That was when Nicholas took note. The day was warm and breeze, a perfect summer day really. The breeze had pushed Nash’s hair off his face, and his damaged eye was visible. Nicholas had heard the scar was quite horrific, but seeing it now, he thought the gossip overblown. It was just a scar, and Nash didn’t seem quite so self-conscious of it. But what really took Nicholas by surprise was that Jasper had removed his mask. Nicholas remembered when Jasper had been burned in that fire, trying to save his fellow soldiers. Jasper had almost died in that fire and one of their fellow soldiers, Peter, had died. Nicholas could still remember Ewan carrying Jasper out of the burning structure, still remember the awful smell of burnt flesh and the raw skin of Jasper’s face.
Nicholas hadn’t seen the wound since that day. When he’d seen Jasper afterward, the man always wore his mask. But apparently now he felt confident enough to remove it. And Nash felt confident enough to let his hair fly off his face.
And there was Amelia speaking with both men, looking directly at them and not at all seeming repulsed or even discomfited. Lady Daphne joined them, wearing another of her dresses that looked more like a sugar confection, and Nash—Nash!—said something that made the women laugh. It shocked him that Lady Daphne, who was perhaps the most typical example of the ladies of the ton Nicholas always avoided, seemed to accept Jasper and Nash without hesitation.
But then she hadn’t married either one of them. She’d married the darkly handsome Colin FitzRoy. But the whole afternoon made Nicholas think that perhaps he had built his injury up to be more than it was. Perhaps no one would find it as hideous as he’d feared.
And he continued to believe that until he changed for dinner. He deliberately moved to where he could see his reflection in a mirror. Reflected back at him were two legs, one thinner than the other and obviously misshapen. The knee protruded at an odd angle, and scar tissue from the surgeries he’d endured crisscrossed the skin.
Nicholas turned away. He couldn’t bear to look, and he would never believe anyone else could stand to not look away either.
Eighteen
“Caramba, but this is difficult!”
Amelia stood in the foyer and looked up from the menu she’d been perusing to see Ines Murray and her sister, Catarina Draven, puzzling over the paper with the scavenger hunt clues. They’d just come in from the garden, arriving quite late as all of the other guests had already found the inside clues and were outside looking for the rest.
“Can I help?” Amelia asked.
“Por favor,” Ines said. “This clue I do not understand at all.” Ines and her sister spoke Portuguese as their first language.
“I think we are not as good with English as the others,” Catarina added. “And since we are playing against the men, our husbands will not help.”
“Let me see it.” Amelia held out her hand. She wasn’t helping them cheat. Florentia had written the clues, and Amelia didn’t know most of them, though she had helped to hide a few outside.
Ines passed over the sheet of paper and pointed to the third clue. Oh dear, they really did need help if they were only on the third clue.
Amelia read, “These objects can be sharp. They aren’t for beginners. If you need to snip a thread, just look for some—” Amelia glanced at the women, brows raised expectantly. They were lacemakers. Surely, they would have guessed scissors.
“What is snip?” Catarina asked. “I don’t know this word.”
“It means to cut.”
The women looked at each other, their faces lighting up. “Into the parlor,” Ines said. “I saw a sewing basket there.”
Amelia watched them go and smiled. She was about to look back at the menu when she felt a prickle along her back. She turned slowly and spotted Nicholas leaning against the stairs, watching her. He must have been in the library, a room she tended to avoid now as every time she even thought of it, her cheeks heated.
“My lord,” she said, feeling a bit flustered that he’d just been in the library.
“My lady.” His tone seemed mocking. He moved forward, and she realized she was crumpling the menu with her tight grip. “I haven’t seen you in days. I almost began to believe you were ignoring me.”
“You saw me last night,” she said, and then glanced about, worried someone might have heard. His brows rose, and she knew he was remembering how he’d come to her room, dismissed O’Malley, and bent Amelia over the bed.
Amelia had liked how in command he’d been and was reassured by how much he’d obviously missed their lovemaking and wanted her. And though he’d given her pleasure, he hadn’t given her what she really wanted.
He hadn’t shared any part of himself. She was aware that even as he shared his body with her, he didn’t trust her to share all of it.
“I remember.” He gave her a look that made her breath catch in her throat. “Might we speak a moment?” He held out his hand, and she took it, her breath growing a little short when she saw his destination was the library. They stepped inside, and her gaze went to the desk. Was she a complete wanton for hoping he would toss up her skirts and bend her over it? It was a bit hard not to think about bedsport when she was constantly surrounded by couples so obviously in love.
Yesterday she’d interrupted a rather passionate kiss in the corridor between Neil Wraxall and Lady Juliana. At the start of the scavenger hunt, she’d spotted the duke and duchess sneaking toward one of Aidan Sterling’s carriages. It wasn’t hard to guess why.
But Nicholas closed the door of the library and backed Amelia against it. His body pressed against hers, and she looked up at him, her heart thudding hard in her chest.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, his hand trailing down a stray curl and then continuing downward to brush over her breast. She shivered.
“I’m right here.” She reached up and kissed him, and he flattened his hands on the door on either side of her and kissed her back as though he hadn’t seen her for weeks. Amelia couldn’t stop a small moan from escaping her lips.
“You like that,” Nicholas murmured, moving his lips to her jaw and then her neck. “Why are you avoiding me if you like how I make you feel?”
Amelia stiffened.
Nicholas pulled back. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”
“It’s not that. It’s just...I thought...”
He looked down at her, his usually sunny blue eyes dark with a storm coming. “Have I done something?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not.”
“You haven’t come to my bed chamber in three days.”
“Last night you came to mine.”
“I half wondered if you would turn me away,” he said. Amelia tried not to show her surprise at the admission. She wasn’t used to him being vulnerable.
“I’d never turn you away.”
“But you don’t want to come to me anymore either.”
“I do. I just...” She swallowed. “I thought maybe a bit of distance would give you time to think.”
“About?”
“Your feelings.”
He frowned, looking confused. “What feelings?”