She stared, speechless, hand to her heart. "My goodness! Is she very ugly, or backward?"
"I do not know, and cannot say."
"Oh. Well, are her letters dull, or haughty?"
"I've never corresponded with her. Never set eyes upon her or any sort of likeness."
"Then how on earth were you set to marry?" Amelia demanded, puzzled.
"Entirely by arrangement of my brother, who broke the news three nights past."
"What made him believe he could force you?"
"My father left me something when he died, a good sum, in fact. My brother and his wife had gambled away most of our estate, though I didn't know it at the time. He prevailed on me for a loan, all that I had, but with a promise to repay it on a six-month term. And he never did."
She pressed fingertips to his forehead, and tried to press in the deeper meaning of his words. "How does arranging a marriage fit with it all?"
Patrick's lips twisted into a sneer. "A dowry, which he means to get his hands on."
"My goodness," she breathed, still reeling. "Women face such arrangements every day, but I had no notion that men were pressed by them as well. Even stranger then, our paths crossing." She might as well take her turn, if confession was the order of the evening.
Patrick cocked his head. "Why is that?"
"I also quit town with haste, ahead of some rather forced circumstances."
"You ran away from an engagement."
Amelia pursed her lips. "If you must put it that way, yes." She smiled when he looked chastened. "I had never met him, and didn't care too. Any man Mister Lochner might arrange, particularly with the aim of managing my finances, is of no interest to me whatsoever. "
Patrick shook his head. "This is madness, you know that? What are the chances of our meeting?" he wondered.
"Leaving town under similar circumstances," she agreed. "The odds do seem rather astronomical. Almost like a sign." She met Patrick's eyes, lost in their hazel depths while he searched her face. He shifted and leaned in, to an improper nearness. Heart beating a delicious tempo, Amelia pressed her eyes shut, and raised her chin, lips puckered.
Nothing happened.
She opened her eyes to a frowning Patrick. "What are you doing?"
"Oh! I thought…" Panting, she gestured to her mouth.
"No! No, no." His adam's apple worked. "You just have…" He twirled a finger at her face, "You have a hair just here -" Patrick pinched at her cheek and plucked a wayward strand. "Just a, um, hair."
"Oh." She'd been so sure of his kissing her; her heart still thrummed over it, even if he wasn't a baron.