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David near choked. “But you are always late. You take forever to get ready. We’re constantly waiting.”
“I’m not late.” She flipped her ringlets. Oh, how he longed to spring just one and make her squeal. “‘Late’ involves missing a deadline. You never give me a deadline, you all just get ready faster because you have less to do.”
“So if I gave you a specific time—”
“I’d be there. Obviously.” She bumped his hip again, hard. That had to be intentional, right? Just like those tentative-then-bold touches she used the evening they met.
He licked his lower lip. How good it’d be to tease back, to poke and needle until she begged him to kiss her.
As if everything was new again.
As if the past never happened, as if he could trust her not to hurt him, and he could trust himself to do the same. As if everything was not so complex.
Will was right, in a way. He should demand an explanation, why one month she could sneak into his bedroom and the next month become engaged to someone else entirely. Why she could tell him that he wasn’t good enough for her, and yet now, pretend not only that she hadn’t said it but it wasn’t true? It made no sense.
He needed to at least set his mind straight. To figure her out. To understand. And if he could, perhaps the future would be clear.
But now... how could a woman who was so careful and conscientious with her work, who took time to contribute to charity—not for notoriety but because she wanted to—who was always ready to come when her family needed her, no matter where she was, be so, well, cruel with him? But also be so charming and kind and lovely and adorable?
He shoved his hands in his pockets
. Who was he trying to fool? He was all mixed-up a thousand times over.
Still, there was something he could and should ask her about. David cleared his throat. “So that’s what you were doing before we left for Bedford. Sending information to your editor and asking him for help regarding the hotel? That’s all you did?”
“Yes, well, that and dressing and the like.” She threw him a wink that he’d normally find adorable but didn’t disguise the fact she’d lied.
No mention at all of a second telegraph.
Liar.
“So that’s the only business you conducted.” He added a little note of warning in his voice because the woman wasn’t an idiot.
Amalia frowned. “I sent word to my attorney as well.”
“Your attorney?” David near tripped over his own feet. “Was it because of the letters or is there an issue with the divorces, like Ethan asked?”
She brought her good hand down on her thighs with an exasperated slap, muffled only by the blasted layers of undergarments. “Why does everyone think I can’t handle these matters myself? No, I’m not brilliant, but I’m at least clever enough to hire the right people and pay them well for their efforts. And, actually, I’m a bit of an expert in that area at this point.” She puffed a bit. “The divorces are fine. The telegraph was regarding my charity. I told you about it. Remember? Weren’t you listening?”
“Yes...”
Amalia rolled her eyes. “I secured a donation from Ethan after tea. That was the purpose of our visit.”
Oh. Oh.
So that was what they were discussing in private? That was what had made him so sulky and jealous? Oy. At least he kept his mouth shut and hadn’t accused her of anything inappropriate. He’d have to tell Meg that her affair theory was ludicrous.
And apologize to Amalia for even considering it.
And eliminate Meg’s other theory. Quietly. Very quietly.
Before he could comment, or more soothe, Amalia stopped, squeezed his arm harder and squealed. He blinked in the face of the large white columned structure. Hotel? The building before them was bigger than a hospital.
Large oaks framed the bricked structure, as well-dressed men and women murmured in low conversation in ornate rocking chairs on the large shaded porches. He gaped at the opulence. Maids in starched white aprons fluffed pillows while uniformed men served refreshments.
Porters scrambled and snatched the bag from his side, while a man with gold buttons and a bright smile scurried up to them, extending his hand to David in greeting. “Mr. and Mrs. Hale, I presume?”
Hale? That was the alias she used? Her grandmother’s maiden name? He’d have to speak to Thad about this.
