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I stared at him, feeling my face blush scarlet. Part of me wanted to pull him closer, to get lost in his touch yet again… but a larger part of me was afraid. Afraid of what would come after that. Afraid I wouldn’t know what to do.
Afraid that the next day, he would be gone.
And so I pushed him away from me, my bare feet dropping to the ground.
“Y-yes.” I stammered, trying to regain myself. “I just… I can’t do this. I’m sorry. It’s nothing you did. I…”
He watched me in silence, his eyes full of concern.
“I have to go.” I finally said, the words coming out in a jumbled rush.
Before he could protest or even say a word, I turned and ran out of the library, my too-long dress billowing behind me.
Chapter Ten
Will
Ihadhopedthatsleep would get her out of my head. When that didn’t do the trick, I figured it would only take a nice hot bath. Perhaps a stiff drink, or a spot of breakfast.
Alas… it did not.
After Amelia and I’s encounter, I tossed and turned, sleep eluding me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her smiling at me, and I felt the soft touch of her baby-pink lips against my own. I couldn’t erase the memory of her in my lap, that mousy light brown hair falling around my face. Even her smell, a simple fragrance of clean ivory soap, was like a phantom, haunting my dreams.
What in the hell was wrong with me?
I had been with plenty of women. I had seduced Italian opera starlets, French courtesans, and dark Spanish beauties… I had even stolen the virtue of England’s finest roses.
But somehow, little Amelia Allen – my childhood best friend, a bloodywallflower– was stuck in my brain. And all we had really done was kiss.
Indeed, therewassomething wrong with me.
Rakes weren’t supposed to feel this… attached. Especially not to women they had barely touched.
But I couldn’t deny that it felt… good. Despite how we’d left things the night before, I felt oddly at peace. As if something that was missing before was somehow in place. I couldn’t say what that was, exactly, or what it even meant. I didn’t have the will nor desire to examine it any deeper.
All I knew was that I couldn’t get Amelia out of my head.
I sat down to an early breakfast, my appetite ravenous. My eyes fell on the liquor cart in the corner of the breakfast room, filled to the brim with finely-cut glass decanters of amber liquid. My immediate reflex was to fill a glass and swallow it whole, as I did every morning. Like clockwork, I found my arms reaching out for the bottle.
But, just as my fingers were about to enclose around the stopper, I froze. The memory of the night before came rushing back to me, like a soft punch to the face. Amelia’s small, bare hand, prying the gin from my own… Her sweet, measured voice, informing me of how I’d been sober all day, without even realizing it…
I stared at the gin. It was only inches away from my fingers, and there was no Amelia to stop me now. What was the harm in a drink? My habits had never bothered me before.
Why should they now?
I took a breath, suddenly noticing how my head felt… clearer. Brighter and more awake. There was no nagging headache. I’d woken up hungover for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like not to. But here I was, completely sober… and it felt alright. Perhaps, if I could begrudgingly admit it to myself,betterthan alright.
A sober William Thorne? No, scratch that – a soberViscount Marsden?Neither I nor my father could claim that title. But here I was, very much sober.
Perhaps…
In a moment’s decision, I turned away from the liquor cabinet, empty-handed. I told myself that I could certainly have a drink later. But for now, I would abstain. It would be an experiment, nothing more. And if I didn’t like the outcome, well, I would be back to my drunken carousing in no time.
It’s what I was best at, after all.
Just as I was reseating myself, the door opened, revealing a nervous face that was far too familiar to me.
Amelia stepped into the room, her expression one of carefully constructed neutrality. It was easy to tell that something was off – there was turmoil in her stormy grey eyes.
