out, raised a hand to shade her eyes against the slanting sun, and searched the long, curving drive. She spotted the curricle starting the long climb toward the house.
Stepping back, she glanced at Cottsloe. 'Please tell his lordship that Lucifer and Phyllida have arrived.'
Turning, she went out onto the portico to greet her cousin and his wife.
'What's wrong?' she asked the instant Lucifer stepped down from his curricle.
His gaze went past her to the groom hurrying up to take charge of his horses, then shifted to the portico where Cottsloe waited, a footman hovering, about to come for their luggage. Turning to her with his customary rakish smile, he enveloped her in a hug, planted a kiss on her cheek. 'I'll tell all later, when it's just you and Luc and me.'
'And me.' Phyllida prodded his back.
Lucifer turned and lifted her down. 'And you, of course. That goes without saying.'
Phyllida threw him a look, then embraced Amelia. 'Don't worry,' Phyllida whispered. 'No one's in any danger.'
Lucifer was scanning the surrounding fields. 'Superb country.'
Phyllida and Amelia exchanged glances, then linked arms and headed for the house. 'Now, quite aside from that,' Phyllida said, 'you must tell me everything. I'm here in lieu of everyone still in the south. How are you getting on?' Glancing ahead, Phyllida saw Luc step onto the portico. 'Ah, here's your handsome husband. He's almost as hideously handsome as mine.'
'Almost?' Amelia laughed. 'Each to our own taste, I suppose.'
'Indubitably,' Phyllida replied.
Luc lifted a brow as they neared, his gaze alert, serious; Amelia signaled with her eyes, murmured 'Later' as she slipped past to give her orders to Higgs.
There was plenty to talk about, laugh about; a late-afternoon tea and subsequently dinner sped by. Luc and Lucifer denied any interest in port, so the family settled comfortably in the drawing room.
Eventually, the girls and Miss Pink retired; after a few minutes, Minerva followed them upstairs. Luc rose as the door closed behind her. Crossing to the sideboard, he poured brandy into two glasses, handed one to Lucifer, then sank onto the arm of Amelia's armchair.
He sipped, then asked, 'What's the problem?'
Lucifer circled the room with his gaze, then looked at Luc.
'No one can hear us. All their rooms are sufficiently distant.'
Lucifer nodded. 'Right then. Our problem isn't clear. The facts, however, are these. After your wedding, Phyllida and I returned to London, intending to spend a week or so there, in my case, touching base with my various contacts.'
Luc nodded; he knew of Lucifer's interest in silver and jewelry.
'One afternoon, while looking over an old acquaintance's stock, I came upon an ancient silver saltcellar. When I asked where the dealer had got it, he admitted it had been brought to his back door by one of the'scavengers,' his term for those who receive goods with no declarable provenance.'
'Stolen goods?'
'Usually. Generally the better dealers avoid such goods, but in the case of the saltcellar, the dealer hadn't been able to resist.' Lucifer's brows rose. 'Luckily for us. The last time I saw that saltcellar it was at the Place. It was presented to one of my great-something-grandfathers for services to the Crown.'
Amelia sat forward. 'It'd been stolen from Somersham?'
Lucifer nodded. 'And that wasn't all that was taken. I retrieved the saltcellar, and we took it back to the Place. We arrived there to find Honoria seriously vexed. That morning she'd received three letters from various family members who'd stayed overnight. They were all missing small items — a Sevres snuffbox, a gold bracelet, an amethyst brooch.'
'That sounds like the same thief who's been filching items from all over London.' Luc frowned. 'There's some reason you've come all this way to tell us.'
'Indeed, but let's not jump to any conclusions, because, frankly, we don't have sufficient facts. However, the
