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His expression softened, his eyes warm and steady on hers. “Amelia, I should like to simply spend time with you.”
She looked down at their hands, suddenly shy. “I might be dull.”
He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I suspect you’re incapable of it.”
“You have mostly known me when I was trying to be amusing.”
“I have also known you while you were listening to music, writing about something that mattered to you, and deciding whether you trusted me.” He turned her hand within his, lacing their fingers together. “I liked you then too.”
Her throat tightened painfully. She had braced for charm, clever words, and easy flattery. She hadn't prepared for him to remember those things, the quiet, unremarkable moments she had scarcely thought anyone noticed. “What would you ask for?” she said, her voice not quite steady.
“I should like to call upon you tomorrow.”
“At what hour?” she asked.
“In the afternoon.”
She looked up quickly, her heart leaping. “You want more.”
“I do.” He held her gaze, earnest and unguarded. “I should like to sit in your drawing room while you tell me what you thought of the day. I should like to take you walking and hear another opera with you, and I should like to stop wondering if our next meeting will be our last.”
Amelia held his gaze, her breath caught in her chest. He had been wondering too. The discovery made her feel less foolish and far more exposed, as though a layer of armor had slipped away, leaving her bare to the air. “I did not believe this was possible,” she admitted.
“Neither did I.”
“I thought three evenings would be enough to enjoy ourselves without making anything difficult.”
“I thought so too,” he said. “Before the first one.”
She gave a small, unsteady laugh, pressing her free hand to her mouth. “You might have informed me that our plan was failing.”
“I would never have done that,” he told her. “Not when I was so enchanted with you. I needed to spend more time with you.”
“Is that so?” she asked. Her heart beat heavier in her chest.
“I cannot get enough of you.” His thumb moved gently over her knuckles, slow and soothing. “I have discovered I need you more than I possibly can express.”
Amelia shifted closer, gathering the coverlet about her as she sat beside him, her hair falling loose over her shoulders. Dominic rose onto one elbow, then settled back against the pillows so he could see her clearly.
She wanted him to understand before she lost the courage to explain. Her fingers twisted in the linen, and she drew a breath. “I value my life as it is. I have my own house, my friends, and decisions I do not need to defend. When Lord Belden proposed, he spoke as though I ought to be grateful for the opportunity to surrender all that.”
Dominic’s mouth tightened, a flash of quiet anger crossing his face, but he allowed her to continue, his hand resting warm and still over hers. “He is a fool, and I do not like that he proposed to you at all.”
“You are nothing like him. You have given me no reason to think so. That is rather the problem.” She looked down briefly, her voice dropping, then returned her gaze to his, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I thought I would know when wanting more stopped being wise.”
“And have you?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.” Her smile trembled at the corners. “I believe I passed it some time ago.”
He reached for her hand again, enclosing it in both of his. “I have no wish to make your life smaller, Amelia.”
“I know,” she said softly.
The answer surprised her by its certainty, rising from somewhere deep and settled. She knew it from his letters, from the opera, from the way he had waited whenever she needed a moment to decide. He had listened when she spoke plainly and enjoyed her when she was difficult.
She could not ask him to prove more than he already had merely because she was afraid to believe it. “I wanted you beside me tonight,” she said softly. “Before we came home. Before I thought about any of this. I wanted to hear what you thought of the music, and I wanted to make you laugh.”
“You succeeded,” he said, a faint smile lifting at the corner of his mouth.