Persuasion

“Men die every day.” He was hard, harsh and angry. “From bayonets, powder, cannon, the Blade... And you are worried about a few little pieces of glass.” He laughed, but the sound was frightening.

She stared, hugging herself. He was talking about the war and the revolution, but why? Most Britons had been affected in some way by the wars, and the average citizen read about the war on an almost daily basis. War stories abounded in every inn and tavern, and rumors ran rampant—the threat of invasion, the reach of the Terror, the possible fall of the Republic. But Grenville sounded almost personally involved. “Have you been to war?” she heard herself ask. “Have you been to France?”

He suddenly turned away. Not looking at her, he walked over to the low table before the gold sofa and picked up a glass of scotch. As if he hadn’t heard her, he studied it. He finally said, “I do not like drinking alone. Is it late? I seem to recall that you enjoy a glass of brandy before bedtime. If I broke the decanter of brandy, there are plenty of bottles downstairs.” He looked at her and stared. His regard was challenging and very, very dark.

The terrible tension returned. “It is midday, Grenville.” She prayed he wasn’t flirting with her.

Sipping, he studied her over the rim of his glass. “Simon. Join me anyway. Drinking alone is an abhorrent habit. Despicable, truly.”

She was not about to have a drink with him, especially not now, like this. “Do you frequently drink alone?”

“All of the time.” He saluted her with his glass.

What had happened to him? Why wasn’t he comforting his children? Why had he avoided his marriage, if Mrs. Murdock were right?

“Ah, I see you are feeling sorry for me.” His eyes gleamed and Amelia realized he was pleased.

“You are grieving. Of course I am feeling sorry for you.”

His smile vanished. “It is not what you think.” He tossed off the rest of his drink and strode over to the sideboard, coming precariously close to walking over shattered glass as he did so.

She cried out. “Grenville, be careful!”

“I don’t care about the damned glass!”

She froze, because he had suddenly shouted at her and there was so much fury in his tone. It was as if lightning had ripped apart the sky, out of the blue. She stared, aghast, as he braced both arms against the sideboard.

She had the frightening urge to rush over to him and clasp his shoulder and ask him what was wrong. She wet her lips and said, “Are you all right?”

“No.” He poured another scotch, his movements stiff with anger. Then he slowly turned and faced her. “Why are you here?”

She hesitated. “You haven’t come out of your rooms in days. You haven’t seen your children.”

“No, I have not.” He made a mocking sound. “And you are here to rescue me from myself?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, we are being honest now.” His gaze darkened.

“When did you become so dark—so cynical—so unhappy?” she asked.

He started. And she saw the wave of anger as it came. He drained that drink, too, and slammed it down. “Has it ever occurred to you that being here—alone with me—is dangerous?”

She trembled. “Yes, it has.”

“I do not feel like being rescued. You should go.”

“I don’t think I should leave you when you are in such a state.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest and began to smile. “I was wrong. You have changed. The child I once knew was so terribly pliant. She was putty in my hands. I am facing a stubborn and annoying woman now.”

His words stabbed through her. “You are hurt, so you are lashing out.”

He laughed coldly at her. “Think as you will.”

Amelia watched him pour another drink, wanting to take it away. “I know you are grieving. Your children are grieving, as well. But grief doesn’t give you the right to behave as if you are a spoiled child.”

His eyes widened. “You dare to berate me?”

“Someone must set you upside down on your ear!” she cried in frustration.

He set the glass down hard, and this time, the drink was untouched. “You were never entirely intimidated by me. Even when you were sixteen, and as naive and as innocent as a newborn babe, you had the courage I find lacking in most women and most men.”

She was rigid. “I do not intend to discuss the past.”

“But you did hold me in some awe. Are you still awed?” His tone was mocking, but his gaze was hard and unwavering.

“Grenville, you could awe no one just now.”

“This is truly intriguing. I look at you and I see glimpses of that trusting, sweet girl—but then I find myself facing a sharp-tongued harridan.”

She flushed. “Insult me if it makes you feel better! But I do not want to discuss the past.”

“Why not? It is there, looming between us, as if an elephant in this chamber.”

“What happened is over, and I have forgotten all about it.”

“Liar.” She started in dismay as he added softly, “You are the one who came here uninvited, into my rooms, seeking to rescue me.... A man who did not know you as well would draw but one conclusion.”

She knew her face flamed. He said, “Do you wish to pick up where we left off?”

She cried out, close to marching over to him and striking him. “You know me better than that! How can you be so rude when you know I have come here to help?”

“Yes, I do know you well.... You are meddling out of kindness. The other day it was rather endearing. Today, however, I cannot decide if I mind or not.”

“Someone has to meddle, Grenville—you are hardly a bachelor, free to indulge yourself. You have a family to think of. You have duties toward them.”

“Ah, yes, duty—a subject of which you are inordinately fond. Who better to lecture me? Do you still take care of your mother exclusively? Julianne was far too preoccupied with her books and lectures, if I recall, to be of any help.”

“She is my mother. Of course I take care of her. And Julianne is married now to the Earl of Bedford.”

He started. “Little Julianne married Dominic Paget?”

“Yes, she did. And they have a child.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Well, your mother is a noble cause, to be sure—but time passes swiftly, Amelia, and you remain unwed.”

She crossed her arms defensively. “I am very content.” She did not know how they had gotten onto such a personal topic. “Your children need you. And that is why I am here. That is the only reason I am here.”