She lowered her hand, offering up a shy smile. “It is a habit of mine. I do not know when it began.”
“But I can guess who caused it,” Lionel muttered, his tone harsh for a moment as his eyes flared behind his spectacles. “I do try not to hate people, as a rule, but—forgive me—I cannot abide your brother. I cannot understand any man who does not treat his sister with care and affection.”
Her heart fluttered, prompting her to take a sip from her cup of tea to try and gather herself.
“Rebecca is very lucky,” she said, her throat slightly less dry. “What is more, I believe she knows how lucky she is.”
Lionel mustered a tired smile. “Sometimes, I fear that I spoil her.”
“I do not think that is true, but if it was, there is advantage in it,” Amelia replied, feeling more at ease with each passing minute.
“Oh?”
“Well, you can be certain that she will not settle for a husband who will not treat her well,” Amelia explained. “She has you as an example of what a gentleman should be, and what she deserves in terms of being looked after. Anything less will not be satisfactory to her.”
Lionel’s eyebrows rose a half inch. “I had not thought of that.” He groaned, scrunching his forehead. “Goodness, I do notwantto think of that, but she is debuting next year. I do not know that I shall ever be ready to see her leave to another man’s residence, where I cannot know if she is safe and well.”
It warmed Amelia’s heart to hear him speak of Rebecca like that. Lionel cared for his family above all else, and perhaps that was why he continued to come to her defense—she was part of his family now too.
But… it cannot be just that.The kiss returned to her mind and as she gazed at Lionel, watching him sip from his cup of tea, she noticedhisgaze flit from her eyes to her lips. She swallowed thickly, hardly daring to hope that such a wondrous moment might happen again. It made her heart race just considering the prospect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Ihope you were not planning to sleep in here tonight,” Amelia said, forcing herself to keep holding his gaze, no matter how flushed her skin became.
They had been reading quietly for a while, working their way through the pot of tea on the side-table. Amelia did not mind the companionable silence, but she knew she could not waste the opportunity that was before her: Time alone with her husband.
Lionel shrugged. “I had not decided. In truth, I do not think I will sleep at all.”
“Your nightmares again?”
He tilted his head from side to side, an odd shine in his eyes. “Something like that.”
“Will you let me help you?” She set her cup down and shuffled to the edge of the reading chair. “I kept looking for you, you know, with the tea my mother used to brew, but I could not find you.”
He grimaced slightly. “I am aware but, as I mentioned, I will not go ‘underground’ again for a while.”
“You really must tell me who your spies are.” Amelia laughed away her curiosity, uncertain of who was relaying information back to him. She never saw anyone in her nighttime adventures through the manor, but clearly she was never as alone as she thought.
“I could not reveal their identity,” Lionel replied with a half-smile.
She pulled a face. “Very well, but youwillallow me to help you sleep.”
Steeling herself, gathering all of her courage, she got up from the reading chair and crossed to where Lionel sat. Refusing to lose her nerve, she perched on the wide armrest and slowly brought her fingertips to her husband’s temples.
He did not stop her, gazing at her with those beautiful green eyes, gleaming behind his endearing spectacles.
“As much as I love these, I need to remove them,” she said, gently pulling the spectacles from his face.
Again, he did not stop her, watching her every move intently as she set the spectacles down and returned her fingertips to his temples. Aware that she could barely breathe, she began to massage in gentle circles, using the technique she remembered from her childhood. His skin was warm and smooth, though there was one tiny scar at the tail of his left eyebrow, and as she sought to relax him, she mapped every detail of his handsome face.
There were some flecks of gold in his fir green eyes, and faint freckles across his cheeks and nose, while a filament thin scar cut in a diagonal across his lips—so faint she had missed it before. His high cheekbones cast a shadow that made them seem even more defined, and there was a slight dimple in his chin that she longed to touch.
Every half a minute or so, she added small circles between his eyebrows and smoothed her thumbs over the arch of his eyebrows, back to his temples.
At first, he continued to gaze at her, but as she worked her magic and the tense muscles of his face began to relax, he closed his eyes and settled back into the reading chair.
“You and Rebecca do not look so much alike,” Amelia said, seeing an opportunity to ask some questions. “Does one of you resemble your mother and the other, your father?”
