Page 61 of Real Earls Break the Rules

She met his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?”

“Because I needed you to agree to my plans. I apologize. Do you believe me when I say that I’d never sell your copy?”

She did. She felt ashamed for even thinking it. His confession was also a stark reminder of what he needed.

Money. Boatloads of it.

It always came down to money.

She smoothed her skirts with damp hands. “You told me you wanted a copy of the Dutch artist’s work because you’ve grown accustomed to the landscape hanging in the library and wished for a duplicate, and that your grandmother would frown upon you giving anything to an American. That wasn’t entirely true, was it? You want an exact copy to remain hanging in Rosehill because you don’t want the dowager or your sisters to know of your financial troubles.”

The tense lines on his face returned. “Yes, it’s true.”

“You should tell them,” she insisted. “I’ve come to know your sisters over the course of this house party and they are level-headed, intelligent women.”

His jaw hardened and shook his head. “I’m not prepared for that.”

She didn’t agree with him, but she also understood him. He had so much pride and so much family honor. He loved his sisters and his grandmother and felt responsible for all of them. He’d also shouldered his burdens on his own for so long, he couldn’t share them.

“Thank you for telling me the truth,” she said.

His jade-green eyes studied her with a curious intensity. “I don’t want to lie to you. Not after what we’ve shared. I’ve come to care for you, Amelia. You’re one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever met.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Somewhere along the way she’d fallen in love with him. She’d had no choice, really. As soon as he’d said she was remarkable, as soon as he’d praised her for her dreams to paint the needy and he’d taken her to the factory, she’d lost her heart.

Foolish heart.

How could she have allowed this to happen? The intensity of her feelings was frightening. Less than a week remained of the house party, and her work was almost complete. She’d soon return to London with her sisters and would rarely see him again. There would be no private time together, no intimate talks, no chance to kiss him or feel the heat of his flesh. She’d return to her old life, but things would be different. She was different.

He’d claimed not only her body, but a piece of her soul.

He stepped close. One hand captured her fingers, the other cradled her face. “I want you,” he said simply. “The past two days away from you have been torture. I hated when Weston looked at you. I wanted to toss you over my shoulder, carry you to my bedchamber, and kiss every inch of you.”

Excitement curled low in her belly, and her breath caught. “You did?”

“I do.”

Her heart was a delicate thing and he was playing havoc with it. They stared at each other for a long, sensual-filled moment. He pulled her against him and kissed her. He wasn’t rough like his words let her to believe, but brushed her lips with tantalizing tenderness. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

He lifted his head and looked at her. “I want to talk to Huntingdon.”

She was drowning in a haze of desire. His words were slow to pierce her senses. “What? Why?”

There was only one reason for him to mention a conversation with Huntingdon. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting what she thought.

She tried to take a step back, but his hold on her upper arms tightened.

“You can’t be serious? You can’t mean”—she dropped her voice even though there was no one else present in the room—“marriage?”

“Why not?”

“Because…because I’m not what you need.”

“You’re exactly what I need.”

Oh dear. A part of her was thrilled at his offer. She would get to spend the rest of her life with him, would get to bear his children and wake up beside him every morning. But logic took hold and she found herself shaking her head. “Why?”

“It’s the right thing to do. I knew there were consequences the first time I touched you. Huntingdon is my best friend and you are his sister-in-law. I must act honorably.”