Passion for Him

Amelia turned her head to meet her sister’s gaze. “I lured him to me, and he was angry at me for doing so. He intends to leave Town now, to keep his distance and to prevent me from reaching out to him again.”

“He shows a care for your reputation by this action, but you are upset by it.” Confusion filled Maria’s dark eyes. “Why?”

Tossing up her hands, Amelia said, “Because I do not want him to go! I want to know him, and it pains me greatly that I will not be given that chance. I am distressing Ware and you, yet I cannot seem to set aside my fascination nor can I ignore how weary I am of being left behind. I had enough of such treatment with my father.”

“Amelia…” Maria held out a hand to her. “What is it about this man that has captured you so? Is he comely? No…don’t become angry. I simply wish to understand.”

Amelia sighed. Lack of sleep and inability to eat were taking their toll. She could not fight the feeling that Montoya was slipping away, that every moment when she did nothing took him farther from her. It frustrated her and made her snappish.

“He wore the mask again,” she said finally. “I’ve no notion of what he looks like beneath it, but I do not care. I am moved by the way he talks to me, the way he touches me, the way he kisses me. There is reverence in his handling of me, Maria. Longing. Desire. I do not believe such depth of affection can be feigned. Not the way he expresses it.”

Frowning, Maria looked away, lost in thought. Dark ringlets swung around her bared shoulders and betrayed how unsettled she felt. “How can he feel such things for you after only a few moments’ acquaintance?”

“He says I remind him of a lover lost to him, but in truth I sense he wants me for myself in addition to that.” Amelia’s fingertips plucked at the edge of her bed linens. “He originally approached me because of her, but when he came again it was for me.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I am certain of nothing, and now I suppose I never will be.” She looked toward the open door to her boudoir, afraid her features would reveal too much.

“Because he is departing.” Maria’s voice softened. “Did he say why or where he intends to travel?”

“He says he is in danger of some sort. Deadly danger.”

“From St. John? Or someone else?”

Amelia’s hands fisted into the counterpane. “He has nothing to do with your husband. He said as much and I believe him.”

“Shh,” Maria soothed, standing again. “I know you are distraught, but do not vent your frustration on me. I want to help you.”

“How?” Amelia challenged. “Will you help me find him?”

“Yes.”

Frozen with disbelief, Amelia stared at her sibling. “Truly?”

“Of course.” Maria’s shoulders went back, a sure sign of her determination. “St. John’s men look for him, but we have an advantage. You are the only person to manage close proximity to this man.”

Amelia was speechless for a moment. She had not expected anyone to champion her desire to pursue Montoya, and she could not have selected a better person to help her than Maria, who was afraid of nothing and well versed in finding things that did not wish to be found. “Ware searches for him, too.”

“Poor Count Montoya,” Maria said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her and collecting her hands. “I pity him. He espies a pretty woman and because of it, becomes hunted from all sides. St. John will seek him in a criminal’s fashion. Ware will seek him in a peer’s fashion. So you and I must seek Montoya in a woman’s fashion.”

“And how would that be?” Amelia asked, frowning.

“By shopping, of course.” Maria smiled, and the entire room brightened. “We will visit all the purveyors of masks that we can find and see if any recall the count. If he always covers his face, he must procure a great many of the things. If not, perhaps it was a recent purchase and he left an indelible impression. It is not much, but it’s a start. We will have to take care, of course. If he is in danger, finding him will bring that danger to us. You must trust me and listen to me implicitly. Agreed?”

“Yes.” Amelia’s lower lip quivered, and she bit it to hide the betraying movement. Her hands tightened on her sister’s. “Thank you, Maria. Thank you so much.”

Maria caught her close and kissed her forehead. “I will always be here to help you, poppet. Always.”

The quiet declaration gave Amelia strength, and she clung to it as she slipped from the bed and began to prepare for the day ahead.

Chapter 8

There was a leisurely pace to the pedestrians, carts, and carriages that traveled down the street. The day was sunny and comfortably warm, the air cleansed from a brief spate of early morning rain. Colin, however, was far from relaxed. Something about the day did not sit well with him.

“You should not worry so much,” Jacques said. “She will be fine. No one has connected you to your past or to Miss Benbridge.”

Colin smiled ruefully. “Am I so transparent?”

“Oui. In your unguarded moments.”

Staring out the carriage window, Colin noted the many people going about their daily business. For his part, his business this afternoon was leaving Town. His carriage was presently wending its way toward the road that would lead them to Bristol. Their trunks were loaded and their account with the rental property was settled.

He remained unsettled.

The feeling that he was leaving his heart behind was worse than before. His mortality was something he began to feel more keenly each day. Life was finite, and the thought that the entirety of his would be spent without Amelia in it was too painful to bear.

“I have never shared a carriage with her,” he said, his gloved fingers wrapping around the window ledge. “I have never sat at a table with her and shared a meal. Everything I have done these last years was in pursuit of a higher station, one that would afford me the privilege to enjoy all the facets of her life.”

Jacques’s dark eyes watched him from beneath the rim of his hat. He sat on the opposite squab, his compact body as relaxed as Colin had ever seen it, but still thrumming with energy.

“Soon after my parents died,” Colin murmured, staring out at the view of the street, “my uncle accepted the position of coachman to Lord Welton. The wages were dismal and we were forced to leave the Romany camp, but my uncle felt it was more stable than the Gypsy life. He had been a dedicated bachelor prior to my arrival, but he took the burden of my care very seriously.”

“So that is where your honor comes from,” the Frenchman said.

Colin smiled slightly. “I was wretched at the change. At ten years of age, I felt the loss of my friends keenly, especially following so soon after the loss of my father and mother. I was certain my life was over and I would be miserable forever. And then, I saw her.”

In his mind’s eye, he remembered the day as if it were yesterday. “She was only seven years old, but I was awed. With her dark curls, porcelain skin, and green eyes, she looked like a beautiful doll. Then she held out a dirty hand to me, smiled a smile that was missing teeth, and asked me to play.”

“Enchante,” Jacques murmured.

“Yes, she was. Amelia was a dozen playmates in one-adventurous, challenging, and resourceful. I rushed through my chores just so I could be with her.” Sighing, Colin leaned his head back against the squab and closed his eyes. “I remember the day I first rode as rear footman on the carriage. I felt so mature and proud of my accomplishment. She was happy for me, too, her eyes bright and filled with joy. Then, I realized that while she sat inside, I stood outside, and I would never be allowed to sit with her.”

“You have changed a great deal since then, mon ami. There is no such divide between you now.”