She kept staring out, her profile toward him. He could see her lips press and purse, and there was something mesmerizing in the way she blinked. He’d never thought there could be so much detail in a woman’s eyelashes, but hers were…

Lovely.

She was lovely. In every way. It was the perfect word to describe her. It seemed pale and undescriptive at first, but upon further reflection, it grew more and more intricate.

Beautiful was a daunting thing, dazzling…and lonely. But not lovely. Lovely was warm and welcoming. It glowed softly, sneaking its way into one’s heart.

Amelia was lovely.

“It’s growing dark,” she said, changing the subject. This, he realized, was her way of accepting his apology. And he should have respected that. He should have held his tongue and said nothing more, because clearly that was what she wanted.

But he couldn’t. He, who had never found cause to explain his actions to anyone, was gripped by a need to tell her, to explain every last word. He had to know, to feel it in his very soul that she understood. He had not wanted to give her up. He hadn’t told her to marry Jack Audley because he wanted to. He’d done it because…

“You belong with the Duke of Wyndham,” he said. “You do, just as much as I thought I was the Duke of Wyndham.”

“You still are,” she said softly, still staring ahead.

“No.” He almost smiled. He had no idea why. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” she said, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were fierce, protective. “Do you plan to give up your birthright based upon a painting? You could probably pull five men out of the rookeries of London who could pass for someone in one of the paintings at Belgrave. It is a resemblance. Nothing more.”

“Jack Audley is my cousin,” he said. He had not uttered the words many times; there was a strange relief in doing so. “All that remains to be seen is if his birth was legitimate.”

“That is still quite a hurdle.”

“One that I am sure will be easily reached. Church records…witnesses…there will be proof.” He faced front then, presumably staring at the same spot on the horizon. He could see why she’d been mesmerized. The sun had dipped low enough so one could look in its direction without squinting, and the sky held the most amazing shades of pink and orange.

He could look at it forever. Part of him wanted to.

“I did not think you were a man to give up so easily,” she said.