Persuasion

Her panic intensified. “Good afternoon, my lord. I am so sorry for your loss.” She tried to smile politely and failed. “What a terrible tragedy! Lady Grenville was a kind and gracious woman. She was far too young to pass this way, leaving behind such beautiful children!” Was she speaking in a nervous rush? It seemed that way. “I hope to help, in any way that I can!” she added desperately.

His dark gaze never shifted from her face. “Hello, Amelia.”

She froze. She had not expected such an informal—and intimate—form of address. It was highly inappropriate for him to call her Amelia. But he had called her by her given name all summer long....

“I hadn’t expected to see you here.” His tone remained flat and calm.

She could not breathe properly. “I would never fail to attend Lady Grenville’s funeral.”

“Of course not.” His gaze slipped to her mouth. Amelia realized what he was doing and she was shocked. Then he looked directly at her hands.

She had yet to don her gloves. Instinctively, she hugged her coat to her chest, hiding her hands. Had he been remarking her lack of rings? Surely he hadn’t been searching for a wedding band. But why else would he look at her hands? “I had better go. Lucas must be waiting.” And without considering the fact that he was a rather large man, and it would not be easy to pass by him, she impulsively started down the stairs. She had to escape him.

But Grenville grasped the railing, blocking her way. Amelia crashed into the barrier provided by his strong arm.

Incapable of breathing normally, Amelia looked from his velvet-clad arm, locked against her waist, to his hand, which firmly gripped the banister. He was barring her way. Then she slowly looked up into his eyes.

“What were you doing upstairs in my house?” he asked without emotion. But his gaze was unwavering upon her face.

She wanted him to remove his arm—for now, she was actually trapped. She stared into his dark eyes. “I put your daughter to sleep. She is very beautiful,” she said tersely, wishing she dared to look away.

His mouth finally seemed to soften. His gaze lowered. Thick, black lashes fanned against his high cheekbones. Amelia could feel him thinking, carefully, deliberately. But he did not move and he did not release the railing. He finally said, “You still babble when you are nervous.”

Her heart kept thundering. What kind of comment was that? She finally managed, “You are blocking my way.”

He looked up, still using his arm as a barrier to prevent her from going downstairs. “I beg your pardon.” Finally, almost reluctantly, he released the banister. But he did not move aside. His body took up most of the space of the stairwell.

Amelia didn’t move. She wanted to go, she truly did, but she felt so paralyzed. “I hope I am not intruding. Mrs. Murdock seemed to need my help.”

“I am making you nervous.”

She trembled. What could she say when he was right? “It has been a very trying day—for everyone!”

“Yes, it has been a very trying day for us all.” His regard flickered, but it still remained unwavering upon her. “I see that you remain as kind and compassionate as ever.”

That was another odd statement to make, she thought nervously. It was as if he remembered her very well. “Mrs. Murdock was so very attached to Lady Grenville. She is distraught. And the boys were distraught. They are playing in their rooms now.”

“Then I am grateful.” His gaze narrowed. “Mrs. Murdock?”

“The nurse,” she cried, realizing he hadn’t had a clue as to whom she was discussing.

“Ah, yes, Elizabeth’s hire...”

His tone seemed wry and she could not get a sense as to what he was thinking or feeling now. He had even looked away. His words seemed to hang upon the air. Did he want to talk about his wife? He probably needed to talk about her. She wanted to flee, but how could she? He had been so very upset in the church.

He suddenly said, “She is afraid of me.”

Amelia inhaled, realizing that he was referring to the nurse. “Yes, I think she is.”

He glanced directly at her and their gazes met.

“That will change,” Amelia managed, “I am sure of it.”

“Yes, you would be certain.”

Was he amused by her optimism? “Now that you will be in residence, she will become accustomed to you,” Amelia said quickly. When his eyes widened, she flushed. “I met Lady Grenville. And I meant it when I said I am so sorry. She was so gracious and so beautiful!”

His stare had sharpened. His mouth seemed hard. “Yes, I suppose she was very beautiful.”

And Amelia realized he had spoken reluctantly, as if he had no wish to praise or discuss his deceased wife. Had Mrs. Murdock been right? Surely he was grieving for Elizabeth! “She invited me for tea. It was a lovely afternoon.”

“I am sure it was.”

And Amelia realized that she knew him well enough to know that he did not mean his words. Feeling helpless and very confused, she stared back. They had had an unhappy marriage, she somehow thought.

“I am truly sorry,” she whispered, at a loss. “If there is anything I can do to help you now, in such a difficult time, you must ask.” She felt her heart lurch. His stare had become unnerving.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

She could not comprehend him. His wife was dead. It was Elizabeth they must discuss.

“You rescued the babe, and perhaps even the nurse. Now you wish to comfort me in my time of grief.” His eyes flickered oddly. “In spite of the past.”

Her heart slammed. They must never discuss the past! How could he even raise it? “We are neighbors,” she cried, flustered. And surely he had noticed that she was ten years older now. “I must go! Garrett, my driver, is surely waiting. I must prepare supper!” Knowing she sounded as frantic as she felt, she started forward but he grasped the banister and blocked her way again.

“I am not trying to frighten you, Amelia.”

The pressure of his arm against her ribs was unnerving. “What are you doing? You cannot call me Amelia!”

“I am curious.... It has been a long time, yet here you are. You could have decided not to attend my wife’s service.”

She did not know what to do—she wanted to flee! He was obviously determined to remind her of the past—and it was so dishonorable to do so. She was acutely aware of him. “Of course I would attend Lady Grenville’s service. I really must go, Grenville.”

He released the banister, watching her carefully.

Feeling almost like a mouse in a lion’s den, she hesitated. Then she blurted, “And you should visit the boys—they wish to see you—and your daughter.”

His closed expression never changed. “Will you meddle in my personal affairs?”

Had she been meddling? “Of course not.”

His stare was oddly watchful. “I do not think I mind very much if you do.”

His tone was wry, but was it also suggestive? She froze, debating telling him that she was merely being a good neighbor.

He added, so softly she had to strain to hear, “You aren’t wearing a ring.”

She had been right. He had looked at her hands earlier for a sign of whether she was married or not. But why would he do such a thing?