Chapter 5
As nervous as a schoolgirl in the throws of her first tendre, Amelia smoothed the skirts of her pelisse. With her trembling hand poised over the knocker of the front door, she froze. What was she doing? Reed clearly didn’t want her back, despite the kiss they shared in the library.
And what had that been about? There had been such longing in that kiss, such tenderness, such passion. Could it be possible he was still in love with her, but unwilling to allow her to see it? And yet, when he pushed her away, he’d looked at her as if she’d just insulted his honor.
More likely the kiss was merely a product of their close quarters and their shared loneliness, an act he instantly regretted because he despised her. Maybe he thought her unfit for him because she was divorced.
Perhaps he’d become a complete rake and kissed every woman within reach.
No, that didn’t seem at all like the man she’d known. Yet time changed people—would he have changed that much?
So here she stood on the doorstep, blithely prepared to throw herself under his feet to see if he would pick her up or trample her. There must be something wrong with her, truly, if she were willing to subject herself to further suffering, notwithstanding her aunt’s manufactured errand.
Gathering her courage, she knocked. After being admitted, Amelia waited, twisting her hands, in the front parlor while the butler went to inquire whether Dr. St. Ives was receiving visitors.
She didn’t have to wait long. Immaculate in expertly tailored attire, Reed appeared. She tried not to notice how beautifully his bottle-green frockcoat fit his shoulders and set off his eyes, or how his cravat managed to look both Corinthian and careless. Most of all, she tried not to admire his intensely handsome face.
She swallowed against a suddenly very dry mouth, an effect he seemed to always have on her.
He raised his brows but his face remained completely expressionless. “Good morning, madam.”
Eyeing him uncertainly, she managed, “Why such formality, Reed?”
“I thought it only fitting, all things considered,” he said coolly.
A hole opened up inside her heart. She moistened her lips. “Because of what passed between us, or because you don’t wish to claim any intimate acquaintance with a divorced woman?”
“Do you think I really care about your status in society?” His tone dripped scorn.
“No. You never cared as much as I.” She fingered the strings of her reticule and called herself twelve kinds of idiot for coming. She really ought to learn to say no to Aunt Millie.
He said nothing for a long moment. Then, softly, “You had more to lose.”
She looked up at the gentleness in his voice. Again, a tangible current passed between them. He abruptly turned away. Amelia swayed, unsteady by the severance of eye contact.
“Forgive me.” He turned back to face her, all business now. “I failed to offer you a seat. Or refreshment.”
“Nothing, thank you.” Grateful to get off her wobbly legs, she sank into the nearest divan. She moistened her lips. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come. I heard you were staying here with your brother, and I needed to ask your advice. Professionally.”
“Professionally?” He sat in an armchair, the table between them an effective barrier and fixed an immovable stare upon her.
“On behalf of my Aunt Millie. You see, she’s having trouble sleeping. Her current physician’s remedies have become less effective than they once were.”
He leaned back and carefully placed his fingers together as if matching them up. “Does she know you’re here?”
“Of course. She asked me to come in her stead.”
“Really? She’s suddenly decided I’m worth her notice? Or has she taken pity upon an impoverished surgeon and has extended her charity to help build up my practice?”
“She thought you might know of new remedies of which her old doctor is not yet aware. She said you gave something to Lady Evensley—”
“Sleep remedies are something any physician can prescribe,” he interrupted. “Moreover, I don’t plan to remain in London long. I’m establishing myself in the country, so you see, I don’t plan to build up any sort of clientele here.”
He was leaving? The thought brought on a nervous flutter akin to panic. She stammered, “A-are you? Where will you go?”
“My cousin Freddy offered me his cottage in Hampshire—you know the place.” He smiled faintly. “It’s actually quite grand for a cottage; six bedrooms if you can believe it. It’s mine, deed and all. Apparently there isn’t a doctor or surgeon within miles. Or so he says.”
She pushed through her own sorrow and tried to think of him. “Oh, Reed, I’m so glad for you. It’s what you’ve always wanted—a practice in the country.”
A wistful smile touched his mouth. “Almost everything.”
She studied him, afraid to hope he might be softening toward her. His gaze moved slowly over her face as if memorizing it. Now would be a good time to say something witty or clever, but nothing came to mind.
For the briefest moments pain touched his eyes. “He actually offered it to me years ago, before I left for the war.”
Back when they’d been together. Had he secured it for her? “Reed...”
He cleared his throat. “But until I leave, tell your aunt to pay me a call and I’ll be happy to give her some direction. I’ll need to speak with her in person, though, so I can determine what she’s already tried and if she’s had any bad reactions to anything. That is, if she can bear to see me.” He stood in a clear dismissal.
“She never had any objection to you, Reed. She liked you, in fact. Even my uncle approved of your character. He simply disapproved of your family.”
“How comforting,” he said dryly.
Wishing she could think of something to say to prolong her call—ridiculous, since he clearly did not share her sentiment—she nodded, arose, and extended her hand. “Thank you.”
He clasped her hand briefly but released it as if he found the contact distasteful.
She cleared her throat. “Good day.” Her footsteps echoed on the wood parquet floor as she strode to the exit. At the doorway, she turned.
His focused stare remained fixed on her. Again she cursed herself for trying too hard to please her uncle. Aunt Millie had told her if she chose against her heart, Amelia would be sorry. Aunt Millie was right. If only she’d followed her counsel!
Amelia’s voice cracked. “If it means anything to you, I never stopped loving you.”
His body stiffened. “Good day, Mrs. Dasherwood.”
His abrupt dismissal hit her with the force of a slap. She’d been stupid to think he might still care for her. She was even more stupid to continue to love a man who didn’t return her feelings. Amelia left, as wounded as if she’d been well and truly trampled. Bleak loneliness opened its gaping maw and threatened to swallow her whole.