His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) by Rose Gordon Read Free Book Online Page A

she could comprehend, but she'd had no desire to kiss
him back. And it wasn't because of the secret she possessed or
because they were at his friend's, but quite simply, his actions
were cold and devoid of any emotion, done solely out of
obligation—a fact that hurt worse than a simple, honest
rejection.
    A raw, strangled sound broke the
silence in the carriage.
    “ Elijah, are you feeling all right?” she asked before she
could stop herself.
    Elijah snapped his eyes open. “Yes.
Are you?”
    Amelia ignored his question. She'd
already given herself away that she was not sleeping; she might as
well make the best of it. “Are you sure you're all right? Your
hands are clenched into fists and your face was just contorted the
same way it did the time Henry hit you with the end of his pall
mall mallet.”
    He winced and like it always did when
this topic was mentioned, his right hand drifted down to idly rub
his shin. “That is undoubtedly one of the most painful memories of
my boyhood.”
    “ Yes, I know.” She changed positions and tucked her
stocking-clad feet up under her. Lady Templemore had graciously
offered her one of her traveling gowns and though reluctant, Amelia
had accepted. She'd have been a fool not to. “You actually
cried.”
    “ I did not.”
    “ Yes—” she pinned him with her gaze— “you did.”
    He scoffed. “I most certainly did
not.”
    Amelia arched her brow. “Hmmm, I seem
to recall things a little differently. First there was the
shriek—”
    “ I know for certain that I did not shriek,” he cut in,
scowling. “I might have yelped, but I did not shriek.”
    She grinned at him. “All right, and
how do you explain the moisture that surrounded your eyes following
your yelp?”
    “ Perhaps a bug flew into my eye and I was trying to flush it
out.”
    “ Into both eyes at that precise moment?” She shook her head.
“No, you were crying. Just admit it.”
    “ All right,” he said, throwing his hands into the air. “I
admit I had tears in my eyes. Who wouldn't after having a two pound
chunk of wood collide with the front of their leg in such a
manner?”
    She shrugged. “I don't know. You were
the one who denied you cried about it.”
    “ That's because it's unmanly,” he informed her, crossing his
arms.
    “ It's unmanly to cry?” she asked for clarification that he had
in fact just said the stupidest thing she'd ever heard.
    “ Of course it is.” He twisted his lips. “ Unless you're a molly,” he grumbled
almost inaudibly.
    “ And what, pray tell, is a molly?” She nearly laughed at the
look of shock that had come over his face at her question. “You
ought to know by now that my hearing is good enough to hear when
you mumble under your breath.”
    Elijah flicked his wrist. “Don't worry
about what a molly is. In the unlikely chance you ever make the
acquaintance of one, he probably wouldn't cry in front of
you.”
    She frowned. “I've seen Philip cry and
I'm fairly certain he's not a molly, whatever that is.”
    “ Was he ten years old and standing too close when his sibling
swung their pall mall mallet, too?”
    “ No. He lost his prized thoroughbred in a card game and when
Mr. Maxwell came to collect his winnings, Philip—”
    “ Please, stop, I pray you,” Elijah interjected, lifting his
hand to halt her words. “I'm sure there was just a bit of stable
dust in his eye.”
    “ Ah, is that what you gentlemen call it?”
    “ When we're genuinely tearing up, yes,” he said with a
grimace. “But I have difficulty believing Philip cried about losing
his horse. In that situation, I think he really did have something
in his eyes.”
    “ No, I'm fairly certain he was crying. It was his prized thoroughbred .”
    “ Prized thoroughbred or not, no man cries about losing
something. He might frown or scowl, but he doesn't cry.”
    “ So when does a man cry?”
    “ He doesn't,” Elijah burst out.
    “ Ever?”
    “ Ever.”
    “ But what if he's hurt? Do his eyes not