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rather like probing at a sore tooth.
Ash shrugged. She has recently arrived in London.
In the country, she makes her home with her parents,
whose estate marches with ours.
Ah, you ve known each other for a long time.
Almost all our lives. Ash faced her abruptly, and
the faint glow of candlelight from the house turned his
eyes to molten silver. She and I were to be married,
he said harshly. Is that what you wanted to know?
She stared at him searchingly. Are you still in love
with Lianne? she asked finally in a low voice.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a
sudden movement, he grasped her to him and bent his
head. I shall let you be the judge of that, he growled
just before he brought his mouth down on hers.
Chapter Ten
All in all, thought Amanda, sipping her chocolate
contemplatively the morning after the ball, the evening
89
had been interesting, to say the least. Events surfaced
in her mind like dolphins displaying themselves to
spectators on a ship. There was the dizzying magic of
the waltz with the Earl of Ashindon, the confrontation
with her supposed lover, Cosmo Satterleigh, the rather
peculiar meeting with the beautiful Lady Ashindon,
supper with Ash and later that shattering kiss.
There had been nothing tender about it. His lips had
ground into hers with a brutal ferocity, and his arms
had enveloped her so tightly that she struggled for
breath. She had been outraged at his tactics, but she
had recognized almost immediately the anguish that
surged within him. Instinctively, she realized that he
was lashing out in pain like a wounded animal. And, if
truth be told, something in her responded to the feel of
his mouth on hers and the hardness of the body
pressed so unrelentingly against hers.
After only a few seconds he had pulled back, an
expression of appalled astonishment on his face.
I I m sorry, he rasped. My God, Amanda, I m
sorry. I don t know He had grasped her arm once
more and without another word he propelled her back
to the house. She had seen almost nothing of him
until the end of the evening, and the ride back to
Upper Brook Street with Serena and Jeremiah had
been silent except for her mother s steady stream of
self-congratulatory chatter on Amanda s success. He
had left the Bridges at the door with a strained
promise to visit later in the week. As he turned to go,
he looked at Amanda again as though he would have
said more, but he simply bowed and wheeled out into
the night.
Amanda took another sip of her chocolate. It was
not as though she d never been kissed before,
although Derek had been her last lover. Since then,
she had been the recipient of friendly busses from time
to time, plus the occasional consolation-seeking em-
brace from friends who had just broken up with other
friends. Even before Derek, her carnal encounters had
been few and far between. It took a special sort of man
to go beyond deformities of the body to reach the spirit
beneath, and that kind, like they said, was hard to
find.
Now, she reflected ruefully, even with her new Miss
America makeover, she was still being kissed by men
who loved somebody else.
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For there could be no doubt that Ash was in love
with the lovely Lianne. She experienced a forlorn
flutter in the pit of her stomach at the thought. What
had happened? she wondered. He said they had been
betrothed. What had driven them apart? Surely she
must have known what was his name?
Grant? during all her growing-up time. Why had she
waited until Ash had declared himself to decide she
preferred the cousin? And why, for God s sake, now
that Lianne was free, was Ash mooching around
Amanda Bridge?
Well, that was a pretty stupid question, wasn t it?
Obviously the widow of his impoverished cousin
wouldn t have two pennies to rub together, and Ash
wanted money very badly. Wanted it more than he did
his lost love, apparently.
Amanda found she was gripping the handle on her
cup so tightly her knuckles had whitened. She was
unwilling to contemplate whether her distress was
caused by the thought of Ash s greed or the fact that
he was in love with someone besides her own gorgeous
self. At the very least, she found the latter thought
startling. She had always assumed that it was her
flawed face and figure that had driven men away.
Perhaps the flaws went deeper. Perhaps it was simply
the woman beneath that was unlovable.
My God, there s a cheerful concept to start out the
day, she thought grimly. She set her cup and saucer
down on the bedside table with great precision and
tossed back the coverlet. She had more important
things to think of right now. Like how she was to end
this whole ludicrous charade. Who knew how much
time was elapsing in her own life while she flitted
about the social scene in Regency London? Her
vacation was slipping away, and in a few days she was
due back at work. Her desk would be piled high with
reports to grade, her schedule filled with meetings,
phone calls, and the other assorted impedimenta of
academic life.
Where was Amanda McGovern right now? Lying
comatose in a hospital ward somewhere? Dear God!
She cried the words silently. She had to do something!
She began scrambling frantically into one of the few
gowns she possessed that she could don by herself.
Having accomplished this, she sank dejectedly onto
the little chair before her dressing table. Do what?
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Listlessly she drew on stockings and shoes, then rose
to stare unseeingly out the window at the vendors on
the street. She d spent hours in Grosvenor Chapel,
meditating furiously, with no result. She d kept a
constant eye out for the apple-cheeked little old person
who was apparently her only connection with her real
life, but she and/or he had made no more
appearances. She d tried everything but prayer and
fasting, and she still awoke every morning in this fussy
little bedroom with a cup of grainy hot chocolate set
before her. She could have screamed with
frustration and a growing, unnamed fear.
For some moments, she continued her fruitless
deliberations until, despite herself, her attention was
caught by a youngster juggling apples from his
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