Chapter 8 #2
He moved a little closer. “Perhaps I was lulled by your quick decision to accept my offer of marriage.”
“I’m certain we will often disagree in the years ahead,” she warned. “You too easily confuse me for a wallflower.”
“Years together sounds nice,” he murmured, tightening his grip on the coat, and thereby, Amelia. “Can I ask a favor?”
“That depends on what you want now,” she hedged.
He smiled at her cautious response. “Can we agree to always try to resolve our differences before we say good night to each other?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“My late wife…” He shrugged. “She used our arguments to punish me. She wouldn’t speak with me for days on end if I disagreed with her, and…well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience being denied a place in our bed. I would like not to be banished to sleep in the hall again.”
She nodded slowly, and her hand shot out to rest against his chest. “I am a grown woman, not a silly child who pouts and throws tantrums when I don’t get my way. But I will not be silent when you make decisions I disagree with.”
“I expect nothing less. I did not want a wallflower for a wife,” he promised. “I chose a woman who knows what she wants, and what she doesn’t.”
Amelia inclined her head. “You did, indeed.”
Milo breathed a sigh of relief that their disagreement could be so quickly resolved through discussion rather than the alternative. He shuddered as Amelia caught hold of his waistcoat.
She lifted her face to his. “Are you cold?”
“No,” he whispered. Proximity to Amelia when alone seemed to generate an unexpected amount of heat. “Are you?”
“My face is cold,” she warned, wrinkling her nose.
Milo cupped her face in both hands to warm her skin. But she slipped away from his touch.
He let her retreat, knowing his behavior wasn’t entirely forgotten or forgiven…but he was a little disappointed. He liked touching her, but he would never force the issue.
Instead, he leaned against the balustrade and looked over into the dark of the Stapleton Estate.
His childhood home was his future. Amelia was part of that future now, but he had done as much making up as he dared for one night.
“Perhaps we would talk more about this tomorrow, after I find my brother.”
Amelia moved to stand at his side, clutching his coat tighter about her shoulders. “Is there a particular reason your brother wants to live in the woods when he has a perfectly good room here?”
“He was like me, a widower. However, my brother and his late wife never lost their love for each other. He cares not for women nor the advantages of wealth. I fear my brother cares not for anything at all, now that she is gone. For a time, I felt that way too.”
“What changed for you? Why did you really decide to marry again?”
“Last Christmas, watching my daughter long for a mother of her own to share the merriment with and to shower her with attention.” He faced Amelia.
“We were all gathered around in the drawing room, opening presents together. The Raffertys were here. Rafferty’s daughter from his first marriage, Ava, is quite taken with her new mother, my sister, Becca, and I watched as my daughter saw them fussing over something quite trivial.
It broke my heart that Lucy had no one to fuss over her that day, or belong to.
Not that my first wife had done much fussing over either of our children while she lived. But still…”
“Lucy has the memory, but not a flesh-and-blood mother to look up to, to run to when she was scared or frightened. From whom she could learn to be a lady.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “That is exactly what I mean.”
“And you chose me of all people. A lady who could never live down a scandal. Who made a marriage without love and brought the ire of a duke down upon her head.”
“But one who did so with elegant composure,” he noted with a smile. “You are brave, and I want my daughter to be just like you.”
“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered.
“You know, I remember seeing you just after the scandal must have occurred. I called on your brother, not knowing the changed situation when I came into his drawing room. You were there, pushed to the background while your family steered the conversation. I have never seen a room of people try so hard to pretend your sister’s marriage to your beau was cause for celebration.
Your brother had confided in me that it was you the fellow had been courting.
And they made you sit there, listening to their excited chatter about the nuptials.
But your eyes red, even though you forced a smile as you wished them well.
I knew you’d been badly let down and at the time, with your family in the room, I could not say anything that might comfort you.
So I asked for tea, knowing your aunt had always sent you from the room to arrange such things before.
I hoped you could stop smiling for a while. ”
“I did not realize that,” she whispered, looking at him in awe. “You left sooner than they expected, too.”
“I could not stay to celebrate with them. It would have been cruel to you.”
“Thank you. You are the only one besides my brother who thought I deserved sympathy.”
He reached for her hands to hold them tight, and was granted them. “Friends?”
“Not yet, but there could be hope for you,” she murmured.
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the backs, noticing her chilled skin. He would have to end their conversation and return her inside, where it was warmer. “I’ll not let you down again.”
“Don’t begin to make me any more promises, my lord,” she warned.
“Very well,” he agreed, but he worried. Her trust in him was so very fragile. Only time would prove his commitment to making this marriage work for both of them.
“Would you care to join my father and the guests in the music room tonight? Father announced our marriage, but the duchess explained your absence by saying you were unwell. There is time enough for you to change, I think. Perhaps a performance in the music room would break the ice.”
“Only if you want them to dislike me more,” she noted.
He frowned at her. “But you are musical?”
“I play the harp, not the pianoforte, and nor do I sing. But my instrument is miles away at my new home, or so I hope.”
Milo cursed under his breath again. “Damn.”
“I think it’s best I turn in for the night and return your coat to you. You must be thoroughly chilled through by now.”
“Yes,” he said, but he hadn’t truly noticed the cold. He found it invigorating to talk with Amelia. She was easy to be around—when he wasn’t disappointing her, that was.
His reason for this marriage was complex, but he had wanted someone for companionship, most of all. Milo often found the nights the hardest. He frequently relived his unfinished arguments with his first wife, which, of course, could never be resolved.
He held his arm out to Amelia and escorted her back inside to his bedchamber door. He stood back as she slipped out of his coat.
Amelia hovered there by the door, studying him in the dim light as he put his coat back on. The warmth Amelia had left in the garment wrapped around him like a glove, and he hugged the comfort that it brought.
“Good night, Chatham.”
He inhaled Amelia’s scent on his coat and smiled. “Good night, wife. I’ll sleep in my brother’s chambers tonight.”
Amelia stilled. “That is not necessary.”
“I’ll do my best not to wake you when I come to bed later then.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and, after a moment, disappeared inside.
Milo walked away, pondering if they could ever spend a full day in harmony together. He had to do better.