Chapter Twenty-Two
Dear Lady Amelia,
The greatest joys in life often sprout from the deepest pains.
Yours truly,
Mrs. Dove-Lyon
The collective gasp could have been heard through England. Perhaps even onto the continent. In fact, Amelia wasn’t convinced that a large vessel halfway across the Atlantic wouldn’t have heard it.
To say that she was shocked was beyond an understatement.
Never in her life had she expected to hear such news.
Benedict was an upstanding duke. A peer of the realm.
An honored and esteemed gentleman. He was not the kind of man to have scandalous secrets.
Like having an ex-wife. Divorce was not common.
Not accepted at all among the ton. How had this happened?
How had she not known? How had she missed all the clues?
And worst of all, how had she opened herself up to trust him?
Of all the people, with all the secrets, she had to choose him.
“You have a wife?” Only her mouth moved. The rest of her body was frozen. Like icicles hanging from a rooftop in the middle of winter. And she felt just as fragile. That at any moment she might tumble to the ground and shatter.
“Had.”
“What?”
“I had a wife. She’s my ex-wife. We’re divorced.” The short statements shot out of his mouth like giant cannonballs. Each phrase ammunition that landed and, without ample warning, exploded in front of her.
“That’s unheard of.”
“Thank God for small favors,” he mumbled.
“Benedict?” She felt tears burning the corners of her eyes. She thought she knew this man and now he had an ex-wife. What did she truly know about him at all? And why wasn’t his divorce common knowledge? She needed to know.
“I thought I was in love—”
Her throat clenched at his confession. She didn’t want to know anymore. It was too painful.
“We eloped.”
Her heart was being shredded as he spoke. Each word harder to take than the last. She didn’t want to give him any credit in the moment, but she couldn’t help respect how his gaze hadn’t wavered. He was peering directly at her, into her heart. Which only made this worse.
“No one knew we were married. Thankfully. And within a week—during what should have been our honeymoon—we were divorced.”
“How did no one know about this?”
“I paid large sums of money to the few people involved. And of course Susannah had her own reasons to keep the secrets.”
Susannah. His former lover had a name. She hated it. Hated everything about this story.
“Why?” It was a single word but it represented the deluge of questions threatening to drown her.
Why did he think he was in love with her, his ex-wife?
Why did they elope? Why did they divorce?
Why hadn’t he told her any of this? Why had Mrs. Dove-Lyon chosen him?
Why had he chosen her? Why was this happening to her?
But then she knew.
This was always how it went.
There was no such thing as pure joy with no strings attached. After the joy always came the pain.
Her heart plummeted to the ground. Seeping down into the soil. Lost forever.
This was by far the worst pain she had ever known. There was no returning from this.
“Oh my God,” Damien’s voice exploded into the silence. “She’s here.”
Amelia would have braced herself if she could remember how to do that, but thankfully Arabella wrapped an arm around her waist.
Like a jab, she whispered harsh words into her ear. “Stand up, Amelia. Stand up tall. She is his past. You are his future. Do not waver.”
Then just as quickly as she had offered support, she withdrew her arm. And Amelia knew why. She needed to stand on her own. Because she could.
That’s all there was to this.
Looking down, she confirmed it. She still had two feet. Her own two feet.
So she rolled her shoulders back, straightened her spine, and stood tall.
The approaching carriage lurched to a stop and one of the footmen opened the door.
A beautiful blonde woman descended. As in, she floated down. With poise. Grace. Like a cloud.
Benedict stepped in front of Amelia.
“What are you doing here, Susannah?”
“I needed to speak with you.”
“And you thought this was the place to do that?” His voice was steady, if not resentful.
“It’s urgent.”
“You could have waited.”
“I could not have waited.”
“Then I ask again. Why are you here?”
The woman of grace looked at the bystanders, including Amelia. “May we talk in private?”
“No.”
Silence awkwardly encapsulated them.
“No?”
“I don’t want to be near you, let alone in a private setting with you.”
“I really think—”
“Whatever you have to say you can say here.”
The words dropped like a devastating explosive. A pyrotechnic but without the giddiness. Loud. Shocking. Bright. Blinding.
“Your son needs you.”