Chapter Ten
Christiana stretched, finally alone in her enormous bedchambers.
Compared to her small room in her father’s house, this was positively monstrous—and more elegant than she could ever have imagined.
Not only did she have a huge four-poster bed, the silk hangings exceedingly fine, but she also had a writing desk, a beautiful winged armchair by the fire, and a window seat looking out across the gardens.
There was also a dressing table with the finest mirror Christiana had ever seen.
And, separate from that, was a private sitting room and a dressing room that adjoined the duke’s suite.
She was a duchess.
That fact hadn’t fully sunk in until dinner, when no fewer than two footmen and the butler had served them dinner. Even the morning room, in which they ate as a family, had been grander than her father’s dining room.
This house, and everything in it, was now her domain.
She needed time to acclimatize herself to her new role.
Time to acquire gowns that fit her station.
According to the mirror, she more resembled a governess than a duchess.
Her hair frizzed helplessly around her head, and her glasses perched sternly on her nose.
Although her gown had once belonged to her socialite mother, it was hopelessly out of fashion and contrived to look dowdy on her—truly an impressive feat.
Slowly, she sank onto the enormous bed, feeling as though the world were tumbling out of control around her. Marrying Hugh hadn’t been the wrong decision—she had made the best of a bad lot—but none of this felt as though it could be real.
Over dinner, he had agreed to take her riding and show her the estate. She could even have one of his geldings—if she could ride it safely. The thought made her want to break into hysterical laughter.
When she had been younger, no one had prevented her from riding the wildest of her father’s horses. Yet here Hugh was, showing more concern for her well-being than her father ever had, all without restricting her freedom.
This was an entirely new world. One she would have to get used to.
A knock came at the door, followed by a blonde head. Amelia sidled into the room, looking very pretty and faintly apologetic.
“Good evening,” she said, hands tucked awkwardly behind her back. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“Not at all. What is it?”
“I came to speak to you about Hugh.” She stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind her and glancing around with a line between her brows. Christiana realized belatedly that this had probably been the former duchess’s suite before the fire.
Amelia’s mother.
And now Christiana occupied it. Hugh, presumably, had taken the former duke’s suite as his own. She wondered how he felt about that.
Amelia made no comment about it, perching on the edge of the bed beside Christiana. “Hugh told me the reason behind your marriage.”
“That it’s a marriage of convenience, you mean?”
“That, and his reason for marrying.” She sighed. “For my sake.”
“You wish he hadn’t?”
“I have no objection to you,” she said hurriedly. “It’s just… I had wished he would choose a wife out of affection, not any obligation to me.”
Christiana frowned at the younger girl—though really she was not so very young. Old enough to have a definitive opinion about her brother’s actions. “He cares for you a great deal.”
To her surprise, Amelia pulled a face. “He does. Which is excessively nice, and of course I care for him a great deal too, but why go to all these lengths for my sake when I won’t be around for very much longer?
He ought to have sought a love match. That’s what I intend to do.
Once I find a gentleman who best suits me—a duke or the son of one, I expect—then I will arrange an introduction and we will fall in love.
Only then will we marry.” Amelia sat up again and looked at Christiana. “Why didn’t you do that?”
“I—” Christiana coughed, abruptly self-conscious. It was all very well for this fairy of a girl to discuss her own prospects, but Christiana did not have even a glimmer of her natural charm or beauty. “I don’t think your brother has any thought of love on his mind, Lady Amelia.”
“Oh, call me Amelia. Or Lia, as Hugh does. You’re one of the family now, after all.
” Amelia reached out and straightened Christiana’s glasses.
“My brother is…” She frowned, looking away as she searched for the right words.
“My brother is a stubborn man,” she said eventually.
“He cares for me, of course, and he feels he has a duty toward this house, but I think he believes he needs to care for nothing else.”
That matched Christiana’s impression of the duke: kind but distant. A man who did not commit to affection.
“He sees you as another duty,” Amelia said. “I imagine he thinks himself incapable of love—but he is not, and if you were just to prove that he is lovable, then—”
Christiana held up a hand. “Are you asking me to fall in love with my husband?”
“Of course,” Amelia said, as if this were an easy request made at no expense to Christiana’s health or dignity.
“I have the greatest respect for your brother, but what assurance do you have that either of us will grow to love the other?”
“Because you are married now.” Amelia beamed. “Love works that way.”
Christiana could say with authority that love did not work that way. After all, for much of her childhood—perhaps even now, in a way—she had loved her father, and he had returned her affection with coldness and autocratic dictates.
“I know this is a great deal to ask you,” Amelia hurried to say, as though sensing Christiana’s immediate rejection of the idea. “And I know it may not happen immediately. All I’m saying is perhaps it would not be so bad if you came to love one another in time.”
“I can hardly guarantee such a thing.”
“No, but you could help it along. You know, by seducing him.” Amelia waved a hand, ignoring Christiana’s choked inhale. “I’m sure that would help things along. And you are fortunate, you know. Hugh is the obvious choice for any self-respecting woman to fall in love with.”
Christiana decided, for her own sanity, that she would ignore the entire subject of seduction. “You mean to say he is my only choice to fall in love with.”
“And he is the best man to have ever lived,” Amelia said, raising a decisive finger. “You should have no trouble falling in love with him.”
Christiana rubbed her forehead, unsure how to explain to this optimistic, happy-go-lucky lady that love did not simply happen because one was inclined for it to.
And as good as the duke may have been, there was only limited time before they intended to live their separate lives.
The best she, or anyone, could hope for was comfort.
And truly, she had no wish for anything more, not even to appease Amelia.