“I heard this room doesn’t have anyone who can take care of it,” she said, sauntering closer. “I may be of help since my mother and I decorated a few rooms in our mansion.”
Harvey patted his forehead with a handkerchief. “That would be wonderful, miss, wouldn’t it, My Lord?”
“Indeed.” The adrenaline of the fight was fading, and pain pounded in Christopher’s leg again.
He propped against the wall. The lapels of his shirt fell open on the top, and Amelia’s gaze flickered over his chest. He felt that gaze right over his shaft. Curse her.
Another flush dawned on her cheeks. “Are you happy about me helping with the decorations then?”
A moment ago, hurt had stabbed him. But now, with Amelia in front of him and her lovely, expectant face turned towards him, he wasn’t sure he could stay angry with her. Emotions overlapped within him. But surely, taking care of the ballroom’s renovation couldn’t be part of any scheme she might have.
“I’ll be delighted,” he replied.
Harvey released a long breath. “I beg your pardon, My Lord, but if you don’t need me here, I’ll go and talk with the governess to tell her the news.”
Christopher drew his brows together. “Do I have a governess as well?”
“Florence, sir.” Harvey squirmed. “My wife.”
Oh, hell. He should stop terrifying this man. “You can go.” He pressed two fingers on his temple.
“Excellent.” Amelia beamed. That special smile that made a warm flutter start in his abdomen brightened the room.
“Glad to have make you happy.” He meant it.
Her expression sobered. “This is the second time you say that. Is my happiness really important for you?”
Caught off guard, Christopher stiffened. She was right though. He’d decided to give the damned ball for her. She tilted her pretty head, waiting for an answer.
He ran a hand over his thigh. “I like to see you smile and hear you laugh.” Hellfire, why did he say that? It was true, but still, he shouldn’t have said that.
Her sharp intake of breath pushed the neckline of her bodice lower, and a peach-colour spread on her slender neck and face. Lord, he wanted to kiss every inch of deliciously flushed skin.
For the first time since he met her, she was speechless. Time for a strategic retreat.
“I’ll bid you good day.” He bowed and turned towards the door with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Wait, you can’t leave.” Her quick footsteps hounded him until she appeared in front of him. “We need to discuss the details, and we need to choose the wallpaper design, the curtains, and the furniture.”
His shoulders slumped. How had he gone from commanding an army to choose furniture? Oh, right, if he weren’t a cripple, he’d be still in a military barracks, not giving a damn about curtains and wallpaper. And not worrying about whatever game Amelia was playing.
“It’d be a wasted effort,” he said. “The ball is in a couple of days. We can’t possibly find everything we need in such a short time.”
“Didn’t Benedict tell you?” A frown settled between her brow, but instead of making her look angry, it made her look adorable.
Then her words sank in. Benedict again. “Tell me what?”
“He took the liberty to order some of the furniture a while ago. We’ll have only to select the things we want.”
“Benedict took many liberties.” Despite the annoyance at yet another stab in the back from Benedict, he couldn’t help but like the ‘we.’ He liked the sound of the word on her lips.
Another smile graced her tempting lips. “It won’t take long. I promise. Benedict organised everything very well.”
He was sure of it. “All right.” He threw a hand up. A true soldier knew when to admit defeat.
“Lovely. I’ll tell Harvey to prepare the carriage then.” She trotted towards the door, but paused. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
