to have married him.’
She knew that now. The thing was, she’d thought Fowler loved her. She’d been convinced of it. She’d seen nothing in him to suggest he was not head over ears in love with her.
‘He threatened me,’ she went on. ‘He said that if I told anyone that he broke the betrothal, he would spread the news about what a wanton hoyden I was.’
Edmund’s countenance darkened. ‘The blackguard!’
His outrage surprised her. And warmed her.
But he still did not comprehend. She’d been fooled. So easily fooled. That was the most distressing part. One moment she’d believed Fowler blissfully in love with her; the next he had abandoned her on the dangerous streets of Brussels.
Amelie leaned her head against the cool pane of the window. ‘What is the use to talk about this? It does not change anything.’
‘What would you change?’ he asked. ‘Surely you do not want him now.’
‘No.’ The sadness crept in to her voice. ‘I do not want him.’
Again he did not understand. The moment she realised she had been utterly misled by Fowler, she also realised she could never trust any man. How could she know if a man truly loved her? She could never marry without knowing.
‘But—you see—’ she tried to explain. ‘It is unlikely now I shall ever marry.’
He rose and walked over to lean against the wall next to the window. ‘You are spouting nonsense.’
She lifted her chin. It was not nonsense. ‘I must face the reality of my situation. I am too scandalous—my family is too scandalous. Who would wish to marry me? Except, perhaps, for my dowry. If I can be fooled so easily, how would I ever know if what a man wanted was me or simply my dowry?’
‘Ah, I see.’ Edmund nodded. ‘Fowler wanted your money.’
‘I do not want a man who only wants my money!’
‘Of course you do not,’ he said soothingly.
She swung away from him. ‘Oh, stop it!’
‘Stop what?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Stop speaking platitudes.’ She huffed. ‘I knew talking to you would do nothing for me!’
He seemed to ignore her outburst. ‘Did you not have several suitors before Fowler?’
‘I did not!’ Only Fowler.
He’d been the perfect suitor, she’d thought. The man she’d dreamed of finding, she’d thought. So respectable. The younger son of an earl. In a fashionable cavalry regiment. She’d fancied herself so in love with him, when his regiment was sent to Brussels, she convinced her parents to follow him here. He’d seemed happy she’d come. Their betrothal made her parents happy. Made her happy.
Edmund took a step closer. ‘Forget Fowler. Do not let what happened with him decide the rest of your life. You will find a man worthy of you.’
‘Worthy of me,’ she repeated sarcastically. ‘I shudder at the thought. What sort of man is worthy of a hoydenish ninnyhammer with a family who is accepted nowhere?’
He touched her chin again and made her look into his eyes. ‘I see only a beautiful woman with pretty manners, who, I suspect, thinks more deeply than anyone gives her credit for.’
He was so close to her now she could see the individual hairs on the stubble of his beard. She felt her face flush, but she was unsure if it was because he was so close or because of his words. ‘Now who is talking nonsense?’
He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Be truthful, Amelie. You know you are beautiful, do you not?’
She used to think so. At least her family said so. Her maid said so. And men on the street sometimes looked at her, but Fowler had also said she was beautiful. Was that another lie? ‘How do I know if being told I was beautiful was simply empty flattery?’
He leaned close again. ‘I have no reason to flatter you, and I say you are beautiful.’
This time it felt as if all her skin had blushed.
She dared to meet his eye. ‘Do you truly think so?’
He came even closer, so close his lips were an inch from hers. She felt his breath on her face and the heat of his body.
‘I truly think so,’ he murmured.
Edmund stepped back.
Heavens! What was he about? He’d nearly kissed her, and now she looked bewildered.
‘Forgive me,’ he said.
‘For what?’ she whispered.
‘For coming too close.’
Her brow creased in confusion. ‘I thought you were going to kiss me.’
He could not meet her eye. ‘That would be pretty shabby of me.’
She turned back towards the window. ‘I suppose it is something you would not want to do.’
Should not do, was more the piece.
‘That was one thing Fowler must have been honest about,’ she spoke more to the windowpane than to Edmund. ‘He never kissed me. Except on the cheek like my brother might do.’
Edmund had not felt like kissing her like a brother.
‘He obviously did not want to.’ She released a long sigh. ‘No man has wanted to kiss me.’
‘It is more likely that they wanted to, but refrained,’ he said.
She whirled around. ‘And you? Did you want to, but refrained?’
‘I am really not a rake, Amelie.’ Although he’d nearly behaved like one.
She turned away again. ‘I wish you were.’
He was uncertain he heard her correctly.
She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Are you shocked at that? I did proposition a man tonight, after all.’
He’d tried to treat her like his little half-sister Genna instead of the alluring creature she was at this moment. He’d promised her she was safe with him.
She laughed drily. ‘I would certainly hate to think that the only men who wished to kiss me were those ruffians in the street who tried to have their way with me.’
‘They would have done more than kiss you, Amelie,’ he said. ‘If you yearn for love, they were not offering it.’
She
