LITMIR.BIZ

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wounded Fowler back from the battlefield, despite his own injury. Fowler, the supposed fiancé who had abandoned Amelie on the streets of Brussels—although Edmund had said nothing to Glenville about that. Fowler had been wounded in the ill-fated Scots Greys’ cavalry charge. Would Glenville have brought Fowler back to Brussels if he’d known how reprehensibly he’d treated Amelie? Edmund did not regret saving Fowler, though. Even a cad like him did not deserve to die on that battlefield. Too many of them died undiscovered, and none of them deserved that fate.

      How strange was fate? Edmund’s life had become entwined with Glenville when he married Edmund’s sister. Had Glenville not met Edmund, he might have walked by Edmund at Waterloo and not asked him to help bring Fowler back to Brussels. Care of Edmund’s leg might have been delayed. The wound might have festered. He might have lost his leg. Or his life. Many of the wounded died for lack of immediate care.

      Fate also entwined him with Fowler, a man he’d preferred to have known nothing of. But he would not for all the world have missed his brief time of knowing Amelie. What if he’d never met her? What would have happened to her if he’d not noticed her on the streets of Brussels that night, had not been there to save her from that brute who’d meant to molest her? What if he’d not walked her back to the hotel, not made love to her?

      How the memory of that night had sustained him! During the hard fighting at Quatre Bras. All during the rain-drenched night after that battle. During tense moments of inaction at Waterloo.

      After his injury.

      Knowing that Amelie, with all her warmth, beauty and passion, was still in the world had been and still was a comfort. Spending those precious hours with her had been like touching light. He’d become more resolved than ever to make something of his life, to succeed where his father had failed, to prove to his departed mother that her sacrifices had not been for naught.

      How had Amelie fared? What memories did she hold about that night? Regret? Shame? He fervently hoped not.

      Of course, he could simply ask Glenville how Amelie was.

      ‘How is Tess?’ he asked instead.

      Glenville’s expression turned soft. ‘Tess is wonderful.’

      Edmund nodded in approval. Tess deserved such a man to love her.

      ‘And your family?’ he went on.

      ‘My parents are getting along very well.’ Glenville spoke this with some surprise.

      ‘And your sister?’ He tried to keep his tone even.

      ‘Amelie?’ Glenville rubbed his forehead. ‘Amelie has had it rougher than the rest of us. Fowler, you know.’

      Edmund was surprised. ‘Fowler died, didn’t he?’ That should have been the end of it for her.

      When last Edmund saw Fowler, he’d been barely clinging to life—but still alive. Glenville and Tess had taken him back to England to his parents. Edmund had stayed in Brussels to be cared for by Lady Summerfield, his half-sisters’ mother, and her lover, Count von Osten. Even though that lady had run away from Edmund’s father and abandoned her children years before, Edmund had searched for and found her. He’d stayed with her and the count in Brussels both before the battle and after.

      ‘Fowler lived,’ Glenville said. ‘But there is no thought of marriage between him and Amelie now. His parents said he was in no condition to marry and that it was best to break the engagement. Amelie never speaks of it, but there is no doubt she’s been changed by all this.’

      Was the change due to Fowler? Or was Edmund responsible? It had been nearly three months since that night together. He’d hoped she’d rebounded from both.

      He and Glenville continued walking past Carlton House, the grand residence of the Prince Regent.

      Glenville suddenly halted. ‘I have a better notion than going for a drink! Come to dinner tonight. My parents are at the country estate, but that will give you and Tess more of a visit. We have no plans for the evening. I will go home directly and send word to you at your hotel if by some chance we must withdraw the invitation, but I can think of no reason you should not be very welcome.’

      If Glenville’s parents were in the country, Amelie would be with them. There was really no reason not to see Tess now that she knew he was in town. He could tell her in person what he’d planned to write in a letter.

      Besides, he missed her. And Genna and Lorene.

      Might they be in London, too?

      ‘Dinner. Name the hour and I will be there.’

      ‘Come at seven,’ Glenville said. ‘We are at my parents’ on Grosvenor Street. Third house from the corner adjacent to the square.’

      Edmund had not spent much time in London and none in the fine houses around Grosvenor Square, but he knew where Grosvenor intersected with Bond Street. ‘I will find it.’

      Glenville smiled. ‘Excellent! Tess will be happy to have a nice long visit with you.’

      * * *

      At a little past seven, Edmund sounded the knocker at the third town house adjacent to Grosvenor Square.

      A footman opened the door, and Edmund gave him his name. ‘This way, sir.’

      Edmund followed him to the door of the drawing room, where he was announced. As Edmund stepped into the room, Tess was already on her feet, rushing towards him.

      ‘Edmund!’ She flung herself into his arms for a hug. ‘What a nice surprise.’ She immediately pulled away to look at him. ‘How is your leg? Marc said it was healed. Is it? Does it pain you still?’

      He smiled at her, surprised how pleased he was to see her. ‘My leg is healed. Nothing to worry over, I assure you.’ He gazed at her sparkling hazel eyes, her shining chestnut hair. ‘You look even more beautiful than in Brussels, Tess.’

      She blushed. ‘I am happy. That is the reason.’

      Her husband approached. ‘How good you could come on such short notice. I am delighted we will have the evening together.’

      Glenville and Tess stepped aside.

      From a chair near the fireplace, another woman stood. ‘Hello, Edmund.’

      Amelie! He caught himself before he spoke her name aloud, bowing instead. ‘Miss Glenville. Good to see you again.’

      A memory of holding her in his arms, feeling her soft skin against his palms, her lips against his, slammed into him. He’d missed her, although why he should miss a woman he’d only spent a few hours with would make no sense to anyone.

      Except to him. Those hours together had had an impact that would never leave him. She was the inspiration for him to dare to make himself a success.

      She looked as beautiful as ever, but thinner. Paler.

      ‘You must call me Amelie.’ Even her voice seemed altered. Softer. Tenser. She made an attempt at a smile.

      Tess pulled him towards the sofa, near Amelie. ‘Come. Sit. Marc will pour you a glass of claret. You must tell me why you are in London and why you did not write to us that you were coming.’ She gave him a scolding look.

      He glanced at Amelie, who sat again, before turning to Tess. ‘I assumed you would be in the country.’ He assumed they all would be in the country.

      ‘Marc had some work to finish,’ Tess said. ‘And Amelie came for a visit.’

      Marc poured the wine and handed a glass to him and one to Tess. ‘That was why I was at Horse Guards.’

      Edmund tore his eyes away from Amelie. ‘Work brought you to Horse Guards?’ What sort of work at Horse Guards did a viscount’s heir perform?

      Glenville smiled. ‘Indeed.’ But he did not explain.

      It appeared Edmund and Amelie were not the only ones to keep secrets.

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