Persuasion. Brenda Joyce
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ask him what was wrong. She wet her lips and said, “Are you all right?”
“No.” He poured another scotch, his movements stiff with anger. Then he slowly turned and faced her. “Why are you here?”
She hesitated. “You haven’t come out of your rooms in days. You haven’t seen your children.”
“No, I have not.” He made a mocking sound. “And you are here to rescue me from myself?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, we are being honest now.” His gaze darkened.
“When did you become so dark—so cynical—so unhappy?” she asked.
He started. And she saw the wave of anger as it came. He drained that drink, too, and slammed it down. “Has it ever occurred to you that being here—alone with me—is dangerous?”
She trembled. “Yes, it has.”
“I do not feel like being rescued. You should go.”
“I don’t think I should leave you when you are in such a state.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest and began to smile. “I was wrong. You have changed. The child I once knew was so terribly pliant. She was putty in my hands. I am facing a stubborn and annoying woman now.”
His words stabbed through her. “You are hurt, so you are lashing out.”
He laughed coldly at her. “Think as you will.”
Amelia watched him pour another drink, wanting to take it away. “I know you are grieving. Your children are grieving, as well. But grief doesn’t give you the right to behave as if you are a spoiled child.”
His eyes widened. “You dare to berate me?”
“Someone must set you upside down on your ear!” she cried in frustration.
He set the glass down hard, and this time, the drink was untouched. “You were never entirely intimidated by me. Even when you were sixteen, and as naive and as innocent as a newborn babe, you had the courage I find lacking in most women and most men.”
She was rigid. “I do not intend to discuss the past.”
“But you did hold me in some awe. Are you still awed?” His tone was mocking, but his gaze was hard and unwavering.
“Grenville, you could awe no one just now.”
“This is truly intriguing. I look at you and I see glimpses of that trusting, sweet girl—but then I find myself facing a sharp-tongued harridan.”
She flushed. “Insult me if it makes you feel better! But I do not want to discuss the past.”
“Why not? It is there, looming between us, as if an elephant in this chamber.”
“What happened is over, and I have forgotten all about it.”
“Liar.” She started in dismay as he added softly, “You are the one who came here uninvited, into my rooms, seeking to rescue me.... A man who did not know you as well would draw but one conclusion.”
She knew her face flamed. He said, “Do you wish to pick up where we left off?”
She cried out, close to marching over to him and striking him. “You know me better than that! How can you be so rude when you know I have come here to help?”
“Yes, I do know you well.... You are meddling out of kindness. The other day it was rather endearing. Today, however, I cannot decide if I mind or not.”
“Someone has to meddle, Grenville—you are hardly a bachelor, free to indulge yourself. You have a family to think of. You have duties toward them.”
“Ah, yes, duty—a subject of which you are inordinately fond. Who better to lecture me? Do you still take care of your mother exclusively? Julianne was far too preoccupied with her books and lectures, if I recall, to be of any help.”
“She is my mother. Of course I take care of her. And Julianne is married now to the Earl of Bedford.”
He started. “Little Julianne married Dominic Paget?”
“Yes, she did. And they have a child.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Well, your mother is a noble cause, to be sure—but time passes swiftly, Amelia, and you remain unwed.”
She crossed her arms defensively. “I am very content.” She did not know how they had gotten onto such a personal topic. “Your children need you. And that is why I am here. That is the only reason I am here.”
His smile was filled with skepticism. “I think you are here for several reasons.” He sipped from his glass. “I think that you are a woman of compassion, and you currently harbor a great deal of compassion for me.”
He wasn’t as foxed as she had thought. “You are grieving. You have lost your wife. Of course I feel sympathy for you. You have not seen your children since the funeral. It is time to sober up, Grenville.”
His lashes lowered and she could feel him thinking. “Send up for supper. I will stop drinking if you join me.” And he smiled at her. “I am enjoying your company, Amelia.”
She was in disbelief. “First you flirt, then you fly into several rages, and now you are bribing me in order to have me dine with you?”
“Why not?”
Trembling, she finally marched to him. His brows lifted. She snatched the glass from his hand, spilling whiskey on them both. He seemed amused, which only angered her even further. Flushing, she cried tersely, “I will not be bribed. If you want to behave like a common drunk, then so be it. I know you are grieving for Elizabeth, but your grief does not entitle you to this bout of self-destruction, not when your children are in this house.”
“I am not grieving for Elizabeth,” he said flatly.
She knew she had misheard. “I beg your pardon?”
His face had become dark with anger again. “I hardly knew her. She was a stranger. I am sorry she is deceased, as my sons adored her. And she certainly did not deserve to die at the age of twenty-seven. But let us cease all pretense. I am not grieving for her.”
Was it true, then, what the nurse had said? That the marriage had been troubled?
He was staring. “You seem so surprised.”
She did not know what to say to him now. Finally, “Perhaps you are not being entirely honest with yourself. She was gracious, elegant, beautiful—”
He laughed harshly then, interrupting her. “I am being entirely honest, Amelia.”
She hesitated because he was so obviously anguished. She did not know what to believe or think. “This is a terrible time,” she finally said. “How can I help?”
He slowly smiled, and his dark eyes smoldered. Suddenly he brushed some hair from her face, and his fingertips fluttered over her jaw and cheek. Desire fisted and Amelia froze.
Very seductively, he said, “I need you, Amelia. I have always needed you.”
For one more moment, she could not move. The urge to go into his arms was overwhelming. Simon needed her. She believed that.
“And somehow,” he said, slowly reaching for her, “I think that you need me, too.” His hand closed over her wrist.
In another moment, if she did not defy him, he would pull her into his embrace! He was poised to do so—and he was watching her so carefully. Amelia braced against him but did not move away. There was no denying the wild attraction that she still felt for him.
But it didn’t matter. She must never allow him any liberties again! Still, the panic she had felt earlier was far less intense now.
“Isn’t that why you are here? To comfort me?” He leaned closer,