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of his worries when met with the face of an angel with the laugh of a siren. But there wasn ’ t anything to the rumors that bothered Charles, in truth. He could see what they whispered about and found no merit in any of it, because if she were his wife, the rumors would simply cease to exist.
    The single thing he was concerned with at this point—and, truth be told, at all points—was Ender. He needed to deal with the issue immediately, and if there was one thing he ’ d learned in taking over the business of the duchy, it was to go to the source when there was discord. He hit the roof of the carriage to call his driver.

Amelia descended the carriage in front of Pembroke House and twitched her skirts straight, thinking how she hated Hugh. She dislodged a stubborn wrinkle at the hem as she walked briskly into the house, nodding politely at the servants as she passed.
    Hate is a rather strong word, she thought. Perhaps she only disliked him a great deal. Or perhaps it ’ s quite the opposite. Must he always appear so? Like a rescuer just when he ’ s needed, as though I cannot handle myself. Which I cannot. But that ’ s neither here nor there, now is it?
    She followed the long hallways and turns and finally entered her rooms.
    It ’ s quite unfair of him to continue with this savior knight façade. We ’ re not children anymore, for goodness ’ sakes. Really. I ’ m to marry another. As he ’ s aware. A tear fell as she collapsed into her old worn chair by the fire, pulling her feet up and holding herself as tightly as possible. She’ d insisted the chair come with her from Pembroke-by-the-Sea, much to her mother ’ s disdain.
    Hugh was her oldest friend. Dearest. There, Jacks had it. Dear, he was dear, quite dear, she thought, and Charles was none too happy about that fact, it seemed.
    She and Hugh had shared so much, but when Hugh had left to pursue his education, her life had spiraled beyond tether. Social situations had become difficult, small, independent trials of her patience and sanity. Her parents had slowly closed their beautiful, powerful seat of the dukedom in favor of a quiet, secluded life. One where their prized daughter, their only child, would not be discovered for what they believed she was: a freak.
    Amelia remembered her first true episode, when Hugh had told her he was leaving…
    She shook off the thought as she yanked the pins from her hair, letting them pull the tendrils at her scalp, feeling the pinch and the burn, wishing anything could take this other pain from her.
    Hugh. Ender. Endsleigh. H ubert Percival Alexander Garrison, the Right Honorable Baron Endsleigh. Hugh. Dearest Hugh. She shook her head. He must be Endsleigh to her. Only Endsleigh. Nothing more. Never more. Never, never again more.
    She looked down to find her hands mussing the silk of her ball gown terribly, and they unclenched, the fingers stiffening in their straightness. The tendons stretched then eased through her knuckles as she relaxed and feebly attempted to brush the wrinkles from the skirt.

    Damn me. Damn me…what? Where was she? Had she actually lost count? Certainly Hugh had made it to at least thrice during the ball alone. Amelia ’ s smile eased her tension as she tangled her fingers together and pulled her feet up under her skirts. She and Hugh still played the game they ’ d made up when they were children. The rule was simple: if they reached four, Hugh had to go home. Neither of them had wished for that, so they’d worked together to prevent his departure from happening. That had been a goal to be avoided, and for whatever reason, it worked.
    What was she to do about this man? And he was a man, no longer the boy of her youth. The entire situation was all too far beyond her control. He was ingrained in her life, too much an integral part of her happiness. Yet as much as she would be happy to spend her life with a man who could calm her in a heartbeat, she was promised to, taken by, and terribly in