His stare was unwavering. "I am sorry, because I did not mean to frighten you last night. Life changes everyone, Amelia, and it has certainly changed me. I suppose my behavior is, at times, odd. You are already helping." He attempted a smile and failed. "My sons really do need you. You must focus your compa.s.sion upon them, not me."

In that moment, her determination to help him through whatever struggle he was in was fierce and consuming. She was so thankful she had taken up her position in his household. But she would have to be far less direct, if she wished to aid him.

"Are you scheming?" he asked softly, his gaze riveted upon her face.

She went to the sofa and very carefully sat down at one end. He was in its middle. "I wish to discuss the boys' schedule with you."

His regard moved over her features with care. "We can do so in the morning."

"Good. But perhaps we should finish discussing Lucille and her future."

His gaze wandered over her mouth, then returned to her eyes. "I hadn't realized we were discussing Lucille's future."

"Do you think Southland will come?" She fought the tug of despair. It would be right if the infant were reunited with her natural father.

"I don't know. Perhaps not. He is a bachelor, with a reputation."

Her heart sank. "He will not come, then. A bachelor cannot possibly raise his illegitimate child!"

"Perhaps his parents might step forward. Amelia...are you dismayed or pleased?"

She clasped her hands in her lap, sitting erectly. "I want what is best for her."

"Yes, you probably do. But you have become far too fond of her already."

"How can anyone not fall in love with her?"

He pushed both feet to the floor, sitting up more correctly. "You are twenty-six years old. Yet you have never married, and you do not have children of your own."

"We are discussing Lucille."

"Yes, we are-and she is not your child, Amelia, nor is she mine. But it is glaringly obvious that you have sacrificed your life to the care of your failing mother."

"It is a sacrifice I am gladly making," she said, meaning it.

"But look at how happy you are, being here in my home, caring for my boys and Lucille."

She leaped to her feet. "I do not see the point you are making."

He sighed. "I am not sure that I was making a point. Perhaps, though, you should consider marriage. You surely need a family of your own."

"And then who would take care of you and your children?" she cried.

His gaze widened. "I don't know," he said slowly.

She realized how her comment had sounded and what it had implied. She flushed. "I do not have any suitors, Grenville."

His expression was impossible to read.

She twisted her hands. "What will happen if Southland doesn't come?" she finally asked.

He sighed. "I am not completely without morals, or as irresponsible as is so commonly claimed. I will raise Elizabeth's b.a.s.t.a.r.d if I have to."

Her relief knew no bounds. "I knew you would do what is right. Thank you, Grenville."

"You are attached." His gaze narrowed.

"Yes, I am attached." And she thought about how much his entire family meant to her. For one more moment they stared at one another, and then she excused herself and fled.

THE KITCHENS WERE SPOTLESS. Amelia smiled at Jane, Maggie, Cook and Harold, wishing everyone good-night. She would see them at six the next morning.

"Thank you for your help today," Maggie said warmly, before leaving.

When everyone was gone, Amelia locked the kitchen door and bolted it. She felt very pleased. It had been a long but good day.

Lucille had been fed and was now sleeping. Amelia had taken some supper with her mother, and encouraged Momma to go to bed early, as she was so clearly tired from the journey. Before she had come downstairs, she had made certain her mother was getting into bed. She had also looked in on Lucille one last time. She thought about the infant's natural father, who very well might not come to claim her, and was saddened.

Her day was done. Her only regret, she thought, was that she could not go up and say good-night to the boys. The one thing she knew she must not do was venture into Grenville's family rooms.

Amelia blew out the last candles and left the kitchen. Was she being a fool? Was she worried that, if she went upstairs in the west wing, he would seduce her? She knew better than to dally with her employer, past history or not. Still, she had wanted to offer him some comfort earlier. But he had immediately turned her attempt into something with s.e.xual overtones. She would have to be careful about how she approached him in the future, she thought. When his behavior became suggestive like that, it unnerved her.

Her heart skipped. She must not become attached to Grenville. A friendship was tolerable, as long as her affection remained only that. She must focus her compa.s.sion on the children, as he had said.

She dismissed the nagging of worry, pausing in the foyer. The house was so quiet. She held a taper and she could see into the east wing, just slightly. The library doors were open and a fire blazed within the room, filling it with light.

Her heart turned over. She would love a drink, but tonight she should skip the nightcap, as Grenville was obviously up and about. The previous encounter with Grenville remained fresh on her mind. It felt dangerous to even think of venturing into his company. She should make certain a decanter and a gla.s.s were left in her room.

But she would have to slip by the library to go upstairs. If he noticed her, she would simply nod and increase her pace, she decided.

Amelia entered the hall. She glanced into the library, expecting to find him standing there. But he was not anywhere in the room.

As she looked within, she heard a harsh, guttural cry.

She faltered. The sound had been hoa.r.s.e and either s.e.xual or filled with pain.

"G.o.d help me," Simon cried.

She gasped, because his words were so clearly anguished. She rushed forward. When she crossed the library's threshold, she saw Simon lying p.r.o.ne on the couch. One arm was flung upwards, and he was asleep.

He was dreaming, she realized. He thrashed wildly and cried, "G.o.d, Danton, no!" His words were choked, as if on a sob.

He was in a terrible nightmare.

Amelia rushed forward without thinking. She set the candle down and knelt beside him, grasping his arm. "Simon, wake up. You are dreaming!"

"They are coming for me." His eyes flew open and he stared at her. Tears shimmered on his thick lashes. "I am next. I have been discovered."

He spoke so lucidly that she froze. What was he saying?

"I am going to be sick. There is too much blood! I cannot stand it, not anymore!" As he stared wildly at her, she realized he did not even see her.

"Simon!" She shook him. "Wake up. You are dreaming." She shook him harder still.

And his eyes widened. "Amelia?"

She sagged in relief, still holding on to his arm tightly. "It is all right," she soothed, as if to a child. "You were having a nightmare."

His gaze held hers. "Am I still dreaming?" he asked thickly. With his free hand, he reached out and suddenly she was pressed against his chest as she knelt beside him. Their faces were very close. "I do not mind being comforted now, Amelia," he murmured. "I do not mind at all."

His eyes were fixed on her mouth. He slid his other arm free and encircled her. "You should know better," he said softly, "than to awaken a sleeping man."

She knew she should wrench free, but she did not move. She was in Simon's arms. "You were having a terrible nightmare."

"Yes, I was, and I wonder, am I still dreaming?" He smiled slightly, shifting so his mouth was even closer to her face. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were crushed against his chest. "Are you comforting me in my dreams, sweet Amelia? If so, I do not wish to awaken."

She knew she had to protest. He was half asleep, but that made him even more dangerous. She meant to speak, she truly did, but he leaned closer and grazed her mouth with his.

She went still, her senses exploding with urgency. He made a harsh sound, then feathered her lips another time, and another. Amelia felt the pressure build. She needed him so!

One strong hand went to the back of her head, anchoring her, and his mouth became forceful, opening hers.

Amelia gave in. She kissed him back, heatedly, eagerly, frantically. And their tongues touched....

He suddenly pulled away from her, his eyes wide and completely lucid. "This is not a dream."

She knew her cheeks were red. Her entire body was on fire. She wanted him to kiss her, caress her, she wanted to explode. "No, it is not," she gasped.

For one more moment, he stared. "d.a.m.n it," he finally said. And he shoved away from her, throwing his legs over the couch, sitting up.

Amelia rocked back onto her calves, trembling.

Simon had kissed her and she had kissed him back.

He said roughly, "You are sitting on the floor."

She realized she was doing precisely that, and he was on the sofa, looking down at her. She glimpsed his strained breeches and knew she flushed even more. Amelia leaped to her feet. Her knees felt useless.

Simon stretched back against the sofa, throwing one arm over his eyes.

She covered her burning face with her hands. Now what? She heard him get up. She tensed as he walked past her.

She turned and watched him pour two brandies. He handed her one. "Thank you," she whispered, aware that she should leave, but she desperately needed that drink.

"You might want to think twice about surprising me while I sleep." His tone was calm, his gaze watchful.

She trembled, taking a huge draught of the brandy. It was delicious and she took another sip.

"That will not douse the fire," he said.

She took a third gulp. "I could not possibly leave you thrashing about on the sofa."

"Next time, you might think twice about it. I am not sure I will be as considerate."

She clutched the snifter very tightly. Next time-if there was a next time-he would not stop himself from making love to her. She knew she must not even consider the possibility that she would be in his arms again! "What on earth were you dreaming about?"

His gaze became vacant. "I don't recall."

"You called out someone's name. It sounded like Danton."

He shrugged, but he seemed wary now. "I don't know anyone by that name."

"You sounded anguished. You said there was too much blood!" Amelia cried.

Holding his drink, he walked away from her.

She followed him, determined. "What could you have possibly been dreaming about?"

"I don't know."

"You were not there when Elizabeth died, otherwise I would think the blood referred to her dying in childbirth."

"Leave it alone," he said sharply.

"How can I ignore your anguish?" she demanded, almost furious. "You said something about having been discovered. What does that mean?"

He looked at her, his face hard with anger. "I don't know! It was a d.a.m.ned dream! But you are probably right. I was probably dreaming about Elizabeth!"

"You said that they were coming for you!" she added, not believing him for a moment.

"G.o.d, you are like a d.a.m.ned terrier with a bone!" he cried.

"Who is haunting you? Who is coming for you? Is that why you keep that pistol in your drawer? Is someone pursuing you, Simon?"

"d.a.m.n it," he roared. "d.a.m.n it!" And he threw his gla.s.s at the wall.

She flinched, recoiling. The gla.s.s shattered and brandy stained the beautiful green fabric. "Leave well enough alone, Amelia."

She set her drink down carefully, shaken. She recalled the state of his rooms at St. Just Hall. "We are friends. You have said so yourself."

"Then I made a vast mistake. Right now, you are my housekeeper, and I am in the mood to dismiss you."

She ignored him. "Something is bothering you. You were worried that first night on the road-I saw it in your eyes. I even felt it. For some reason, you were in a rush to get to town. You were gone all afternoon-you did not tell anyone where you were going, or when you would be back. What is going on, Simon? Is someone pursuing you? Are you in danger?"

He choked. "I am not in danger! Your imagination is excessive! And all because of a dream!"

"I would dismiss this incident if it were the only one," she said, never taking her gaze from him.