With that, she fled the room. Spencer braced his hands on the arms of his chair and started to rise. He froze halfway. Should he even bother going after her, or would that only make matters worse?

“No, don’t,” Amelia said, reading his thoughts. “She needs time.”

He lowered himself back into his chair.

With a sigh, Amelia signaled the servants to remove the fish. “Spencer, what do you intend to do about her?”

He was too fatigued to be anything but honest. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t known what to do with Claudia for some time now.

“How old was she, when she lost her parents?”

He started to answer, then hesitated as liveried sleeves reached between them. The servant positioned a roast of lamb in the center of the table. Spencer impatiently motioned for the knife and carving fork. Perhaps dukes didn’t typically carve their own roasts, but he found it easier to talk when his hands were occupied.

And surprisingly enough, he wanted to talk about this.

“She was an infant when her mother died. That was shortly before my uncle summoned me from Canada. He had no wish to remarry and produce an heir of his own, so he and my father agreed I would come here and prepare to assume the duties of the title. Claudia was nine years old when the late duke passed away. Since my own father had died in the meantime, that’s when I inherited the dukedom and assumed her guardianship.”

And he’d begun failing her almost immediately thereafter. At least, that’s the way it had felt. He had tried. He’d kept her close for the year or two after her father’s death. Let her travel with him, taught her to ride, read aloud to her in the evenings from Shakespeare, Homer, Milton—never letting her guess that the classics were new to him, too. She was a clever child, and endlessly greedy for affection. He’d given her as much attention as he could, considering the demands of his own new title, but he’d always known she deserved more. And the older she grew, the less he knew what to do with her. She needed education, refinement, guidance, exposure to society—none of which he could adequately provide.

“Of course,” he said, flicking aside a sprig of rosemary as he sawed the meat, “I’ve hired governesses through the years. The past few winters, I’ve been sending her to her great-aunt’s in York. She was supposed to have the benefit of some masters there.”

Amelia sipped her wine. “No wonder she resents me. Poor girl.”

“Why should she resent you?”

Her eyes widened at him over the wineglass, but Spencer truly didn’t understand. He’d hoped Claudia would be happy to have a feminine influence in the house, since she’d never known her own mother.

“Spencer, you are the sole adult she’s lived with all her life. To her, you are like cousin, brother, guardian, and God Himself, all rolled into one. It was plain from one minute’s observation how much she adores you, and here you’ve only been sending her away. She came home early just to see you, only to learn you’ve married with no warning whatsoever. For the first time in her life, she has a rival for your attention. Of course she resents me.”

He had the vague understanding that he’d put Amelia in a very awkward situation. The portion of meat he slid onto her plate seemed poor compensation.

“Have you considered,” she said, testing the lamb with one tine of her fork, “that Claudia might have hoped to marry you herself?”

He dropped the carving knife with a clatter. “Lord, no. We’re cousins. I’m her guardian. She’s fifteen years old, for God’s sake. Barely more than a child.” He suppressed a shudder. Marry Claudia? The idea made him ill.

“I know, but …” She shrugged, cutting into the meat. “Such matches do happen. And she isn’t unthinkably young. When I became engaged for the first time, I was barely older than she is now.” She took a bite.

“You were engaged? To whom?”

It took her an eternity to chew that damned bit of lamb.

Finally, she swallowed. “To no one you’d know. A wealthy squire, in Gloucestershire.”

“What happened?”

“He was so old, and … well, I just couldn’t go through with it.” She poked at her lamb again, looking tense and fragile. Spencer already felt such welling hatred for this Gloucestershire squire, he had no idea how to question her further without … breaking something. And that wouldn’t do much to assure her of his nonviolent nature.

Suddenly she said, “Aren’t you going to eat?”

He shook his head. “I don’t care for lamb.”

“That’s absurd. Who doesn’t care for lamb?”

“I don’t.”

Amelia sighed. “She needs your attention. Claudia, I mean. We should make a fuss over her.”

“A fuss?” Though he was grateful for the sudden change in topic, Spencer wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this. He had a longstanding prejudice against fuss, in all its forms. “What do you mean?”

“Spend time with her, to start. Talk to her. Listen to what she has to say. Every girl her age needs a confidante. I’ll try to reach out to her, but that will take time. She needs wider society. If she’s to make her debut in Town, she ought to begin moving in less formal circles now. I don’t suppose we could take her to Bath or Brighton?”

“We’ve only just arrived here. My desk has accumulated so many papers in my absence, it resembles a snowdrift. Add to that, it’s stud season and I’ve mares to—”

“All right, all right. It was only a thought. No travel. A party, then.” She clapped her hands. “I can do a lovely party, and Claudia can help me with—”

“No. No parties.”

“Well, it needn’t be a grand affair. No dancing. We’ll just invite a few good families, with young ladies her age—make it a musicale, perhaps. You did say she plays. That will give her an opportunity to perform in front of—”

“No,” he said, bringing his fist to the table with a forceful crack. He needed to shut down this discussion, immediately. Braxton Hall—his home and refuge—swarmed with giddy girls and their obsequious relations? His brain spun at the thought. It would be as if Dante had created him an elite tenth circle of hell. “Listen. Claudia is my ward. She is my responsibility, and I will deal with her as I see fit. She’s not ready to begin moving in society.”

“But I thought if she—”

“Your thoughts aren’t required. Not on this.”

“I see.” Her eyes fell. She looked utterly conquered.

Devil, damn, and blast. Spencer picked up his wineglass and drained it.

“Well, I’ve little appetite tonight. Fatigued from the journey, I suppose.” With quiet precision, she positioned her silver on her plate, then folded her napkin and set it aside. When she rose from her chair, he stood too.

“Will you show me to my suite?” she asked quietly. “Or must I ask a maid for directions? I haven’t learned the trick of these corridors yet.”

He offered his arm, and together they proceeded in silence. Through the hall, up the stairs, down the passageway toward her rooms. When they’d nearly reached her suite, she pulled up short.

He halted beside her. “What is it?”

“Now that we’re alone …” She scanned the empty corridor, then abruptly released his arm and wheeled on him. Her eyes sparked with anger. “You will not do that to me again. I’ve waited my entire life to be mistress of my own house. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be mistaken for a servant on my arrival, now you would humiliate me in front of the real ones? On my first day in residence? If you’re going to berate and belittle me, at least pay me the courtesy of waiting to do it in private.”

He didn’t know how to respond. Not verbally, at any rate. His body, however, was responding to her with primal eloquence. His pulse accelerated; blood surged to his groin. At last, here was Amelia again—the bold, spirited woman who provoked him in every possible way.

“And you may not ‘require’ my thoughts on the matter,” she went on, “but you’re going to have them. I’ve known since we met how arrogant and self-absorbed you can be, but this is the first time I’ve known you to be stupid. That girl adores you. With the slightest effort on your part, you could make her so happy. Instead, you’re driving her away, devastating her through your own inaction. By the time you deem the relationship worth your effort, it may be too late.

“What’s more, I could help you. I was once a girl, and I understand how Claudia feels. Now I’m a lady, and I understand how to make a home, welcome guests, care for people who need it. I know you married me solely to get a few children, but if you bothered to look, perhaps you’d see something beyond my breeding potential.” She put a hand to her temple. “You have no idea what more I could offer you.”

“Offer me? You sound like a woman presenting herself for employment. I thought you took offense at the notion of being a paid companion.”

“I do,” she said, bristling. “You’re the one who said your very reason for marrying was to protect Claudia’s future. It’s obvious you care deeply for her. When’s the last time you told her so?”

For God’s sake, he didn’t know. Never?

He said, “If it’s so obvious, why should I have to say it? I provide for her material needs and her education. I establish boundaries to protect her.”

“Oh, yes. You’re so generous. You give her everything but your affection.”

“Well, if that’s the remedy for everything, tell me again why your brother’s a worthless rogue?”

She glared at him, chest heaving. Moments passed. “Are we going to play cards tonight or not?”

Nothing she could have said would have stunned him more. Or aroused him further. He looked to the door of her suite. “Are you inviting me in?”

“To the sitting room. No further.”

He reached past her and opened the door. “By all means.”

She entered and settled herself on a divan. He located a pack of cards in a drawer, then pulled up a table and a chair for himself.

“Will it be piquet again?” he asked, striving for a bored tone as he split and shuffled the cards.

“As you wish.”

He’d been pleasantly surprised last night at how quickly her piquet improved. She’d adapted with each successive hand, integrating new points of strategy into her play. With more practice, she might prove a challenging opponent for him. Typically Spencer had to handicap himself by discarding his best cards, just to keep things remotely interesting.

But if she thought she could best him tonight, she was deluding herself. The only way that could happen is if he purposely lost.

Perhaps he ought to let her win. At least the first hand.

As he prepared to deal, she stopped him. “One round will do tonight, I think. Shall we set the wager now?”

“Very well,” he said, surprised anew. “What is your forfeit? Four hundred pounds again?”

“Four hundred pounds, and you will allow me to plan and host a musicale for Claudia.”

“Agreed,” he said. “And if I win, you will come sit on my lap and undress me to the waist.”

She sucked in a breath. Her wide-eyed gaze seemed to settle on one of his waistcoat buttons. “And … and then what will you expect me to do?”

“Whatever you wish.”

“Ten minutes, as before?”

He nodded in agreement.

“Very well.”

Guilt dragged his heartbeat as Spencer dealt the cards. He’d been planning to let her win the first round. Winning had cheered her last night, boosted her confidence. And victory had looked well on her, painting her cheeks a lovely shade of rose pink.