Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

“Amelia, you-”

“No!” she cried. “Don’t say anything. Please, you’ll only make it worse. I’m sorry. I’ve put you in a terrible position, and-”

“Stop.” He put his hands on her shoulders, his grip firm and warm, and she wanted so much to let her head sigh to the side, so she could rest her cheek against him.

But she didn’t.

“Amelia,” he said. He looked as if he was searching for words. Which could not be a good sign. If he loved her…if he wanted her to know this…wouldn’t he know what to say?

“It has been a most unusual day,” he said haltingly. “And-” He cleared his throat. “Many things have happened, and it would not be surprising if you thought that-”

“You think I just came to this conclusion this afternoon?”

“I don’t-”

But she could not even begin to tolerate his condescension. “Did you ever wonder why I fought so hard against having to marry Mr. Audley?”

“Actually,” he said rather quietly, “you did not say much.”

“Because I was dumbfounded! Thunderstruck. How do you think you would feel if your father suddenly demanded you marry someone you’d never met, and then your fiance, with whom you thought you were finally forming a friendship, turned and demanded the same thing?”

“It was for your own good, Amelia.”

“No, it was not!” She shook him off, practically screaming the words. “Would it really be for my own good to be forced into marriage with a man who is in love with Grace Eversleigh? I’d only just stopped thinking I was going to get that with you!”

There was an awful silence.

She had not just said that. Please, please, she didn’t just say that.

His face went slack with surprise. “You thought I was in love with Grace?”

“She certainly knew you better than I did,” she muttered.

“No, I wouldn’t-I mean, I didn’t, except-”

“Except what?”

“Nothing.” But he looked guilty. Of something.

“Tell me.”

“Amelia-”

“Tell me!”

And she must have looked a complete virago, ready to go for his throat, because he shot back with, “I asked her to marry me.”

“What?”

“It did not mean anything.”

“You asked someone to marry you and it did not mean anything?”

“It’s not how it sounded.”

“When did you do this?”

“Before we left for Ireland,” he admitted.

“Before we-” Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “You were still engaged to me. You can’t ask someone to marry you when you are promised to another.”

It was the most unbelievably un-Thomas action she could have ever imagined.

“Amelia-”

“No.” She shook her head. She did not want to hear his excuses. “How could you do this? You always do the right thing. Always. Even when it’s a bloody nuisance, you always-”

“I didn’t think I would be engaged to you for very much longer,” he cut in. “I just said to her that if Audley turned out to be the duke, that perhaps we ought make a go of it when it was all over and done with.”

“Make a go?” she echoed.

“I didn’t say it like that,” he muttered.

“Oh, my God.”

“Amelia…”

She blinked, trying to take it all in. “But you wouldn’t marry me,” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

She looked up, finally able to focus on his face. Sharply, on his eyes, and for once she did not care how blue they were. “You said you would not marry me if you lost the title. But you would marry Grace?”

“It’s not the same thing,” he said. But he looked embarrassed.

“Why? How? How is it different?”

“Because you deserved more.”

Her eyes widened. “I think you just insulted Grace.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair. “You’re twisting my words.”

“I think you are doing a fine job of twisting them yourself.”

He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm his temper. “Your whole life you have expected to marry a duke.”

“What does that matter?”

“What does that matter?” For a moment he looked incapable of words. “You have no idea what your life might be, stripped of your connections and your money.”

“I don’t need that,” she protested.

But he continued as if he had not heard her. “I have nothing, Amelia. I have no money, no property-”

“You have yourself.”

He gave a self-mocking snort. “I don’t even know who that is.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“You’re not being realistic.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“Amelia, you-”

“No,” she cut in angrily. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe the level of your insult.”

“My insult?”

“Am I really such a hothouse flower that you don’t think I could withstand the tiniest of hardships?”

“It won’t be tiny.”

“But Grace could do it.”

His expression grew stony, and he did not reply.

“What did she say?” Amelia asked, her words almost a sneer.

“What?”

Her voice grew in volume. “What did Grace say?”

He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“You asked her to marry you,” she ground out. “What did she say?”

“She refused,” he finally replied, his voice clipped.

“Did you kiss her?”

“Amelia…”

“Did you?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Did you kiss her?”

“Yes!” he exploded. “Yes, for the love of God, I kissed her, but it was nothing. Nothing! I tried, believe me I tried to feel something, but it was nothing like this.” He grabbed her then, and his lips came down on hers so fast and so hard that she did not have time to breathe. And then it didn’t matter. His hands were on her, pressing her against him-hard-and she could feel his arousal against her, and she wanted him.

She wanted this.

She tore at his clothing, wanting nothing so much as the heat of his skin against hers. His lips were on her