Chapter 26 Amelia #2
Love at first sight wasn’t enough to base a marriage on, like it might have been in Austen’s time, but it could be a first step to the start of something bigger. Definitely a feeling to enjoy while it lasted, and to draw out as long as possible.
All hypothetical, of course. She hadn’t allowed herself to think long term in the last year.
Now, finally, she wanted to start a new chapter, maybe be open to finding someone again—but she wanted it to be someone smart and honorable, who turned her on like she was drinking salamander brandy, and who gave out Tom-sized hugs. Was that too much to ask?
Tom kissed her hair. “I’m glad one good thing came out of it, at least.”
“Oh yes, the diamond! Holy shitballs, that was crazy. You’re set up for life!”
“Well, yes, the diamond was a definite bonus.” He took it out of his coat pocket, tossed it up and caught it, like she’d seen him do a dozen times.
“All this time, I’ve been using a forty-million-pound diamond to weigh down bills I couldn’t afford to pay.
I guess I should put it in the bank or wherever it is you put a stupidly valuable diamond.
” He dropped it back in his pocket. “But that’s not the good thing I was referring to.
” He adjusted position to face her, making the seat swing wildly, squealing.
He planted his good foot on the pale flagstone floor to steady it.
“You are the best thing to come out of this, for me—meeting you.”
Her eyes burned. His sincerity almost hurt.
What was that about? Because she couldn’t bring herself to hope that something could come of this?
She might be sick of the holding pattern, but did she have the courage to land?
When she started to trust in life again, she imagined it happening in increments, not all or nothing.
She didn’t want nothing, when it came to Tom, but all wasn’t exactly an option.
She absolutely didn’t want some halfway measure that would create more uncertainty in her life.
He touched the sensitive skin under her chin, and she felt breathless all over again. “And I’m not just saying that because you saved my life, on more than one occasion,” he said.
“I think we’re probably even on that count? We’d have to do a tally. A spreadsheet, even.”
He laughed. “I could kiss you.”
“You actually could?”
He leaned in for the slowest, most delicious kiss of her life. Like they had all the time in the world. Like there was no afternoon train to Bath.
“Do you think you’ll keep the estate?” she said, as they drew apart. “Or is it too soon to ask?”
He sat back, slinging an arm around her again.
“Look at her,” he said, gesturing to the horseshoe-shaped back of the house with its pale-stone terrace and garden.
The sun had come out, warming the stone to a shade closer to the honey of the tour flyer, and brightening the lawns to a vivid green.
“It’s not often I sit back like this and actually see the house.
Truly see it. What a shambles. Do you know, I don’t like to be there when the tourists arrive for the Pemberley tour because you can see the disappointment on their faces. Poor doomed Miss Havisham.”
Amelia rubbed her lips together. Good thing he hadn’t been there to see her reaction when she arrived.
“But all this history, all the people who have lived out their lives here. Upstairs, downstairs, as you say. Triumphs, disappointments, love stories, tragedies… Every scratch, every broken statue—broken chandelier!—tells a story. Like, you don’t love your grandmother any less because she has a few wrinkles, right? ”
“My grandmother doesn’t have wrinkles.”
“Huh?”
“Botox. Fillers. She’s like my mother, likes everything to be shiny and new.”
Amelia smoothed a hand down the stubble on Tom’s cheek, and he faced her. “You’re like this place, you know.”
“High maintenance and barely holding it together?”
“Good bone structure, a solid foundation, and a complete lack of artifice.”
“I can’t afford artifice, well, not until now. Though it would be nice to restore some to the house. Or I could walk away with the diamond and live on a yacht in the Med.”
“You already knew about the ‘sound mind’ clause, didn’t you? That the estate is technically yours, along with the earldom, or whatever you call it.” At his querying look, she added, “I could tell by your expression. There were a lot of surprises, but that wasn’t one.”
“I don’t use the title I’ve got. I don’t need another. And I don’t consider this place to belong to me.”
“But you very much belong to it.”
He grunted. “Maybe so. My grandfather wasn’t keen to execute the ‘sound mind’ clause after the accident, though I guess we now know why.
He would have had to get Eddie ruled mentally unfit, which might have made things more perilous for Connor, legally.
And maybe then the truth would have come out. ”
“Could be a drawcard for the tourists—you could charge them for selfies with the earl. You could charge them for dates!”
“Amelia! Are you saying I should pimp myself out?”
She laughed. It gave her a rush even to hear him say her name.
Hell, it gave her a rush to look at his face.
It gave her a rush every damn time he touched her.
“An aristocrat dating show could bring in some cash. You could find an American heiress! Not that you need one anymore.” She picked a chunk of plaster from his hair. “You could use a shower though.”
“I bet you regret declining my offer to make you my countess now!”
“Ha, I’d forgotten. Yesterday morning seems like months ago.”
“Craziest first date ever.”
She screwed up her face. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“You’ve had crazier first dates?”
“No. I just don’t remember being asked out.
For it to be a date, it should be premeditated.
” She felt stupidly nervous about fishing for a date, considering everything they’d been through.
Maybe because now she felt like she had something to lose if he didn’t reciprocate.
And something to win. Definitely something to win.
“Like murder.” He grinned for a second, then his face fell. “Oh God, that’s not the sort of joke I should be making. Okay then…” He gave a broad smile that showed his dimple in all its glory. “My dear Miss Bennett with two Ts… Hang on, was that too forward—the ‘my dear’?”
“Probably. But seeing as I already had my wicked way with you…”
“True. Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me on a date? In fact, let’s run away. Escape!”
She assessed him coolly. “Isn’t that what got us in this mess in the first place?”
“You wanted to go to Bath, didn’t you? Let’s go. Take the waters—especially since this place is now a crime scene.”
“We could promenade. Take turns about the assembly rooms, if you can even walk. Have tea. Eat ice cream. Drink wine—strictly grocery store. Kind sir, I would be enchanted to accept your proposal—the Bath one, not the countess one.”
“Capital!”
He cradled her face and kissed her again. As things started to get heated, there was a solid crack and a gut-churning split-second of weightlessness, and then they landed butt-first on the ground.
“Oh no,” she said, laughing. “We broke the love seat!” She rubbed her butt, groaning. She already had a sizable bruise there, possibly from falling down the stairs. Now that the crisis had passed, she was discovering a great deal of scrapes and bruises.
“I’m sure it’s not a metaphor. I swear that salamander goop hasn’t worn off yet.”
“Oh! Did the sergeant not tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“There are no aphrodisiac qualities in it whatsoever. That’s an urban legend.
She mentioned that to the toxicology lab, and they laughed at her.
They’ve done tests on earlier discoveries from the same batch and found it to be only hallucinogenic.
There were scientific papers published and everything. ”
“Whoa.”
“I know, right?”
“You mean what we felt… It was real?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, shit.”
“Yup.”
“Well, there’s the inspiration for the Lady Chatterley’s Lover tour. I’ll have to get a gamekeeper’s outfit. Though to be honest, it might be hard to feel hot in dungarees.”
“Happy to give you a second opinion. If they’re no good, I’ll tell you to take them off.”
“And if they are good?”
“I’ll tell you to take them off.”
He laughed, which filled her with dopamine more powerful than any drug. The heaviness had lifted from his eyes, leaving the playful look of earlier—though now she knew what was under the charming facade.
“Come on,” he said, standing and holding out his hand, which reminded her of the moment they met. “Let’s find a shower that still works. Create some memories we can actually remember, to send you home with.”
Home. The image that popped unbidden into her mind was of Tom, sitting on a rug with two children and a spaniel, while a woman looked out an arched window. A woman who looked very much like Amelia.
Tom waved his other hand in front of her eyes. “Amelia? Another hallucination?”
She shook her head and allowed him to pull her up. “No. Not that time. Just a surprise attack of … optimism.”