A Christmas Waltz. Jane GoodgerЧитать онлайн книгу.
stared at her as if she’d gone mad.
“That was the first time I’ve ever cleaned a bowl,” she said. “And I do believe I’ve done an outstanding job of it.” She held up the clean bowl for his inspection.
Boone just shook his head. “Lady, you are in a world of trouble.” He took the bowl and left the kitchen, leaving Amelia behind, giggling and thinking she had, indeed, gone quite mad.
With a full stomach, Amelia made her way down the darkened hallway to her room. Back home, she’d probably just be getting ready to go out for the evening, or snuggled by a fire reading a book. But she was dreadfully tired, and since there was no one to talk to and no fire to snuggle by, she lay down gratefully on her bed, thinking about the next day and Carson. Things would seem better in the morning. Everything would work out just fine, she knew it would. Carson would hold her, tell her not to worry, and they’d talk about the wedding and the family they’d have together. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips, picturing herself standing before a tiny rose-covered cottage with Carson by her side.
Amelia was in the middle of a wonderful dream. She was at a ball back home dancing to her favorite waltz, with Carson looking down at her the way he used to. He was beautiful, his bright blue eyes sparkling, his hair long and wavy and glossy, his beard trimmed and dashing. Every eye was on them, every woman in the ballroom gazing at them with a combination of envy and appreciation. He wore all white, his silver buttons glinting in the gaslight, his arms strong as he swirled her around the ballroom.
But for some reason, he was starting to shake her shoulder as they danced, and she scowled at him.
“Stop that,” she muttered.
“But darlin’, you have to wake up.”
Amelia opened her eyes and saw Carson, not the hero of her dreams but the unkempt, wild-looking man she’d been with that afternoon, and she tamped down her disappointment. Carson drew her into his arms and she was enveloped in an almost nauseating smell of smoke, cheap perfume, and liquor.
“Is something wrong, Carson?”
He pushed her back, his large hands on her shoulders, and for some reason he seemed like a complete stranger, not her beloved, not the man who used to pull her into the alcoves of her home and kiss her until her knees were weak.
“I have to go. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.”
A waft of boozy breath enveloped her.
“You’re drunk.”
“Not drunk enough,” he said, and even in the moonlight she could see the flash of his brilliant smile. At least that hadn’t changed.
“I don’t understand. I just got here. Where are you going?”
“Why do you have to do that?” he said, sounding almost angry. “Why do you have to look so pretty? Why do you have to be so goddamn nice?”
“I’m sorry.”
He let out a curse. “Don’t you realize how rotten I am yet?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Carson. All I know is who you were in England. And you were wonderful there.”
“I was a complete jackass. Hell, Amelia, you’re making this so hard. You’re making me not want to leave.”
The truth was finally dawning on her, and she felt her insides clench sickeningly. “You’re not coming back?”
“I…”
“Oh, God, I’m such an idiot,” she said, horrified by the truth that had been there all along, if she’d only been wise enough to listen to the reasonable part of her brain, rather than her heart.
“I’m comin’ back, darlin’. Don’t cry. Please. I’m comin’ back.”
Hope surged, but immediately left her when she saw the look on his face. He was lying, just as he had lied so many times before. But this time he didn’t even bother to try to hide it. Amelia may have been naïve, may have even believed that Carson loved her, but she was not a complete fool.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “Please, Carson. If you don’t mean to come back, don’t lie.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said, sounding tired. Then he flashed her a grin that tore at her already beaten heart. “I might just stay. You never know.”
But the next morning, Carson was gone.
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