Chapter 13 #3
“Oh, he was terrible. I’ve never seen him that way,” Jessica whispered.
“I have,” Rebecca replied, a look of distaste crossing her face.
“I have too, unfortunately,” Fanny agreed, but they said no more. “He will apologize when he comes to his senses.”
Amelia glanced around the table, her cheeks flaming. They all knew. They knew Milo had left her behind.
She started to rise, but the duchess was suddenly behind her, pushing her back down into a chair.
She held tight to Amelia’s shoulders. “We ladies like to get together from time to time to discuss our imperfect spouses and their foolish beliefs that they are always right,” the duchess said, then moved to sit again.
“We gather to complain about them and offer each other any advice or support we need.”
Amelia shook her head. “There’s no advice for this.”
“Oh, I’m sure there could be.” Fanny smiled. “Our brother is—and always has been—the most stubborn of creatures. The most serious.”
“The most impossible,” Jessica complained.
“He can be charming,” Amelia said, rising to his defense.
The duchess hummed. “Much like his father in that regard. It’s effortless how they can disarm a lady.”
“When he does smile—which, let’s face it, has been most infrequent since she died—he is almost frightening in his intensity,” Rebecca accused.
“He is always handsome,” Amelia argued.
Fanny drawled, “Well, he’s not had that much to be happy about with her goings on.”
As the family dissected her husband’s first failed marriage, his character flaws, the constriction around Amelia’s heart eased a little.
His behavior seemed to them nothing short of the usual.
And the more they shared, it all started to make an awful sort of sense.
He would think the worst of her, or any woman, after his first wife’s antics.
Not that anyone believed he should be allowed to continue that way.
She sipped her wine, listened as they counseled patience, then the subject turned to their own husbands.
“Gideon has taken to waking in the dead of night, and I found him sitting up with our child in his arms again yesterday. I’m feeling terribly neglected. I miss waking up in his arms.”
Rebecca complained that her husband, Lord Rafferty, was always underfoot—and hinted that the man was obsessed with touching her. Amelia found that endearing rather than troubling in a marriage, though.
And Fanny… Fanny confessed that married life the second time suited her very well. Perhaps better than the first, as her husband was an energetic and inventive lover.
The duchess presided over all their chatter, a serene smile on her face.
“And what of you, Your Grace?” Jessica asked. “What has Father done to irritate you lately?”
“Aside from this nonsense with your brother’s marriage.” The duchess set her glass down. “Your father wishes me to learn to swim before next winter.”
Jessica reached across the table for her hand and squeezed it. “Oh, dear. Not skating again”
“What’s wrong with ice skating?” Amelia asked. It was one of the few things she’d enjoyed every winter.
The duchess winced. “Before His Grace and I married, I almost drowned falling through the ice on the lake here.”
“Oh!”
“I was extremely lucky. It was shallow, but it gave us quite the scare. He couldn’t get me back on the ice due to my pregnancy.
And although I expressed an interest in going with him again, I wish I had not.
But now he’s sensed my hesitation and has come up with the bright idea that I need to learn to swim in the lake first—just in case I should ever fall in a spot where the bottom is above my head. ”
“That sounds sensible,” Amelia murmured.
“For heaven’s sake. I’m much too old for learning to swim now.”
“You’re not that old,” Jessica cried, but her sisters laughed. “Papa thinks it will make you both happy. You were doing well on the ice until suddenly you were not.”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I do admit to being worried about skating now. There’s Charles to consider, but I… I don’t want to disappoint Nicolas.”
Amelia nodded. She felt the same when it came to Chatham. But it was difficult when he kept so many barriers between them. Of course, that was to be expected in a marriage like theirs.
Only… Amelia did not think she wanted things to be that way anymore. She wanted to be closer to her husband, and to be trusted. To be his confidant, friend, and lover. As close as two people in a marriage could possibly get, perhaps, without actually being in love.
She was bound to him now. Her life was inexplicably linked to Chatham, his family, and the ducal estate. Only death would separate them, and she did not want that day to come too soon.
She glanced out the window, wondering where her husband had gone, and if and when he would remember he had a wife to return to.
Her glass was refilled—not that she remembered draining it—and as the wine flowed through the morning and they laughed together, she realized something dreadfully, dreadfully sad.
One day, she might care too deeply for her husband.
And yet, that had never been part of her plan.