A Secret Proposal (6 page)

The next morning, Thad didn’t let the presence of Mrs. Templeton stop him. He stood against a column in the Lexingtons’ breakfast room, eyeing Amelia who sat with her mother and the Marquis of Bartholomew. Bartholomew was a pompous windbag. He’d never heard the man speak of anything other than his favorite subject, himself. Thad could not imagine how Amelia was enjoying her breakfast, let alone how she would enjoy her life were she to throw herself away on that old bore.

She met Thad’s eyes briefly and then glanced away, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed over what they’d done together last night. And that hadn’t even been the half of it. If their behavior last night had sent her into a fit of discomfiture just think what would happen if he actually lost his mind and showed her the
real
secrets of a wedding night as she’d requested. She clearly didn’t know what she was getting into.

He watched her laugh at something the marquis had said. The smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was enough to make Thad want to punch the wall. He didn’t want her looking at Bartholomew like that. Didn’t want her laughing with him. Didn’t want her smiling at
him. Didn’t want any of it. Blast it all. He was jealous. Cursing under his breath, Thad escaped the breakfast room.

He made his way down the hallway and out to the Lexingtons’ stables. A good ride was what he needed. Well, that and he needed to stay away from Amelia Templeton. Far away from her, until he could come to his senses and think…decide once and for all how to handle this ridiculous mess. If only he could make her see reason. But she refused to listen. What she needed was a nice, young husband who would love her and take care of her forever. She needed someone who would cherish her. And who the hell cared whether he had a title? If her mother wasn’t so blind, she’d see how loving and caring her daughter was. She’d want to see Amelia paired with someone who could appreciate that about her. Instead, the woman was blind to all but a title.

Fine. Thad would just have to think of something. He owed it to Paul. He owed it to Amelia. There had to be some way to find her a husband worthy of her.

* * *

Amelia turned over in bed for what felt like the thousandth time that night. She couldn’t sleep. The memory of Thad’s hands on her skin, his mouth on hers, his thigh pressing between her legs, his lips on her breast. She shuddered. It was all she could do, replay last night over and over in her mind. If that was what a wedding night could be, Lily Morgan didn’t know what the deuce she was talking about.

And they’d barely even gotten started. Amelia knew that. Thad might have kissed her,
touched her breasts, made her feel things she’d never imagined. But he hadn’t come close to actually making love to her. And she intended to rectify that as soon as possible.

She understood. Really she did. Young men like Thad were raised to be gentlemen, and making love to your closest friend’s virgin sister was not exactly the gentlemanly thing to do. But it was what she
wanted.
What she’d asked of him. Begged him, practically. She would just have to assure him. He needn’t feel guilty at all. He’d be doing her a much-needed courtesy. She would spend a few months, perhaps even a few years, married to an old man. Then she would be a dutiful widow for the rest of her life, never would she feel the kind of passion Thad had ignited in her last night. She had only this, these few days to experience this once-in-a-lifetime feeling, and she intended to make the most of it.

She rolled over. The sheets were damp with sweat. She’d tried to open the window in her room but it had been stuck and she hadn’t bothered to summon a footman. The June night was sweltering. And she was tortured by images of Thad towering above her, kissing her, pulling her hard against him.

She ran her hand down her flat belly and let it rest between the juncture of her thighs. Letting out a long sigh, she imagined Thad touching her. Her legs tensed. She moaned. Oh God. She wanted him. So badly. She wished he would throw the door open right now, stalk across the room to her bed, rip off her chemise, and make passionate love to her all night until she was moaning and writhing beneath him and calling his name. He’d shown her, just a bit, how good lovemaking could be, and now she wanted more. Much more.

She let her other hand play over her breast, imagining it was Thad’s hand. She squeezed her nipple, rubbed it between her fingertips. “Touch me, Thad,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, imagining his large rough hands, splaying down her belly, rubbing her, touching her. Slowly, steadily making their way down to the wet spot between her legs, the spot that ached for him. Her fingers moved down, down, to part the springy hair between her thighs, to rub between the hot moist crevice there. She moaned. One word. “Thad.”

Instinctively, she used her fingertip to touch herself, rub, push, drive herself wild all the while imagining that it was him, Thad, touching her, playing with her. Helpless to stop the pulsing demands from between her legs, she rubbed herself in tiny unerring circles, tensing her thighs, drawing them up, hovering on the edge, all the while Thad’s handsome face haunted her, tortured her beneath her eyelids.

“Yes, yes,” she called, just as she exploded into a thousand little pieces, wishing Thad was there to kiss her, touch her, hold her while she inexplicably wept.

Minutes later, Amelia lay back against the sheets, spent, exhausted. What was wrong with her? She’d never felt so discontent. If only she could believe what Thad had said. That there really were love matches and happily ever afters. That marriages based on attraction truly did exist. He seemed to think it was possible.

Was it? A small bit of hope tugged at her heart. She rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow. Was it possible? Could there be someone who was young, dashing, and handsome? A man who she could marry and love forever?

She turned her face to the side and let out a long breath. No, that was foolish. That was just a dream.

Amelia was sitting in the garden mentally comparing the relative merits of the Duke of Stanford and the Marquis of Bartholomew when she looked up to see Lily Morgan crunching down the gravel path toward her.

Oh drat. She’d made eye contact with the ravishing brunette. There was little help for it. But instinct took over and she stood to flee just as the Marchioness of Colton put up a hand to stop her.

“Please don’t go,” Lily called, and Amelia was forced to a halt. She couldn’t be that rude, even to Lily Morgan. She’d just have to hope this little encounter was over quickly.

She turned to face her. “My lady,” she said, about to curtsy.

Lily waved her hand in the air. “No need for all of that.”

Amelia bit her lip and made to turn back around. “Well, good to see you, I must be getting back to—”

Lily plunked both hands on her hips. “You don’t think for one moment it’s good to see me and we both know it.”

Amelia stopped, blinked. Well, that was unexpected. “Lady Colton?”

Lily gestured to the bench Amelia had just vacated. “Please, Miss Templeton, sit. I’ve been looking for you.”

Reluctantly, Amelia sat. She didn’t want to get into a conversation with her archenemy but she saw no way around sitting for a moment. Perhaps she should affect a fit of the vapors. But that would only give Lady Colton more reason to poke fun at her. And she already had reason enough.

“L-looking for me?” Amelia asked. What could Lily Morgan possibly want with her? Hadn’t she already done her damage?

“Yes, and I’m exceedingly pleased with myself to have found you. So, tell me,” Lily said when they’d both taken a seat. “What do you
really
think of me?”

Amelia blinked again. She’d never known any lady quite as blunt as Lady Colton, but then again, what did one expect from the authoress of a scandalous pamphlet?

“What do you mean?” Amelia demurred, plucking at the folds in her peach-colored skirts.

“Out with it,” Lily said. “No doubt it would make you feel much better to tell me to my face just how you feel. I get the distinct impression you’re not one to be honest with your emotions.”

Amelia shook her head. “Oh, no, truly, I couldn’t…” Tempting as it may be, Amelia couldn’t tell Lily what she
really
thought of her. Could she? She bit her lip.

Lily crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Amelia as if reading her mind. “I’m perfectly serious. Come now. I think it will make you feel ever so much better if you tell me
exactly what you think of me.”

Amelia took a breath, fully prepared to say something demure and nonspecific before taking her leave.

“You’re mean.” Amelia pressed two fingers to her mouth and felt her eyes widen. Why in the world had she said such a thing? To a marchioness, no less.

“Feel better?” Lily gave her a wide smile and nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re not the first person to call me that.”

Amelia thought her eyes might pop from their sockets. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Lily answered. “And you’re perfectly right, of course. I was insufferably rude to you and for that I owe you an apology. I am very sorry, Amelia. Will you please accept my apology?”

Amelia searched the marchioness’s face. She looked so lovely, lovely and friendly and…sincere. Why, Lily Morgan
did
feel badly over the way she’d treated her. Amelia had never imagined such a thing was possible but it appeared to be entirely true.

Amelia swallowed. “I suppose I…”

“I mean it. I was hideous to you and I’m deeply sorry. You didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t about you. It was about me…and Devon.” She glanced back toward the house. “I love him desperately, you know. And I couldn’t live without him. But that was not your fault and I should never have treated you so badly. I am ashamed of myself.”

Lily glanced down at her hands and blew out a breath between pursed lips, and Amelia
realized how difficult it had been for the proud marchioness to make such a declaration.

“I’m sorry I called you a bird,” Lily added.

Amelia couldn’t stop her small smile. “Thank you for the apology.”

“And I’m sorry I said you should go see about your hair. Your hair is quite lovely really. I was a bit jealous that night.”

Amelia shook her head. It was impossible to remain angry with Lily when she was being so open and honest and almost silly. “It’s all right,” Amelia said. “You did me a favor, actually. I wasn’t in love with Lord Colton. Though he seems like a very nice man,” she hastened to add.

Lily smiled at that. Then she reached out and squeezed Amelia’s hand. “Thank you for so graciously accepting my apology. But I wanted to speak with you for another reason, Amelia.”

Amelia furrowed her brow. “Wh-what’s that?”

“I’ve seen you, speaking to Lord Highland and Lord Bartholomew and…the Duke of Stanford.”

Amelia felt her cheeks heat. Was it that obvious whom she’d set her sights upon? Was the entire house party discussing it?

She went back to plucking the folds of her skirts. “Yes, well, I—”

“I don’t recommend an old husband,” Lily said softly.

Amelia snapped up her head. Of all the things Lily Morgan could have said to her, this was not what she expected. “Why ever not?”

“You know I was married to Lord Merrill five years ago?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes.”

“It nearly ruined my life.”

Amelia shook her head. “I don’t understand. How so? You had your freedom.”

“I had nothing. After my husband died, the new earl refused to abide by the betrothal agreement and if it weren’t for a certain scandalous publisher allowing me to, ahem, write for him—and that stays between us, of course—I would have been out on the streets.”

Amelia bit her lip. “I had no idea.”

Lily nodded. “Few people did. I was good at keeping up appearances.”

“I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry to know you had such a difficult time. I cannot blame you for wanting Lord Colton back. And I’m…happy for the two of you, truly. But even you must know that sort of match rarely happens.”

Lily winked at her. “It might happen more often than you think if you give it half a chance,” she said. “Something I’ve been trying to tell my younger sister, Annie, for years.” She shook her head. “She exasperates me.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said, feeling a new sort of kinship with the marchioness. “Thank you for apologizing and thank you for telling me the truth.”

Lily squeezed her hand again. “You’re welcome. But there’s one more thing I really wanted to apologize for.”

Amelia cocked her head to the side. Would wonders never cease? “What else?”

“For the pamphlet,” Lily replied. “For scaring you, and well, lying to you.”

Amelia turned her head slightly. “Lying to me?”

“The truth is that a wedding night—er, any night really—can be quite marvelous when shared with the right man.” Another wink.

Amelia’s cheeks were on fire. She was sure of it. She stared intently at her slippers when she answered. “Thank you for telling me that, Lady Colton. I know you didn’t have to.”

The marchioness patted Amelia’s knee. “I owe you more than that, actually. And you must call me Lily.”

“I appreciate your help, Lily,” Amelia replied with a shy smile.

Lily stood to leave and shook out her skirts. “Good day, Miss Templeton. I’m ever so glad we had this chance to talk.”

She hadn’t taken two steps back toward the house when Amelia stopped her. “Lily?”

Lily turned, a bright smile on her face. “Yes?”

Amelia took a deep breath, screwing up her courage. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything, dear.”

“What makes a man declare his interest in you? I mean, I assume you have experience in that area given your recent marriage to Lord Colton.” She glanced away, a bit embarrassed to have brought that up.

Lily tiptoed back over and leaned down with a positively impish look on her face. She glanced back over both shoulders as if to ensure she wouldn’t be overheard, then she whispered. “I’ll give you
two
bits of advice.”

Amelia nodded, listening intently.

“First of all, if you fancy someone, let him know.”

Amelia furrowed her brow. Oh, she couldn’t tell Thad she fancied him. She just couldn’t. Could she?

“And second,” Lily continued. “It’s very simple. The easiest way to entice a man to declare his interest is to make him madly, passionately jealous.”