Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two days later, Amelia narrowed her eyes at Nicholas across the breakfast table at the Spencer country house.
He had been seated with Beatrice on one side and Mary-Ann on the other.
But there was something wrong in the way he smiled at her aunt, though Amelia could not put her finger on precisely what.
“Your Grace,” said Lady Nuffield, placing a light, creped hand on Amelia’s elbow. “You seem most distracted. Is everything alright?”
Amelia swallowed, returning her attention to her breakfast plate. “Of course, of course,” she assured the elderly woman, her aunt’s godmother. “Pray, tell me again about your palazzo outside Florence. I was only distracted a moment.”
The lady looked at her skeptically, likely thinking that everything they said about the new duchess and her madness was true.
Amelia was not concerned. Soon enough, her marriage to Nicholas would be annulled, even though her heart panged at the thought of leaving him.
Their presence at her uncle’s house party was an act of charity on his behalf.
The guests counted thirty in all. As breakfast ended, the bulk of them rose from the seats excitedly, departing to prepare for the hunting that afternoon. The gentlemen filed out of the room in a pack led by her uncle. Nicholas, following them, separated from the herd a moment and approached her.
“I hope Beatrice did not wear you out already,” Amelia joked half-heartedly. “I saw what I thought were silent pleas for help as she spoke to you.”
Nicholas smiled, and the expression was almost genuine. “Not at all. Your aunt is a gracious woman, and I should not have a bad word to say against her. There is talk of a hunt in Bagley Woods. I have agreed to join the men.”
“As you should,” she said emphatically. “Do not let me stop you. I shall be perfectly fine here on my own.”
She glanced around the breakfast room—a repurposed solar with tall glass windows and plants in every corner. Her aunt had disappeared, but Mary-Ann remained speaking to the pretty young woman beside her, sending interested glances at Amelia and Nicholas.
Amelia, suddenly possessive, placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Really,” she stressed, “I hope you enjoy yourself.”
“We will meet again tonight,” he replied, nodding.
He lingered a moment, seeming like he wanted to say something, before hastening through the doors after the men.
It took all of ten seconds before Mary-Ann appeared beside Amelia, occupying the chair Lady Nuffield had left vacant. Amelia tore into her brioche, ripping it into small pieces she had no intention of eating.
“I shall be frank with you, Amelia. I wagered Miss Bingley that you would arrive at Papa’s party all alone. What a surprise to find His Grace with you.”
“Is it a surprise? We are man and wife.”
“Yes, but…”
Mary-Ann paused as the last ladies exited the room, Miss Bingley, her friend, included. The air around Mary-Ann smelled strongly of patchouli, suppressing Amelia’s appetite once and for all.
“I figured he would have more important matters to attend than our little house party,” her cousin continued. “I am glad to be proven wrong. Mama performed a thorough investigation while seated beside him, I must say.”
“And what did she learn?” Amelia asked, maintaining her composure.
“Shockingly little, actually. He plays his cards close to his chest where you are concerned. His Grace mentioned one or two things about that little foundling house of yours. Said you were waiting for some play or another before you could depart on a bridal tour.” She laughed, her coral earrings swaying as she shook her head.
“You are a duchess, for heaven’s sake, Amelia!
Those orphans cannot take priority over your new role. ”
Amelia ground a piece of brioche into crumbs between her fingers, wiping them on the serviette on her lap.
“You do not know the first thing about my new role,” she said bitterly. “And you know even less about Nicholas and me. I would encourage you to keep your opinions to yourself from now on, cousin.”
“My, my,” Mary-Ann gasped, reeling back in mock horror. “This marriage has certainly made you bold. I hear a man’s touch will do that to a woman. And it seems to me the Duke would be practiced in that regard—highly influential on an innocent mind and body, like your own.”
There was no point fighting the blush that rose to Amelia’s face, a mix of anger and arousal. Her whole body grew hot with embarrassment.
“I am only teasing you, darling cousin.” Mary-Ann patted Amelia’s hand on her lap, leaning in close.
“And why should I not? When I discovered you at the Bodleian ball in His Grace’s arms, I was certain I would be rid of you for good.
I told myself the scandal would ruin you, and Papa would finally send you elsewhere.
I do love you, Amelia. But you must agree with me that your presence in our lives has made things more difficult than they would have been otherwise. ”
Amelia hiccupped, turning so Mary-Ann would not see.
She had suspected Mary-Ann was jealous of the attention afforded to Amelia by her parents.
And Amelia had always felt guilty. But she thought there had been an unspoken agreement between them—that, as a family, they stood beside one another no matter what.
“This is a much better outcome for you, I think. It did not even cross my mind that the Duke should genuinely wish to marry you when he called at the house that day.” Mary-Ann rose from her seat, taking a wedge of pear from a serving dish and taking a bite.
“So now you will do us all a kindness and not make a mess of things. Does that sound reasonable to you, dear one?”
Patting her on the shoulder pitifully, Mary-Ann skipped out of the room.
Pushing away her plate, Amelia stared angrily at the door, troubled most of all by Mary-Ann’s assumption that intimacy with Nicholas had made Amelia so courageous.
Troubled, because that was not the case.
And because a part of her wished that it were so.
“You should have seen the size of the beast!” Baron Spencer crowed, extending his arms wide, eyes glittering with excitement. “A monstrous thing. Antlers the size of tree trunks, and coal-black eyes that pierced right through a man’s soul.”
Nicholas smiled tepidly at Spencer’s display, standing close to Amelia in the drawing room. The guests had assembled that evening for pre-dinner drinks, giving the men enough time to boast their victories or bemoan their losses of the afternoon spent hunting in Bagley Woods.
He found his attention waxing and waning, thoughts elsewhere. He looked down at Amelia, who cringed as her uncle described the shot that had taken the stag down.
A delicate soul, he thought, edging so close to his wife, he could feel the ruffles of her skirt press against his thigh. She must be protected from all gruesome truths concerning the hunt… concerning me.
He downed the last of his lemon-flavored punch and shivered, thankful that Samuel had not been invited to the party.
Talk among their group turned to the planned activities for the rest of the house party. The cousin, Mary-Ann, took up the pianoforte and played a country song. Amelia began tapping her foot to the music.
“It occurs to me I have yet to hear you sing,” he said, causing her to look up at him. They turned from the group, creating a bubble of privacy. “Do you know this one?” he asked.
“It is The Last Rose of Summer,” she answered wistfully. “One of Aunt Beatrice’s favorites. It was the first song I ever learned to play on the pianoforte. It is easy to sing…”
“If you are trying to tempt me into singing a duet with you, I must respectfully decline. My talents are many, but singing is not among them.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a sapphire earring that matched the color of her gown.
“And why is that?” He laughed easily, taking her empty glass and his, and setting them on the mantle nearby. “If you believe I have no flaws—”
“I know you better than that.” Her eyes softened momentarily, until she turned them on the room. “But you are an exceedingly impressive gentleman. And every lady here knows it.”
Directed to look around them, Nicholas caught sight of a group of young ladies converging around Mary-Ann at the pianoforte. They gawked openly at Amelia and Nicholas, poorly hiding their envious expressions behind their patterned fans.
“I find it more likely that they are jealous of you,” he suggested. “You look lovely tonight... The most splendid woman present by far....”
Amelia visibly started, her cheeks turning pink. Nicholas could not recall whether he had ever openly complimented her before. But she must have known how beautiful he found her. How much he admired her.
How much he cared.
“You are obliged to say that as my husband,” she protested weakly.
“Is that so?” This was dangerous territory, but he could not stop himself. “I remember no such clause included in our marriage contract. And I would have remembered such a thing. We were quite thorough in our preparations.”
Her blush spread to her bosom, and he had to look away, his trousers growing tight. Yes, she must have known the effect she had on him, looking at him like that, speaking to him in that low, inviting voice.
“Perhaps not thorough enough,” she murmured, swaying unconsciously toward him. Her hand brushed against his thigh—on purpose?
Nicholas said a prayer and glanced heavenward, knowing he should not entertain their conversation a moment longer. And yet…
“Do tell me what we missed,” he whispered.
“A… stipulation, which prohibited you from making me feel so…” She stopped herself, sucked in a shaky breath. “From making me want to…”
She scrunched her nose and looked away. Nicholas felt he could read her mind and laughed. Surely, she was not suggesting what he thought she was? That they should have included a clause that forbade them from longing for one another?
A wicked thought crossed his mind then. He glanced at the door, wondering whether she would follow if he asked her to, whether he had read her intentions correctly. He imagined taking her somewhere private, having her explain in lurid detail the things they should have been forbidden from wanting.
Daring her to let him show her why there was nothing to fear.
“If you mean to…” he began, but a sudden change in Amelia’s expression put a quick end to his suggestion.
She took a step back, colliding with an older gentleman behind her. Nicholas turned to see what had frightened her.
And a switch flipped within him, overwhelmed by a hot surge of anger.
“Do not,” Amelia warned, grabbing his arm. “Nicholas, please…”