Free Sylvia Day - [Georgian 03] by A Passion for Him

Ware suggested. He bent over her in a highly intimate pose made acceptable by his smile and a wink at the gentleman speaking to them. “Lord Reginald’s discourse is coaxing me to sleep, as well.”
    Amelia fought a smile, but felt it tugging at the corner of her lips. She turned her gaze from the masked man who watched her so closely and met Ware’s concerned blue eyes. “I should like that, my lord.”
    He made their excuses and began to lead her away. As often happened when he sheltered her, her heart swelled with gratitude. She prayed that the feeling would grow into love and thought perhaps after they consummated their marriage it might turn into that. He would have a care for her in that regard, too, she knew.
    She glanced at him, and he caught her gaze and held it. “Everything I do for you, sweet Amelia, is for the occasional moments when you look at me as you are doing now.”
    Blushing, she looked away and watched the man in the mask moving, circling the room at the same pace she was, keeping himself directly opposite her.
    “Would you excuse me for a moment?” she asked Ware, smiling.
    “Only a moment.”
    A female guest walked past them, her appreciative gaze roving the length of Ware’s tall frame.
    “You provocative devil, you,” Amelia teased.
    He winked, stepped back, and kissed her gloved hand. “Only for you.”
    She rolled her eyes at the blatant lie, then made her egress, heading toward the hallway that led to the retiring rooms. She took her time, making certain it would be easy to follow her, then slipped down the hall. There were plenty of guests mingling about. Music swelled from the open ballroom doors. Candlelight flickered in sconces along the wall. She felt safe.
    Taking a deep breath, she pivoted on her heel and faced him.
    He stood several feet back. Amelia arched a brow and gestured him closer. He smiled and approached, but stopped a discreet distance away.
    “Y-your mask . . .” she began.
    “His mask,” he corrected with a definite French accent.
    “Why? Does he want me, or St. John?”
    “I do not know who St. John is.”
    Amelia hesitated a moment, inwardly debating the wisdom of her actions; then she reached into her pocket. She withdrew what she hid there and held it out to him.
    The Frenchman’s head tilted to the side as he considered her. He took what she offered and sketched a gallant bow. “Mademoiselle.”
    “Give him that,” she said. Then, lifting her chin, she walked past him and returned to Ware’s side.

Chapter 5
    “F or God’s sake! Why did you go?”
    Colin paced back and forth before the fire in his study and growled low in his throat.
    “Because,” Jacques said easily.
    “Because? Because! ” Colin glanced down at the object in his hand, a miniature of Amelia as only a lover should see her. En dishabille, one shoulder provocatively bare almost to the nipple, her hair loose and flowing, her lips red and slightly parted. As if she’d been fucked long and well.
    Who was this made for? Not for him certainly. It would have been commissioned many months ago.
    “She looked beautiful, monsieur.”
    Pausing before the fire, Colin leaned heavily against it, wishing he could have seen her. “What color was she wearing?”
    “Yellow.”
    “She approached you?”
    “In a fashion.” Jacques sat on the settee and tossed one arm over the back, at ease. Which was completely opposite of Colin’s own turmoil. “I admire her.”
    Colin released his breath in a rush. “Damn it. I wanted to keep my distance.”
    “Why? To keep her safe? She is heavily guarded.” The Frenchman’s fingertips drummed silently against the wooden lip which framed the back of the settee. “Why is that?”
    “Her sister and her sister’s husband are both notorious criminals. They fear she will be used against them, just as I do.” Leaving the grate, Colin sank heavily into his seat behind his desk.
    “I thought her father was a man of some consequence.”
    “A viscount,