Chapter 13 #2
“Not you,” Stapleton snapped. “But it is you whom I must speak to.”
Amelia braced herself. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“You and my son… parted on bad terms last night.”
She gulped. “Yes.”
“I hope in his absence, you will choose to stay a while longer,” the duke murmured, wincing.
Amelia frowned. “What do you mean, in his absence?”
“I’ve just been told he left the estate unexpectedly last night. Didn’t you know about him going?”
Amelia shrank back in shock that Chatham had gone and left her behind over a moment of drunken madness on his part. She swallowed down a scream. “Did he take the children with him?”
The duke’s eyes narrowed. “No. They remain in the nursery, and are unaware so far.”
“I see.” She shuffled her feet, acutely embarrassed that the duke had to be the one to tell her that her husband had fled their marriage. “Where has he gone?” she asked, voice shaking with anger.
“I honestly don’t know,” the duke said. “He left in the dead of night. On horseback after the ball had ended. Damn foolish thing to do. He’ll break his neck—or I will.”
“Oh.” Amelia’s spirits sank even lower than they had been last night. She looked toward the manor and felt sick to her stomach. “He said nothing to me. He never does. He never will…”
The duke sighed. “You’re upset.”
“Of course, I’m upset!” she snapped at him. “He doesn’t trust me or any woman to remain faithful after what his first wife did to him.”
The duchess put an arm around her back and hugged her. “But you deserve his faith.”
She threw off the duchess’ embrace and turned away, unable to contain her anger over him and the world.
Chatham claimed to dislike scandal, but he would be the cause of one—not her.
She looked back at the duke. “I was quite content to remain a spinster forever, until he convinced me I’d make an adequate wife. ”
The duke’s brow rose. “Only adequate?”
She bit her tongue, appalled she’d revealed so much out loud but unable to take it back. The duke appeared amused by her outburst and watched her in silence.
Amelia strove for calm. But she could not find it easily. Not this time.
She faced the duke and he nodded.
The duke turned to the duchess. “You’re needed at the manor, my dear,” he murmured. “Your special guests have arrived.”
More guests? That was all Amelia needed today.
“Perhaps a cup of tea will soothe her pride while she decides what to do,” the duchess mused. “I’ll arrange it.”
Amelia ground her teeth. Tea would never prevent a scandal, no matter how well meaning it might be offered. She scowled at the duke. “There is nothing to be done about me. And it is not my pride that is hurt, but my—”
She bit her tongue.
Hard.
The duchess came forward again. “Your what, my dear?”
It was her heart that hurt so badly, but she shook her head denying Chatham had such a great hold over her. “My patience.”
“Of course, my dear,” the duchess said softly. “We understand perfectly.”
Amelia had not thought a marriage of convenience could cause so much grief and confusion so soon. It had seemed a simple undertaking at the beginning: marry Chatham, take charge of his household and his children, share his bed to conceive—and one day they would be a family.
But they could not be a family if Chatham ran away over a ridiculous misunderstanding he’d created.
It wasn’t as if she had any means to chase after him, either, and she would not do that, even if she could.
She did have some pride. Yet, right now, she was smarting and lashing out at the only people around.
The duchess excused herself and headed back to the manor, leaving her alone with the duke, who would only blame her for his son’s disappearance. Yet what else was she to do but wait here for Chatham to realize his mistake and come back?
If he ever did.
Her cheeks grew warm when she realized he might not. The party guests could lap up her humiliation and the scandal with their hot chocolate over this morning’s paper, when the servants whispered of it.
“I’d like to be alone.”
“I think not,” the duke replied. “Come back to the manor and to the duchess, now.”
She could not refuse the duke—but she wanted to, very much.
The duke marched her back to the residence at a brisk pace, hand under her elbow. He was silent for a while…but then he cleared his throat. “I… I would like to explain my reaction to your marriage to my son better.”
She shook her head. “There is no need to explain, Your Grace. It is understandable that you would be upset your son chose so poorly.”
“I never expected him to ever wed a second time of his own free will. My son was grievously wounded by his first wife’s betrayal.
When he expressed disinterest in making a second marriage, we argued about it.
But in the end, I admit I was relieved that he would be spared further pain.
He needed time to forget that it all went so terribly wrong before he returned to the marriage mart. ”
“And then he married me. A virtual stranger without any courtship.”
“But you are not quite the stranger I first believed you to be, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You understand my son better than most.”
She sighed. The duke was fishing for information and she couldn’t see any reason not to answer his questions. “He was my brother’s friend for a long time. We have met, dined together, and even spoke during my one and only season. But that was before he met her.”
“And married her so quickly,” the duke finished.
“Yes.”
“Forgive me for being indelicate…but had there been anything between you then?”
She looked at the duke with complete astonishment at the question.
“Your son was good company, pleasant and charming. But there was never any hint of romance between us at any time. There was no ‘us’ then. Nor is there now, it seems. We were simply…near each other. His first wife had, and still has, his complete attention.”
“And she had the attention of many others, too,” Stapleton replied darkly.
“I’m sorry for that. No one in love should be so betrayed.”
“But you were betrayed, too,” he said.
“Yes. That was why he chose me, and why I accepted. We both knew what it felt like to not be enough.”
“Do you still regret the loss of your beau?”
“No, I don’t. He was everything a beau was supposed to be. Charming, and attentive. He flattered me but I was not the only recipient of his false praise,” she confided. “He was not a good man in the end and I am glad to be spared his company now.”
The duke walked on a few more steps in silence, pondering what she’d just confessed. Then he said, “Marriage takes work. Do not give up on my son so easily. And do not make excuses for him, either.”
“I cannot give up on someone who has already given up on me, can I?”
“I’m sure he’ll be back.”
She shrugged. “For his children, at least.”
“For more than that,” the duke told her. “He only gets upset like this when his emotions are involved.”
Before she could respond, he led her up the stone steps of the terrace.
The duchess was waiting at the top, and when their eyes met, she gave a little cry and rushed to embrace Amelia as if they had been apart for some time.
At least someone liked her here. Amelia bore the motherly embrace for a few moments and then gently attempted to push the woman away.
“Come inside for tea, my dear.” The duchess put her hands on Amelia’s cheeks, cupped her face, and smiled brightly. “There’s someone waiting to meet you.”
“Who?” Amelia murmured, though she hardly had the will to face anyone new. She followed the duchess inside, doubting tea would lift her spirits but willing to try.
What she found instead was a room full of Westfalls. Jessica, Rebecca, and a lady who could only be Fanny, the Duke of Westfall’s other daughter, given her similar features. All had crystal glasses in their hands, rather than tea.
“Here she is!” Jessica cried. “I told you she was perfect for him, didn’t I?”
She dipped them all a curtsy, and they all dipped back.
Then the ladies rushed over and fussed around her.
A glass was pushed into her hand, and her marriage was toasted as she was led to a round table surrounded by chairs.
A deck of cards lie in the center, along with a little silver tray of sweets and two bottles.
“You must try these,” Jessica whispered, popping one into her mouth.
Amelia declined.
“We all knew it would take an extraordinary woman for our brother to make a second marriage,” Rebecca confessed. “And here she is. He made the perfect choice this time, and I’m so relieved he chose you, Amelia.”
“Welcome to the family,” Fanny said, smiling widely. “You must think it odd we drink before breakfast.”
“A little.”
“In my case, I have not slept since I left London. It is a fleeting visit, and the duchess agreed we could celebrate before I must leave again. I hoped to speak to you both and extend my congratulations.”
“But we are all still cross with Milo for not inviting us to the wedding,” Jessica announced, laughing. “We mean to ring a peal over his head about it quite soon.”
“Yes, we are,” Rebecca said with a dark scowl. “Quite rude not to have at least one of us present.”
She glanced at the duchess, unsure of her welcome again.
“You are among family, my dear,” the duchess said. “What an ordeal these past few days have been for you. Cook has made us some wonderful pastries to lift your spirits.”
“And Papa has opened the wine cellar for us, as well, and offered his best vintages. Our special tea,” Fanny added, with a wicked laugh. “He does not do that for just anyone. He must like you very much.”
Amelia shook her head, confused. After the shock of learning her husband had left her, Amelia thought their jovial mood and the celebration of her marriage was poorly timed. Chatham could very well have gone to London to have the marriage annulled, for all she knew. But she did not say that aloud.
“Drink,” Fanny urged. “I’m sure my brother is entirely at fault for whatever happened last night.”