Chapter Twenty-Three
Amelie sat with her feet dangling off the jetty, enjoying the sensation of the water flowing over her toes.
This perfect little spot was a few miles upstream from Grantchester, on the way to nowhere in particular.
It was secluded and, because there were no villages close by, no one ever walked down the overgrown path to the river.
She had needed privacy these last couple of days.
Amelie was not sure if she had imagined the curious stares or disapproving glances she had received when out running errands in Grantchester, but she did not wish to add to the speculation surrounding Will and her.
It was why she had packed herself a small picnic for breakfast, left Will a note telling him that she needed some time on her own and headed out shortly after dawn.
As was his character, he had been understanding these last few days, but she had seen the impatience in his eyes, felt his desire to get everything sorted once and for all.
For him things had returned to at least the semblance of normality.
He still rode into Cambridge each day and worked on his book in the Peterhouse library, and he still came home to the cottage of an evening to share a meal with Amelie.
Amelie returned to her own bed at night, missing his body next to hers.
This morning, as she’d lain lonely in her bed, she had listened to the birds singing the dawn chorus and decided today must be the day she made a decision.
Prolonging the uncertainty was not doing either of them any good.
So she had packed her breakfast, pulled on her boots and headed to the secluded spot by the river shortly after sunrise.
Now she was here, she didn’t know where to begin.
She was still hurting, feeling the sting of the women’s words in the marketplace.
They had called her a working girl, a prostitute, and that had hurt, perhaps because of the ring of truth to it.
Will had not paid her for their intimacy, but she had benefited from their closeness.
For these past few weeks her family had experienced a much better way of life, tucked away in the outskirts of London with Mrs Hampton.
Will was paying his old nanny. Amelie was not sure how much she was charging but it would be more than Amelie could afford.
She resolutely pushed the thought away. Will cared for her and paying Mrs Hampton was a gesture of his affection, just like buying her the dresses had been.
There was nothing transactional about their relationship.
His wealth had deterred her from giving in to the affection she felt, not encouraged her.
This was the problem she had experienced the last few days.
Her mind was too full, a jumble of thoughts that pulled her in every direction and stopped her from thinking clearly.
With great effort she paused, focussing on the sensation of the water trickling over her toes and the warmth of the early-morning sun on her face.
For a few minutes she sat there, pushing away all conscious thought, until she felt calmness descend over her.
Once she was a little more in control, she considered the dilemma.
Her options were limited. Either she accepted Will’s offer to become his mistress or she declined it.
If she accepted, everything would be taken care of and she would be whisked along and settled in some discreet house somewhere.
If she declined, she would be on her own.
Of course, Will would offer to help, but really she would need to make her own choices.
She loved him; that much was certain. She had not thought herself capable of it after the betrayals and shame of her past, after the years of holding herself apart from everyone, keeping her heart carefully shuttered.
Will had undone her defences piece by piece, not through grand gestures but by simple, steady kindness, by making her feel seen, cherished and safe.
But was love enough?
It seemed a ridiculous question when a few weeks earlier she had been convinced she never wanted a relationship, never wanted to welcome someone into her life, but Will had been the one to change that. Now she wanted a love that was wholesome and complete, not something that had to be hidden.
She thought of the horror she’d felt in the marketplace in Cambridge when she’d heard her name on the gossiping women’s lips.
Shame was a terrible emotion, and Amelie had felt hot and heavy with it.
It had been the same when her father had spiralled into debt.
She could remember people in the local village staring and pointing, whispering behind their hands.
If she became Will’s mistress that would be her life—tucked away in the shadows, a secret to be ashamed of, always afraid that someone would find out the truth of her circumstances.
No. She wanted more than that. She deserved more than that.
Will had shown her what love could be, but he had also shown her what she could not accept.
She longed for a future in the open, one in which she could walk proudly at a man’s side, not scurry into the shadows when the door opened.
She wanted her siblings to grow up free of gossip, unburdened by shame.
If love meant living as a secret, then it was not the life she would choose.
Even as she made her decision she felt a jolt of panic rip through her.
Telling Will she would not be his mistress after he married Lady Elizabeth meant their time together would be truly over.
It would only prolong the agony if she stayed any longer.
Once she told him her decision, she’d need to leave, to have a fresh start.
Unlike the last time, when she had fled her life in Kent, she would have to bury her shame and ask for help.
There was the offer from Miss Flint to assist her, and Amelie thought some of her old friends in Tenterden would be happy to help if she swallowed her pride and approached them.
The optimistic part of her wondered if he would realise that he loved her. He had never said the words, but then again neither had she, and she loved him with all her heart. Perhaps he would ask her to stay, not as his mistress but as his wife.
Even the thought made Amelie scoff. Will was kind, gentle and generous, but those traits could not overpower his sense of duty; that was the main thing that drove him.
Throughout all this, his plan had been unwavering, even when disaster had struck and their affair been uncovered.
He was still determined to write his book and then return to his normal life to fulfil his duty as a duke.
He had never lied to her, never promised her anything else, so she could not be angry—but it hurt all the same.
She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and let them flow freely down her cheeks. Now she had thought it through, she knew this was the right decision, but that did not mean it didn’t hurt.
Later today she would kiss Will for the last time and then tell him her decision.
A coach left from the centre of Cambridge for London early every Tuesday, which meant by tomorrow night she would be back with her brother and sisters, pressing on with her new life.
The thought petrified her, but she believed it was for the best.
Will looked up from the half-empty cup of coffee in his hand when the door creaked open.
He had expected Amelie to stay out a while longer; he knew she had walked a fair distance to get away from the judging eyes of the village residents.
When she entered the room, she looked pale and her eyes were rimmed with red, as if she had been crying, but before he could enquire how she was feeling she bent down and kissed him long and deeply.
The kiss was tender, lingering, and for one blissful moment he believed it was her way of saying she had chosen him.
In those few seconds, he had planned their whole future, picturing happy days spent together.
Relief surged through him, warm and fierce.
The she drew back, he saw the pain in her eyes and he realised he had been mistaken.
Even before she spoke he felt his heart ripping in two.
‘I have made my decision, Will,’ she whispered.
Taking his time, he set down his coffee cup, wondering how he could delay this moment. It was impossible, but he would have done anything to postpone her rejection by even a few seconds.
‘What have you decided?’
Her lips trembled. She clutched her hands together to stop them shaking and then she gained control of herself, lifted her eyes and met his gaze.
‘I love you,’ she said, so quietly he wasn’t quite sure of her words until she repeated them.
‘I love you. You must know that by now. You’ve made me believe in love again, made me think of a future I had long since stopped imagining.
But I cannot live in shadows, not as your secret, not as a name people whisper with disapproval.
I have had enough scandal to last a lifetime.
Even now my father resides in the most notorious debtor’s prison in London and my name is on the lips of every gossip in Cambridgeshire.
I want more than that. I do not wish to be hidden away. ’
The words cut through him, causing physical pain like nothing he had ever experienced before. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to pretend she had not spoken, to kiss her until she forgot her decision.
He did not move, feeling the panic at losing her combine with the loneliness he had felt before they’d met. Yet he could not give her what she wanted. Amelie wanted love, but more than that she wanted a life that was not possible, not with him.
‘I cannot marry you, Amelie,’ he said.
‘I know. And I cannot live as your mistress.’
He reached out for her, desperate not to lose her, as if his touch could anchor her to him. She did not resist, did not pull away, but already he saw the distance in her eyes.
‘My duty…’
She flinched at the word and he paused, but there was no other way to say it.
‘My duty,’ he pressed on, even though he knew his words would hurt her, ‘Is to the title. To the generations that came before me and those that will come after me. I have to give them a duchess who can fulfil her role without restriction. Someone who can stand by my side an equal.’
She looked away then, tearing her hand from his, and he knew in that instant there was no taking back what he had said. Not only had he brushed away her declaration of love, he’d followed it by calling her unworthy.
‘And I have to give myself the chance to be the love of someone’s life. To have someone who will fight for me, no matter what. Someone who would give up everything in an instant for one more day with me.’ She drew herself up, her bearing regal but the expression on her face one of pure devastation.
‘If that is your choice, I will not hold you back.’ He could hear the lack of emotion in his tone. In truth, he was hurting more than he had ever hurt before, but he was not sure he would remain in control if he allowed the pain to show.
Amelie’s face crumpled and he went to reach out, to try to claw back his words and the cold way he’d delivered them. She flattened him with a hard stare, and held up a hand, unable to speak. Then she turned and left, her feet clattering on the stairs.
Will collapsed back into his chair, replaying his words over and over in his mind.
How could he have been so cruel? He wondered if it was the shock of her decision.
Although he had known she was conflicted, he’d thought eventually she would come round to the idea of being his mistress.
It was a neat solution, a marriage to a woman who would not make demands of him and Amelie there for the emotional connection.
His harsh words had been a result of the shock he’d felt at her rejection, but it was no excuse. He needed to apologise. He never wanted to hurt her.
Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to wallow in his pain.
It was all he deserved after how he had treated Amelie.
Disappointment coursed through him. Although it was a highly unconventional suggestion of Lady Elizabeth’s, Will had been warming to the idea.
The thought that he could do his duty, marry the woman who would be the perfect duchess in the eyes of society and still have Amelie, was intoxicating.
The benefits would all have been his, but he did not think it would have been completely disastrous for Amelie.
He thought of the wonderful summer they had spent together, the happy days strolling through the meadows, the contentment he had felt for the first time in his adult life.
For the first time since he had lost Catherine he had felt completely and utterly comfortable with someone.
Having Amelie as his mistress would have meant that could continue.
He would have been the perfect duke in the eyes of the world, but in private he would have someone who truly understood him.
Of course, he understood the decision. Amelie was the one who would have to live in secret, to wait for him whilst he conducted his duties with his wife on his arm until he could return to her, hidden away somewhere.
He had hoped he might be enough for her, despite the drawbacks, that the companionship and affection they’d shared would overcome her doubts.
Softly he scoffed to himself. He was asking her to risk everything without giving her any real reassurance. Of course she had declined. It didn’t mean it hurt any less.
Now he would give her some time to herself, and later he would apologise fully and talk to her again.
At the very least he needed to know what arrangements to make for her.
He thought of her kinsfolk in Mrs Hampton’s care, her belongings stashed in the small attic room in his London townhouse.
Their lives were intertwined and if she truly wanted to be rid of him it would take some unpicking.
As he finished his cup of coffee, Will wondered if he had made the wrong decision. Duty was important; that had been drummed into him from a young age. He believed it too. He was a mere caretaker of the title and family estates, and he could not put his own desires before the greater good.
Still, he felt uneasy about his decision, as if he was missing an important point. Perhaps it was the heartbreak, clouding things, but a nagging voice told him he was being supremely foolish.