Chapter Sixteen
As Amelie slipped from his lap, he saw her cheeks turn pink when she realised how exposed she was. In the confined space of the carriage her clothes had not been flung far, but he had divested her of everything.
A gentleman would have turned away as she got dressed to give her some privacy, but he could not tear his eyes off her. She was so beautiful, so perfect, he already wanted to ravish her again.
There was more than mere physical attraction, though. He felt real affection for Amelie. He wanted her to be happy. When he had seen her anguish at the terrible conditions her little family was living in, he had needed to step in—for the good of the children, but also for Amelie’s happiness.
It had been a long time since he’d had anyone to care about.
Ever since Catherine’s death he had been alone.
Of course, he spoke to people—old friends at his club in Mayfair, the other men who made up the dedicated group in the House of Lords, and more recently the professors and fellows at Peterhouse, but these connections were all superficial.
He had not allowed anyone close since losing Catherine, yet somehow Amelie had managed to sneak through his defences.
He sighed. He should feel regret. He had promised himself he would not compromise Amelie, that the kiss they had shared a week earlier would be the only mistake he made, yet he had been powerless to resist her. Even now, with his sense returning, he could not bring himself to regret their intimacy.
‘Let me help,’ he said as she struggled to lift her dress back over her head without her arms getting caught up. It really was an ugly dress, even for a servant. They were expected to wear muted colours, but there were practical, plain dresses and then there was this monstrosity.
After Amelie was dressed and she had re-pinned her hair into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, she gave him an assessing look.
‘I did not plan that to happen,’ she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully before uttering them.
‘Nor I.’
Her eyes searched his face and he could tell she was asking herself the same question that was vying for attention in his own mind: what came next?
They had three more months of one another’s company in close quarters, and then Amelie would still be in his service even when they returned to London.
It would be torture, pretending nothing had happened between them—passing her in the hallway and ignoring her even when his mind and body called out for the intimacy they had shared.
‘I do not regret it,’ she said softly. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but I had this feeling that it was inevitable. That we were hurtling towards this moment, powerless to stop it.’
‘I didn’t want to stop it.’ That was the truth. He could talk about noble intentions all he liked, but when Amelie had looked at him with heat in her eyes he had not cared enough about her reputation or his position of power. All he had wanted was her.
‘Me neither.’ She swallowed hard, her eyes meeting his. ‘What do we do now?’
‘That rather depends on you.’
She looked at him, puzzled. ‘I thought it rather depended on you.’
He sighed. They were both tip-toeing around their feelings, neither wanting to be the one to come out and say how they really felt, but that way lay disaster and dissatisfaction.
‘I cannot marry you, Amelie,’ he said, as gently as possible. He thought of his duty, his responsibilities.
‘I know. I never expected it.’
‘But my desire for you has not abated. Nor has my affection.’ It was more honest than he thought he could be.
Will had never been adept at expressing his feelings, preferring to keep things inside where they could not cause him harm, but he recognised the difficult position Amelie was in and felt she deserved to know exactly how he felt.
‘If there were no consequences to our actions, no lasting damage caused, then I would suggest we enjoy our summer together. I can think of nothing more pleasurable than sharing my life in Grantchester with you.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Her tone was measured, calm, and Will realised this was one of the things he admired about her. Amelie had lived through so much these last couple of years, yet she was still so reasonable.
‘Be my mistress for these few months. Share my bed. We can take walks along the river, enjoy one another’s company.’
‘And at the end of the three months, when we return to London?’
He exhaled. That part was unclear in his mind. All he could think of was not losing her yet. He wanted that closeness, and their secluded life in Grantchester meant it could be within their reach for three months at least.
‘I will bend to whatever solution you think best. I will have to start finalising the arrangements for my marriage,’ he said, needing to make it clear that, although he cared for her, there could be no future for them past the next three months.
He did not want her to agree to a liaison because she thought it would lead to something more permanent.
If she decided it would be too difficult to continue their affair whilst they were in Grantchester, he would step back and do his best to suppress his desires.
What he didn’t want to do was deceive her into a relationship that could not last past the summer.
‘You would not want me in your household when you married.’
Even though he had not known her four weeks, the idea of a life without Amelie was painful to think about, but she was probably right. He would marry because it was his duty, but he did not plan to disrespect his wife by keeping a mistress under their roof.
‘I could help you secure a position in a good household—perhaps as a housekeeper or cook. Something that would allow you to earn enough to support your family.’
Amelie nodded. It would be a decent solution, even if it felt painfully practical to think about the end of their affair before it had even begun. Will liked to be in control, to have all the possible loose threads tied up and accounted for.
‘So you suggest we enjoy an illicit affair whilst we are in Grantchester and then at the end of the three months we go our separate ways?’
He nodded, wondering if it sounded too emotionless, too much like a business transaction.
He wanted Amelie back in his arms, but he did not want to get her there with deception.
No doubt if he whispered poisoned promises he did not intend to keep she would come to him without hesitation, but he did not want to win her with lies.
If she agreed to his proposition, he needed to know she would go in with her eyes open.
‘I acknowledge that it is a lot easier for me to move on to the next stage of my life—that is a product of my privilege—but I think we can be completely discreet with this, Amelie. We live a secluded life in Grantchester; no one needs to know anything has happened between us. Then when we return to London you will move on to a position that is more suited to your skills as a housekeeper or cook. No one would be surprised.’
‘What if I fall pregnant?’
He swallowed, momentarily distracted by the thought of a child with Amelie: a little boy or girl with her honey-coloured hair and green-grey eyes. He quickly pushed the thought away.
‘We shall take steps to try to prevent that from happening.’
‘There would still be a chance.’
‘If you fell pregnant I would provide for you and our child.’
She nodded, looking down at her hands. She was chewing on her lip, her eyes clouded and her expression distant.
‘It is a lot to think about,’ he said softly. He did not want to rush her. More than anything, he wanted her to agree, but he would not put any pressure on her. ‘You do not need to decide just now.’
‘Am I a fool to be considering it?’ she said eventually. ‘Everything I was taught as a young woman focussed around the importance of safeguarding one’s virtue.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I have not fulfilled my obligations in that area, but as yet no one knows.’
‘And no one will ever know. I will never tell a soul, Amelie. I do not want to hurt you.’
She reached forward and took his hand, running her fingers over the skin below his knuckles.
‘I know. There is this misconception that the higher someone ranks in the peerage, the more self-centred, yet you are a duke and you are more generous than all the men I have known in the minor gentry. You are a good man.’
She fell silent, still holding his hand, her brow furrowed as she worked through in her mind the arguments for and against.
Amelie felt torn. Part of her wanted to shout out her acceptance of Will’s proposal and throw herself into his arms, but she had to be cautious.
She had compromised herself, thrown away her virtue, although it was hard to regret their moment of intimacy.
She was falling for Will and after all the unhappiness of the last couple of years she thought she deserved at least a little something for herself.
What worried her was where her feelings would stop.
She didn’t like to examine too closely what it was she felt for the duke just now in case it scared her too much.
There was certainly desire, a physical attraction, but alongside that was the blossoming of something more.
His actions over the last couple of days had shown her his kindness and patience, and Amelie was worried the feeling that was building inside her might actually be love.
Love would be a disaster. In his straightforward way, Will had already made it clear that after the next three months there could be nothing more between them.
His first thought was to his duty, and his duty was to marry someone suitable.
The disgraced daughter of a man rotting in debtor’s prison was hardly a suitable wife for a duke.
She would have to step quietly aside and watch him marry someone else.
Even now the idea made her feel desperate.
The thought of having to say goodbye to Will, never seeing him again, was painful to the extreme.
How much worse would it be after three more months?
Yet what was the alternative—to pretend this moment of intimacy had never happened, to act distant for the next three months as though she felt nothing for him other than the mild respect every servant should feel for their employer?
It would be impossible. Amelie did not know what would be worse—pushing him away now or being pushed away in three months.
Closing her eyes, she wondered what her mother would have done.
Her mother had been sure of her opinions on every subject and would certainly have had something to say about Amelie’s current predicament.
She’d believed deeply in true love, often telling Amelie stories of tragic lovers who had been cruelly separated only to fight with everything they had to be together.
On the other hand her mother, Gisele Dubois, had been an aristocrat, regal in bearing and sure of her own worth.
Amelie was not sure if her mother would have approved of her daughter allowing herself to settle for so little.
The thoughts were unhelpful. Amelie’s mother had faced her own challenges—fleeing the troubles in France, losing so many of her family to the guillotine or the terrible conditions of the French prisons, but she had not lived Amelie’s life. Only Amelie could make the decision.
She glanced up to see Will watching her carefully. Even now he was trying to be as fair as possible to her. It was clear what he wanted, but he was being very cautious, not pressing her for an answer, not trying to influence her decision. It made her want him even more.
The idea of walking arm in arm by the river, sitting and eating meals together, sharing his hopes and dreams for the book he was writing was exactly what she wanted.
If he had offered only the physical side to the relationship, it would have been hard to resist, but not as alluring as this closeness, this companionship, alongside the intense desire they both felt.
She would have to be careful to ensure this liaison did not develop into anything too deep on her part.
To enjoy the intimacy, the physical desire, even the companionship, would be acceptable, as long as she guarded her heart from feeling anything more.
She would have to be careful not to fall for Will, but she was sensible and self-aware; surely she could trust herself to safeguard against deeper feelings?
‘I have a few conditions,’ she said, looking up at him and seeing the relief spread across his face.
‘Go ahead.’
‘We always behave respectably in public. There are eyes everywhere and everyone is connected. It may seem like Grantchester is far removed from London society, but there will be someone’s second cousin’s neighbour living just down the road…’
‘Agreed. I will keep my hands to myself in public. Anything else?’
‘You let me decide what happens at the end and you respect my decision.’
‘Of course. I will not interfere with your wishes. Anything else?’
She shook her head.
‘I have a condition of my own,’ he said, a smile on his lips.
‘Oh?’
‘You let me buy you a new dress.’
Amelie looked down at her grey, shapeless garment with mock surprise. ‘Don’t you like this dress? I would never have guessed.’
‘It draws attention to you for all the wrong reasons. If we are out walking together, then people will look and wonder why you are wearing such a monstrosity. It will be our undoing.’
‘This dress will be our undoing?’
He nodded.
She inched closer.
‘Not that you will struggle to keep your hands from me in public?’
‘I am restraint in human form.’
‘Or that you might stare at my lips when you are meant to be passing the time of day with one of our neighbours?’
His eyes flicked down to her lips and remained there for a few seconds.
‘I have argued points of law in front of some of the most powerful people in the country. I am sure I can stop myself from staring at your lips for a few minutes.’
‘Or that you might be spotted naked in our garden when you cannot bear to wait the two minutes it would take to get to the bedroom before we made love?’
‘Luckily for me, our little garden is not overlooked at all. We could spend the whole day naked, making love, and no one would be any the wiser.’
He caught her wrist then, gently pulling her forward in her seat.
‘I worry you are going to be a great distraction, Amelie. How am I supposed to work when I know you are at home, waiting for me?’
‘Luckily I am invested in your book and I am not afraid to withhold certain…pleasures…until you have met your targets.’
‘That would be cruel.’
‘I think it would be kindness.’
Scooping her up, he lifted her into his lap and kissed her. Amelie felt such happiness, a sense of belonging that she hadn’t for a long time, and she wondered why she had even hesitated.