24. Prelude to a Seduction

PRELUDE TO A SEDUCTION

H e'd walked out on her.

In the middle of a meal.

Again .

For a full minute after the door had slammed behind him, Amelia sat frozen, silently willing him to return but knowing he would not.

If not for the sheer force of her good manners, she would have stormed out behind him or simply fled to her chamber where she could nurse her bruised pride.

But an entire meal had been prepared. Mr. Beckworth's servants had no doubt spent hours slicing and chopping vegetables, cleaning the various meats, and seasoning and cooking each dish to delightful perfection.

And she refused to take it for granted. Having been denied the choice to decide what, and how much food she could eat her entire life, her feelings stretched beyond normal appreciation.

And so, she remained in the dining room alone, chipping away at her meal, bite by bite, until she'd finished half of the food she'd served herself.

Even if, in the aftermath of Mr. Beckworth's rejection, it had all gone down tasting like sawdust.

Amelia set down her knife and fork and stared over at Mr. Beckworth's barely touched place setting. At the empty chair, still askew after his hasty departure.

He'd said this was only temporary. " In a matter of weeks, you're going to be back with your parents, dancing at balls and taking tea with other ladies like yourself…"

It felt impossible after all she'd experienced, with how different she saw her life now.

But that was how this was supposed to go, wasn't it? Playing the part of a proper lady was what her family wanted. Mr. Beckworth had planned to send her back from the beginning.

It was the happy ending she should wish for, with her returned to her mother and father, all of them safe and sound. And Northwoods would be there, waiting in the wings, possibly the only titled man willing to marry her after she'd been jilted by Lord Winterhope.

Not to mention all of this…

By the time she returned to her chamber, her belly was full, her head muddled, and her heart… empty.

Amelia quietly closed the door behind her and then drifted across to where two chairs were placed facing one another. One where she'd worked on Mr. Toad most of the afternoon and the other…

Where she'd quite possibly experienced the most exciting few minutes of her entire life.

But it hadn't only been exciting. There had been pleasure, of course, but something else…

Keeping her gaze fixed on that spot, Amelia dropped into the other seat.

She had kept her eyes closed for most of it, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth, the scraping of his beard, and an ache between her legs that had become more persistent with every stroke of his hands…

He'd skated those hands around her back, over her shoulders, down her arms.

He'd cradled her breasts. And those hands…

She blinked.

They had been shaking.

Absent his willingness to provide her with any real answers tonight, Amelia had no choice but to untangle the meaning of his shaking hands by herself.

People's hands did not shake unless they were unusually affected by something. Especially someone like Mr. Beckworth. In fact, the only other time he'd seemed out of control was when he'd cut her out of her stays.

Even then, however, his hands had been steady, they must have been. Only afterwards, he'd sounded shaken.

In an altogether different way then he'd been today.

Amelia sighed and, not for the first time, wished Clementine was here to help her understand Mr. Beckworth, not to mention her emotions where he was concerned.

Were these the sorts of feelings Clementine had had for Lord Winterhope? If so, Amelia could almost understand why her cousin had claimed him for herself…

Amelia imagined some other lady staking a similar claim on Mr. Beckworth, and immediately, the food she'd consumed rolled alarmingly in her belly.

He'd said there wasn't someone else. Hadn't he?

Even the thought was enough to almost make her ill, and that in itself was more than a little unsettling.

So why had she stopped his hand from trailing all the way up her skirts?

He said she'd stopped because she'd come to her senses, but, in fact, just the opposite had been true.

She hadn't come to her senses; she'd lost them completely. She'd only stopped so she could catch her breath. She'd wanted to be sure.

"You stop when you want to stop. I stop when I want to stop. No exceptions. No expectations . " And then he had added, "No crying."

Rule number two. She'd been following rule number two.

Turning to stare at Mr. Toad, Amelia shook her head. Stupid man . He needed to stop making assumptions about her.

Determined to set the record straight, Amelia marched out of her chamber and nearly ran right into Fanny, causing the maid to drop the linens she'd been carrying.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Amelia gasped.

"Pardon, my lady."

"Oh, no! It was my fault," Amelia insisted. "I wasn't looking where I was going, and I shouldn't have come around the corner so fast. Let me—" She crouched down to help gather what had been a pile of neatly folded cloths.

"Thank you, my lady, but I was running too. Lots happening tonight." Having collected the linens into a new stack, although not nearly as tidy as they had been before, the maid rose with an awkward smile.

But… What was so busy about this evening? A few hairs stood up on the back of Amelia's neck. More than once, Mr. Beckworth had mentioned that she might be in danger. "Has something happened?" she asked.

If Amelia was in danger, and Mr. Beckworth had charged himself with protecting her, wouldn't that put him in danger too?

"All of the men are working down in the cove." Fanny sounded unconcerned.

"Oh," Amelia said. Down in the cove. Which meant… Oh!

Smuggling was at hand!

"Does that mean Mr. Beckworth isn't at home now?"

"No, my lady. These little missions of his can go rather late. I imagine he'll be knackered when he returns."

How could Amelia have her conversation with him if he wasn't here?

"Thank you, Fanny," Amelia said.

"Of course, my lady." Amelia watched the maid scurry away and, not knowing exactly when Mr. Beckworth would return, moved quickly.

Emboldened because all of this was only temporary , Amelia rummaged through the wardrobe in her chamber until her hand landed on a very silky, very flimsy piece of fabric. Even before she had it all the way out, she knew the garment was exactly what she needed.

It, and a matching robe, only required a little freshening. Once she'd discarded her day dress for the scandalous ensemble, however, staring into the looking glass on her vanity, she nearly lost her courage.

But no. If her time at Smuggler's Manor was only temporary, this could be her only chance…

She could do this.

She wanted to do this.

With a nod, Amelia stepped away from the mirror.

Not allowing herself to reconsider her decision, she tiptoed into the corridor, and past the stairs until she was standing outside Mr. Beckworth's chamber.

Recognizing that this was a rather momentous occasion, she turned the nob, entered, and oh, so quietly closed the door behind her.

She was quite willing to wait for as long as it took.

Once she got a few candles burning about the room, Amelia claimed the chair that was identical to the one in her own chamber and made herself comfortable.

And waited.

Because, he may have walked out on her earlier, but tonight, he'd have nowhere else to go.