feel safe again. Napoleon could be knocking at the door by morning. Men in the street seemed to feel entitled to do as they pleased, and even men who had once professed love could speak words that wounded more grievously than a sword.
‘Will—will you escort me to my room?’ she asked.
He put an arm around her, but, again, it was meant only in sympathy. ‘Directly to your room, and I will see you safe inside.’
Under ordinary circumstances it would be scandalous for Edmund to walk a young, unmarried woman up hotel stairs in the wee hours of the morning, but this night no one would pay them any heed. Even if someone noticed them, it would not change what he must do. He must escort her all the way to her room. She’d had two brushes with danger and that was quite enough. He would see her to safety or be damned.
‘Do you object to me calling you Edmund?’ she asked as they climbed the stairs. ‘It is how Tess refers to you, so I think of you as Edmund.’
To hear her speak his name felt intimate to him. They’d spent mere minutes together, not more than an hour, certainly, but, somehow, it seemed right that she call him by his Christian name.
Besides, all this hour he’d been thinking of her as Amelie.
He smiled again. ‘I do not object, but that means I must call you Amelie, you know.’
‘Would that be so hard to do?’ she countered, somewhat uncertainly, he thought.
He pretended to need to think about it. ‘I suppose I could manage it. We are somewhat related, one could say. By marriage.’
They reached the upper floor where her hotel room was located.
‘Since we are now so familiar, Amelie,’ he emphasised Amelie, ‘there is no reason not to tell me why you and Captain Fowler quarrelled.’
‘Would you stop pressing me on the subject?’ she snapped. ‘I have no intention of telling you. It is very private.’
‘But we are somewhat related.’ He added, ‘Amelie.’
She lifted a finger to her lips, and he fell silent. They were near her parents’ rooms, where he’d breakfasted with her two days before.
She knocked softly. ‘Maman, Papa, I am back.’
Footsteps could be heard from behind the door. She gestured for him to stay out of sight.
Her mother opened the door a crack. ‘Dieu merci! I was worried.’
‘No need to have worried, Maman,’ she said.
Of course, she’d only been abandoned once and nearly abducted twice!
‘We are leaving Brussels,’ her mother said. ‘Your father has arranged for carriages to take us to Antwerp very early. Your maid will wake you at five.’
‘I will be ready.’ The door opened wider, and she leaned in for her mother to kiss her on the cheek. She kissed her back. ‘Try to sleep, Maman.’
She waited a moment after the door closed, then indicated to Edmund to follow her again.
When they reached her hotel-room door, he extended his hand for her to give him the key. He unlocked the door, opened it and stepped aside for her to enter.
She hesitated, though. ‘Will you check the room for me?’ she asked in a nervous voice. ‘I am a little afraid to enter it alone.’
He crossed the doorjamb. A fire was lit in the fireplace, but the room was dark and full of shadows. He found a taper on the mantel and used it to light the lamps. The room brightened a bit.
He carried one of the lamps with him throughout the room, not believing there was anyone hidden and ready to jump out and attack her, but wanting to reassure her of that fact.
‘There is nothing to fear here,’ he told her. He placed the lamp on a table and placed the key into her hand. ‘Lock the door after I leave.’
She took the key and stared at it for a moment before looking back up at him. ‘Must you go to your regiment immediately?’
It would be a two-hour ride, at least. ‘I have time,’ he said.
Her shoulders relaxed in relief. ‘May I offer refreshment?’
‘Do not go to any trouble.’
‘It is no trouble.’ She pulled off her gloves, and he noticed her hands shook. ‘I think Sally hides a bottle of sherry in here. Shall I pour you some?’
He’d prefer brandy. ‘Sherry? Why not?’
She found the bottle and two glasses. ‘Please sit, Edmund.’ She poured his glass and one for herself, a large one, which she gulped down.
He waited for her to sit first. She lowered herself into a chair and poured herself another glass.
She was still distressed from the night’s events, he thought, and Edmund wondered how he’d be able to leave her until she was comfortable again. Why he should feel this responsibility foxed him. She was once merely a pretty face—a beautiful face—to him. Now, perhaps because he’d rescued her, she’d become someone whose welfare mattered to him.
He watched her gulp down the second glass of sherry. ‘You should talk about what happened to you tonight.’ He spoke in a low voice. ‘The sherry won’t be enough.’
She quickly put down the glass. ‘I suspect there is not enough time. You must leave for your regiment.’
His brows rose. ‘A moment ago you were anxious for me to stay; now you want me to leave? Which is it, Amelie?’
Her glance darted to the door before focusing on her lap. ‘I do not want to be alone right now.’
‘Then talk to me,’ he persisted.
She looked up at him and snapped, ‘Why are you so sure talking will help me?’
‘I have three sisters.’
The challenge left her eyes, so that must have been explanation enough.
‘The—the attacks from those horrid men.’ The distaste showed on her face. ‘It was frightening, but what more can I say except that?’
‘Then talk about what is most unsettling you,’ he said.
‘I am certain you do not have enough time for that!’ She huffed.
He raised his brows and spoke with humour. ‘Is it so long of a story?’
Her glance darted back to him. She smiled.
He pinched the stem of his glass.
By Jove, she was temptation itself when she smiled.
*
