Chapter Three
“No one can be that good looking,” Amelia muttered to herself as she snuck a peek at the profile of the dark-haired Corinthian sitting at a table with his handsome friend.
Nerves had blinded her when she first entered the room, but now that she was a bit more comfortable, she could see more clearly.
Or so she thought until she was blinded by the beauty of that man.
By his clothing and his posture, his demeanor screamed that of being a duke, but she couldn’t recognize him from her vantage point. A few people were in the way and he was turned just so to hinder her view.
Even from sitting she could see his build.
Tall. Over six feet. Strong enough to cut down a few trees for firewood if she were ever stuck alone with him in a cabin.
Not that something like that would ever happen.
Hair dark as night with a jaw so sharp it could…
well…cut trees. Not that all this man ever did was cut trees down.
In fact, she couldn’t be sure he’d ever cut down a tree in his entire life.
Why would he? If he were a duke he would have never cut down a tree, split wood, made a fire for himself.
He would have always had someone else at his beck and call, seeing to his every whim.
No. There was no tree-cutting for this man.
But one look at his biceps straining against his jacket confirmed that he could if he wanted to. Forget his tree-cutting abilities.
There must be a flaw. No one was that handsome.
She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes.
Hadn’t even yet seen his full face. But just from the profile, she was keen on getting a second look.
She needed a full look. Just once to drink in the beauty and then be done with him.
She could never trust a man that good looking. But one good look wouldn’t hurt.
All while being discreet, of course. She wasn’t the kind to just walk up to a man and take her fill, though she knew women who were. Like her sister. But look where that got her.
The man was with a friend who had his arm slung around his shoulder, covering parts of his face. The good parts. Couldn’t he give the man some space?
She studied him as a visitor approached their table. The god-like man didn’t even look up. Clearly the visitor was seeking his attention. But the man didn’t reply. It took his friend speaking up to deter the visitor from persisting.
Still sticking to the perimeter of the room, Amelia wandered closer, grabbing a drink on the way. If only he would turn so she could find his flaw. There must be one. Maybe this was it. Maybe the man was rude. Standoffish.
Everyone had flaws. For him to be that good looking he must have a tragic flaw. Like arrogance.
Curiously, she watched for a few minutes as another visitor approached. It was like watching a reenactment. The exact same thing happened. The visitor approached. The apparent duke didn’t even acknowledge him. The friend rebuffed him. The visitor left.
And then, not even a few minutes later, a third visitor made his way over to the table, only to be dismissed by the man’s friend again.
Mmm…yes. Amelia nodded to herself. That must be it. The apparently arrogant duke’s flaw. He was—
“Looking for someone?” a male voice interrupted her hypotheticals.
She turned her attention to the man who had appeared at her elbow. “Oh, no thank you.”
“I can help you find what you’re looking for.” He had a gleam in his eye that Amelia was not used to. So far into spinsterhood was she that she no longer cared to interpret the male expression. The past had disappointed her too many times.
Every season was the same. Just a different name.
Harold.
Frederick.
Frank.
Alexander.
Gregory.
Jonathan.
The list was embarrassingly long. Those were just the first six names that had popped into her head.
Each season she had found a man that caught her eye.
And each season, each ball, each dance passed without a second glance from them.
Eventually Amelia acknowledged that she had the uncanniest ability to fall for the precise man that had no interest in her.
Since she was unwilling to settle for anything less than love, the seasons passed without a proposal.
“A proposal?” she scoffed at herself in a low voice. “Not even a dance, never mind a proposal.”
“Excuse me?” the man still at her side asked, nonplussed. “I don’t believe there are any dances this evening.”
“Oh. Pardon me. I was just—” talking to myself? Snorting at my own absurdity? Laughing at the utter demise of all my dreams?
Etiquette obliged her to muster up an explanation. “I was just thinking about something.” Well…that was better than the alternatives she had thought up.
“I see. Oh—” the man made a motion to no one across the room. “I see someone calling me. I must be off and attend to my…erm…friend.”
Ah yes. The fake I have a friend who needs me excuse. That was more commonplace behavior in her presence. “Of course,” Amelia politely accepted the excuse. “Drat. Where did the apparent arrogant duke with a devastating flaw go off to now?”
Her eyes scanned the room over the rim of her glass. It was about as surreptitious as she knew how to be.
When her eyes landed on the back of the Corinthian, she stopped and about melted on the spot. Where was her fan when she needed it? God. Even from behind, he had a presence about him.
Maybe something good could come of all this scandal. She could choose him.
Maybe.
Then again. Maybe he was exactly what she didn’t need to redeem themselves from the scandal they were in.
Not for the first time this evening, Amelia sighed deeply, as if a breath could blow away the burden on her shoulders.
But it was her responsibility to fix this…situation…even if she wasn’t the one who caused it. If she didn’t act quickly enough, her father would fix it for them. And she knew that way led to ruin.
So perhaps Mrs. Dove-Lyon had been correct after all.
Maybe she wouldn’t find what she was looking for, but Amelia was desperate.
Perhaps trusting the woman was the wise thing to do.
She hadn’t pressured Amelia into anything.
Had even steered her away from her services so as not to disappoint her.
If it wasn’t just about the money for her, perhaps she could be trusted.
Yes. She’d let the older woman make the choice.
Let fate be what it will.