Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal, #4) Read online

  Dear Lord, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful.

  By the time Cornelius remembered to draw a breath, she’d joined him. He tugged at the hem of his evening jacket, smoothed a gloved hand over his waistcoat of red satin and he stared at her as if he’d never seen a woman before.

  “Cat got your tongue, Lord Winchester?” Faint lines of fatigue marred her face along with slight dark shadows beneath her eyes despite strategic use of powder, but no one except him would notice. Was she suffering affects from the terror of the afternoon? Protective instincts welled. He wanted to bundle her into his arms and protect her from everything the world held in store, but he conquered that urge. She wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, he sent another admiring glance over her person. “You look amazing tonight,” he managed in a whisper. “Beautiful sounds so pedestrian when I see you all wrapped in red like this.”

  And now he understood why she wore the color; it was striking and commanding, and it brought her confidence.

  “Oh, Cornelius. You always were charming.” She extended a hand, and he took it. The floral scent of lilacs drifted to his nose to further intoxicate him. “Do you remember when you last waited for me like this?” Slight teasing went through the dulcet tones of her voice.

  “Yes.” He kissed her gloved knuckles but didn’t release her hand. “At that Christmastide house party long ago.” When he peered into her eyes, he fell into those mossy pools, and he drew her closer. “I waltzed with you then. Would you enjoy a repeat performance this year?”

  Of everything except the bad memories.

  “I would like that above all things.” The words were breathless and caused his heartbeat to hitch.

  “Good.” Cornelius squeezed her fingers. “All you need to decide is how many times we shall meet on the dance floor.” He drew her hand through his crooked elbow. “I am completely and utterly at your disposal tonight.”

  “How gallant.” It was she who led him toward the ballroom when his steps dragged. “That is exactly how I adore my men.” Amelia smiled at him, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. The smoldering fires in his blood erupted into infernos. “More’s the pity you didn’t wear your uniform tonight.”

  “Why is that?” Having her on his arm clouded his ability to form thoughts.

  “You’d have me eating out of your hand, for I’m susceptible to that sort of thing.”

  Awareness of her skittered along his skin. “I shall bear that in mind.” And damn if he hadn’t packed his old uniform in case it was needed. Perhaps he’d use it later as a temptation...

  They arrived at the ballroom all too soon. Music and laughter and the buzz of conversation drifted from the crowded venue. Fir boughs decorated the door frames and windowsills. Tin bells and colored glass balls twinkled in the dark greenery. Clove-studded oranges lay nestled in strategic places and arrangements around the room. The scents of candle wax, spices and evergreens, perfumes and powders filled the air.

  “You did a wonderful job decorating; it’s transformed in here.” He couldn’t keep the admiration from his voice. Regardless of what she battled in her personal life, she’d managed to bring joy to others through this event.

  Her tinkling laughter swirled around him. “It wasn’t me. Thank your son and his cohorts, as well as Mr. Jessup and the footmen. I merely suggested options.”

  “Because they wished to please you,” he murmured. “We all do, for you have that effect on everyone.”

  “Oh, stop.” Amelia pulled away. “I must circulate.”

  “Don’t go far.” Then he grabbed the tiny card dangling from her wrist by a thin white ribbon. “I muse reserve my sets.” With an equally tiny pencil attached to the card, Cornelius scribbled his name on two lines.

  She glanced at his entries. “Waltzes. How scandalous.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ll cause gossip.”

  “When have I not?” He arched an eyebrow in challenge.

  A tinge of pink splashed across her cheeks. “Fair enough.”

  He grinned. “Go enjoy the fruits of your labor. I’ll see you again soon.”

  For the next thirty minutes, Cornelius wandered the perimeter of the ballroom. He chatted with acquaintances, nodded at a few ladies, but the only one he danced with was Rebecca. When he guided her back to the collection of gilt chairs, she giggled. No doubt it was an exciting time in her life, and his dancing with her had more easily paved her way into ton society. It was the least he could do for Amelia.

  “Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Miss Coventry?”

  “Yes.” She smiled up at him, and in her face he saw traces of Amelia as well as Peter. His chest squeezed. “You dance like Edward. It’s so funny.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

  “Very good.” A pretty blush infused her cheeks. “I scarcely felt my feet on the floor.” Her smile held no artifice. “Do you take my aunt out tonight?”

  “I will. At the next set, actually.”

  “I’m glad.” Rebecca paused, her head cocked slightly as she considered her words. “I’ve not seen Auntie so relaxed as she is tonight.”

  “Well, planning an event such as a house party is quite stressful.”

  “No.” She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s your presence here, Lord Winchester. Thank you for that.”

  Did he truly make that much of a difference to Amelia? Rebecca’s comment had left him speechless, but he nodded. “I try my best.”

  “Keep doing that. She deserves every good thing in life, and I fear she’s been sad for too long.” Then Rebecca was gone, melting into a knot of tittering young ladies, all wearing pastel colors so that they resembled a box of roses.

  How extraordinary. With buoyed spirits, Cornelius sought out Amelia and found her immediately, for her signature color drew his eye. “I believe our waltz has arrived.” Pride swelled his chest when the men hanging about her glowered.

  For this night, this Christmas Eve night, he could and would believe in miracles as easily as he could believe she was his in a forever capacity.

  With a grateful glance, Amelia separated herself from her admirers and placed her fingers into his palm. “Thank you for rescuing me from them,” she said as he held her into an empty space on the polished parquet floor. “I dislike the attention and feel a good portion of them are angling for a fortune instead of my attention.”

  “I do enjoy playing the knight to your damsel in distress.” She felt all too right in his arms as they assumed the correct posture for the waltz. Those feelings made him daring. “Given the chance, I’d gladly do so all the time.”

  “I think, perhaps, you’re rushing your fences,” she replied in a soft voice.

  “Very well. Forget I said anything.”

  The string quintet struck up the first notes of the set, and he swept her into motion, moving in time to everyone else on the dance floor.

  After the first circuit of the room, Amelia relaxed in his hold. Her smiles came often and easily. She laughed as he made exaggerated turns and blushed when he tugged her closer than propriety demanded.

  Everything around Cornelius faded away until it was only the two of them. With each dip and turn, his body brushed Amelia’s. The heat of her seeped into him and ignited the always banked fires in his blood. When she peered at him with blatant need deep in the depths of her eyes, he faltered on a step as he imagined following through on her desires.

  Yes, this was right, but would she want him past the physical longing?

  Perhaps he shouldn’t think about that. Now was the time to be wicked and bold. “May I tell you a personal truth?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Of course.” When she turned her head, her lips glanced slightly along the edge of his jaw. On purpose or an accident?

  In the end, it didn’t matter. “The first time I kissed you, I wanted more. With one kiss, I was addicted to you and your taste, your heat, the very things that made you... you.”

  Her eye
s widened as she watched him, but she said nothing.

  “No one else could make me feel such a spark, that deep twisting inside out, that raging possession I knew during those three days we had together years ago.”

  The pink tip of her tongue darted out as she moistened her lips. “It was very much like insanity at the time,” she whispered, and she tightened her fingers on his shoulder.

  Cornelius nodded. His confidence had never been higher, and perhaps it made him a tad reckless, but he didn’t care. “The instant I pulled away from your lips after that first kiss—after the hundredth—and fell into your eyes, I vowed to myself that I would follow you no matter where you wanted to wander, merely for a chance of another smile, another look, another kiss.”

  A wash of pink deepened in her cheeks. “You are very much like an addiction, I agree. It’s madness when you’re away, and folly when I’m near you,” she admitted in a hushed voice. She held his gaze as they maneuvered the length of the ballroom. “I can’t forget, not even one minute of that time.” Her eyes darkened. “You are the voice that whispers with every beat of my heart... and I don’t want that to change.”

  Perhaps winning her in a forever capacity wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d assumed. But he didn’t give into the urge to show victory. He’d bide his time, for she was worth it. “Then keep listening to those whispers, Mia. They’ll never steer you wrong.”

  “I will.” It was her who faltered on a step this time.

  The waltz ended all too soon, and he was loath to give her up, but he had to. As polite clapping echoed around them, Cornelius executed a half bow from the waist. “Until next time,” he whispered, and then mourned her absence as she pulled away.

  “I honestly can’t wait,” she said with a genuine smile that reflected in her eyes. Then she was claimed for the next dance, this time by Edward, who sent a wink at Cornelius.

  His heart constricted while he watched them together from the sidelines. Oh, yes, she was his ideal woman and she’d make the perfect marchioness... if he could convince her.

  Charles drifted over and pressed a cup of punch into his hand. “You look parched.”

  “Thank you.” Cornelius gulped the offering down, only belatedly realizing it was heavily dosed with brandy and red wine. “Damnation. You should have warned me.” His eyes watered from the sting of the liquor.

  “Sorry, old chap. I thought you knew.” He grinned. “I must away. Lady Eaton beckons, and not for a dance, I’ll wager.”

  “I thought you were avoiding her?” Cornelius glanced in the direction his friend indicated. Then he was forced to wave at the widow.

  “I was... until she showed me exactly the sort of skill set she possesses.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re a rogue, Trenton.”

  “Yes. Isn’t it glorious?” Without another word, Charles set off in pursuit of the lady.

  Cornelius abandoned his empty cup on a passing footman’s tray. He followed Amelia with his eyes through two more sets. She drooped and wilted with each new person until she glanced about the room, clearly in search of an escape.

  Was it social anxiety she battled with or the company she kept? For she’d not been that uncomfortable when dancing with him.

  When his next set came due, but before he could fetch her, Amelia found him instead.

  “Could we perhaps talk privately?” Worry haunted her eyes. “I must tell you something that can’t wait any longer. It... it seems wrong to withhold it from you in light of how things are progressing between us.”

  “Of course.” Foreboding tingled down his spine. “Are you well?”

  “No. Yes.” She shook her head. Her chin quivered slightly. “I’m not quite certain. I think so, and I hope I will continue to be once I talk with you.”

  “Very well.” He nodded. Finally, she wished to share the secret she kept from him. His heartbeat accelerated. “When and where?”

  She relaxed a fraction. “Ten minutes. In the back parlor at the rear of the house. It’s on this floor.” Before he could ask another question, she was gone, weaving through the crowd on the dance floor.

  Cornelius stared after her for a few minutes but couldn’t manage to shake the feeling of apprehension. How would this alter plans for their future?

  Chapter Twelve

  At the appointed time, Cornelius skirted the perimeter of the ballroom. Charles waylaid him at one of the doors. With a frown, he attempted to move past his friend.

  “Where are you off to?” Charles asked with a hand on his arm. Candlelight winked off the three buttons of his waistcoat, ornate things inlaid with Mother of Pearl set in silver.

  “I don’t have time to talk.” He tried to maneuver around the man, but Charles blocked his escape. “Don’t you need to keep Lady Eaton company?”

  “Oh, her.” He huffed. “She’s good at what she does, but it simply wouldn’t do to promise an entire evening to her lest I find myself in her marriage trap.” He darted a glance around the immediate area as if the lady in question would pop out. “Tell me where you’re off to. You have an intense air about you.”

  “I’m meeting someone.”

  “Ah, an assignation?” Though interest lit Charles’ hazel eyes, something else glinted deep in the depths. Jealousy? Of what, though?

  “Perhaps.” The spirits in the punch that he’d imbibed made him a bit reckless, and with nothing in his stomach, they were even more potent. “I’m about to be late, so if you don’t mind?” Perhaps if all went well, he could cajole Mia upstairs for a Christmas Eve tryst. Would history repeat itself?

  “Ah.” Charles narrowed his eyes. “Do you meet with Amelia?”

  Heat crept up the back of Cornelius’ neck. “Yes. What of it? I believe there is a romance blooming between us.” There was no harm in admitting such to his friend; he’d find out eventually.

  “I see.” For long moment, Charles remained silent. Then, he nodded. “Well, don’t let me stand in your way. You’ve long wished for this.” He stepped back from the door. “I’m promised to Rebecca for this dance, and I’ll do so gladly to help smooth her way into society.”

  “I did the same earlier.” With a nod, Cornelius rushed through the corridors as fast as his knee would let him. In his haste, he’d inadvertently left his cane leaning against one of the gilt-painted chairs in the ballroom. No matter. He’d retrieve it after this meeting.

  Once he gained the parlor, he entered swiftly. Amelia stood near a low-backed sofa of rose brocade. She turned at the sound of his footsteps and held up a hand when he would have greeted her.

  “Mia?” he asked and came further into the room.

  When she saw him, her expression lit as if from within, but then the light died, and anxiety took its place. “This evening has been nothing short of wonderful. Almost a fairy tale, really.” She eyed him as he joined her behind the sofa. “You have been wonderful.”

  “As have you.” He took her hand, reeled her into an embrace, and because he couldn’t help it, Cornelius kissed her. A groan escaped him, for she felt all too good in his arms, almost as if he were being welcomed home after an over-long absence. He moved his mouth gently over hers in the attempt to further woo her and perhaps relieve whatever fears she battled with.

  It was every bit as satisfying as the kiss she gave him on the ice.

  With a tiny sigh, Amelia melted into him, but she didn’t twine her arms around his neck as usual. “Cornelius...” She pulled back with a lingering caress of his lapels. “I don’t deserve your attention.”

  “Why do you say that?” When he tried to embrace her once more, she scuttled around the sofa and put that piece of furniture between them.

  “I’ve been holding onto a secret for thirteen years, but you and I can’t move forward until I tell you.” She implored him with her eyes. “Will you listen to me?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. Despite the intrigue involved and the curiosity buzzing through him, foreboding swirled in his gut. “If this will set you free to
grasp your future—a possible future that includes us—I’ll listen for as long as you need me to.”

  “Good.” Amelia held onto the wooden frame of the sofa, her fingernails digging into it, her knuckles white, for she’d removed her gloves, but it was the grief and the apprehension in her eyes that held him captive. “I told you that I lost a pregnancy years ago.”

  “Yes.”

  “It was the reason I had to marry Grant so quickly.” She held his gaze, hers stricken and luminous, pleading with him for understanding.

  His chest tightened. Had she not cared for him then if she’d cast him aside so fast? “You and he were intimate right after you and I—”

  “No!” Her soft exclamation both alarmed and comforted. “When I married him, I was already two months pregnant—your child, Cornelius.”

  The silence filling the room was absolute and cloying as he gawked at her. “My child?” he asked stupidly as his mind tried to sort the new information.

  “Yes.” The word was a strangled sound. “We’d conceived it during those three nights of our affair.” Her smile was watery, and her chin trembled. “By the time I realized my situation, you’d left England for your next mission.”

  “You never wrote.” Shock battered his chest, squeezed at his heart. He didn’t want to look at her any longer, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. “You didn’t tell me. Why?” Did she think so little of him that he didn’t warrant being privy to such life-changing news?

  “How could I?” She scrubbed at a tear that fell to her cheek. “I didn’t know where you were, and I figured you didn’t want your commanding officer or people in the Home Office to become embroiled in this drama.” A shrug lifted her shoulders. “Time was of the essence for me.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “And if you had decided to try and get word to me? Would you have told me?” They’d created life together, yet she’d kept the knowledge from him this whole time.