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He could tell that Louisa was trying to hide her doubts, but even after all these years, he could still tell when she was preparing herself to deliver bad news. The way she clenched her hands together hadn’t changed. Nor the way she squared her shoulders before meeting his gaze.
“When you left England and joined the army all those years ago, you were angry because I had agreed to wed Nicholas.”
“Can you blame me? All I knew about the man was that he was the head of the family that had destroyed ours. I was young and impetuous back then, and I judged him before getting to know him. But I’m glad everything worked out between the two of you, and between Catherine and Kerrick.”
“I have to ask…” Louisa took a deep breath before continuing. “You gave up the future my marriage would have provided you, insisting you could find some form of employment to help the family. Are you sure you’re not doing the same thing here? Sacrificing your future to save Miss Weston?”
He’d already given that matter some thought. Especially since he knew his friends would tease him again about rushing in to rescue unprotected women. But he’d long since come to the realization that his feelings for Amelia went far beyond duty.
“I understand why you feel the need to ask. And setting aside the fact that you did exactly what you’re accusing me of when you wed Overlea, I want to assure you that isn’t the case here. The way I feel about Amelia…” He had to look away for a moment to regain his composure. “There is no comparison between the two situations. I do want to take care of her, but I feel so much more for her.”
Catherine sighed. “You love her.”
John paused for a moment to consider her words. Love in a marriage wasn’t something that was expected among the ton. It was true he hadn’t been raised as the heir to the Lowenbrock title, but that didn’t mean he’d expected to find someone he could claim to love in a romantic fashion. After all, Louisa had married for practical reasons. It wasn’t until he saw her with her husband now, and Catherine with Kerrick, that he’d realized they both had relationships built on love.
And the way he felt about Amelia… She lit up a room with her mere presence. Her wit, her beauty, her intelligence… He was also proud of her desire to become an author. He couldn’t imagine living his life without her. She brought joy and a sense of belonging into his life that he couldn’t imagine being without.
He smiled. “Yes, I do.”
Louisa tilted her head and examined him for a moment. “But you haven’t told her.”
“Excuse me?” He crossed his arms, not caring if the action might appear defensive.
“Have you told her that you love her?” Catherine asked.
He felt his chest tighten. She did know he loved her, didn’t she? “Miss Weston knows that I care for her—I’ve told her as much. And I did propose marriage.”
Louisa took one of his arms and Catherine the other, both wearing expressions of indulgent exasperation.
“You need to give her the words,” Louisa said. “I know men like to believe their actions should be proof of just how much they care, but women like to hear those three words.”
“Those words being ‘I love you,’” Catherine added.
John glared at her. “Thank you for explaining.”
Catherine shrugged and reached up to place a kiss on his cheek. “I’m only trying to help.”
Louisa did the same on his other cheek and stepped away. “Now, can you have someone show us where you’ve hidden our husbands?”
John shook his head in exasperation and rang for a footman to do just that. Much as he didn’t want to admit it even to himself, he realized his sisters might just know a thing or two about a woman’s feelings. He hated when they were right.
Chapter 30
John’s palms were sweatyand his emotions on edge as he waited the allocated half an hour before leaving his bedchamber. Oliver had been in raptures as he draped each garment on John’s body. He’d chosen a cornflower-blue coat, pairing it with a gold-colored waistcoat. John felt like a peacock, but he trusted the man wouldn’t make him look ridiculous.
His valet was of middle age and average height, but the excitement of the evening took years off the man. Oliver started to hum as he took his time tying an elaborate knot in John’s cravat. The tune rubbed up against his nerves, but the man was so happy John didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.
And now he was left to pace while people entered his house. His bedroom was set toward the back of the house, so he couldn’t hear the front door, but it was two floors above the ballroom. As the minutes crept by, he became aware of the soft hum of voices increasing in volume.
The soft knock at the door, when it finally came, had him rushing to answer it. Surely facing the crowd downstairs couldn’t be worse than the interminable waiting.
He expected to find a footman on the other side of the door. Instead, he saw a much-changed Amelia.
He hadn’t thought she could be more beautiful than she appeared when they made love, her dark hair spread in waves across his pillow, the heat of her desire tingeing her cheeks a light pink while the deep blue of her eyes deepened even further.
The vision standing before him now wasn’t the passionate woman he held in his arms at night—one whom he’d missed sorely since his friends and family had descended on Brock Manor. No, this woman was dressed formally, no hint of the heat she exhibited with him in sight, but she threatened to take his breath away.
Her dark hair was up, a riot of loose curls left to frame her pale face. The medium blue gown she wore matched his coat, and he wondered if that had been a coincidence on the part of his valet.
