CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
“Lord Percival,” Amelia spoke up, stepping forward. “I do believe you have had enough wine.”
“On the contrary, I believe I have not had enough—not when I consider the man I must claim as a cousin.”
Amelia stiffened as the murmurs around the room picked up, plucking and pulling the story apart.
“This is the man you have tried to humiliate in public several times, is it not? You say His Grace is jealous but what of you? Is this what your spectacle is about? This idle gossip, created from jealousy? It is a terrible thing to act out of, Lord Percival.”
“Jealousy!” Percival cried out, laughing aloud. “I am not jealous of a beast.” His lip curled in disgust as he looked Graham up and down, shaking his head.
“How dare you.” Amelia’s voice was quiet—not with shyness, or shame over her husband, but anger.
She kept it contained; she kept it controlled, as she used it to control the room.
“My husband is not a beast, and you should show His Grace more respect. All of you should show more respect.” She turned, encompassing the whole room in one, sweeping gaze.
Graham stood stock-still, stunned. “Have you no compassion? All you all do is speculate, and speculate! You take people’s lives, their pain, and turn into fodder for your own entertainment—until the tables are turned onto yourselves and you find out how much rumours truly hurt.
“I have borne the brunt of it, as has my husband.
You have all called our marriage a trap, that I am a fortune hunter, and it is not true yet I know my words alone cannot convince you of anything.
However, I have been the Duchess of Blackthorn for a while now, and throughout that time I have come to know of a man who has shown incredible strength in the face of rumour, speculation, and gossip.
I have seen a man endure balls and gossip when he knew that it would only bring further whispers about himself.
“His Grace agreed to this ball tonight when the man I had met and married initially would have immediately said no. Yet he knew it was what his family hoped for, what I myself hoped for as Duchess, and he found a way to please us both. He has put that above his own comfort, and he stands before you all, a man with a scarred past, and all you can ever do is gossip about him. He lives by honour and a rigid duty to his family—is that not what every mother wishes a man to do when it comes to being a desirable match for her daughter? I have begun to know a man who is smart, who enjoys reading, who rides horses as though he was born for it. I have known a man who has shouldered his own grief quietly so he could still be there for his family. He has endured the weight of the duel he was involved in—all of it has been alone because he was neglected by the society, he was supposed to be a part of, but he was shunned.”
Amelia paused, turning to Graham, and even though he adored her for the admiration she spoke of, he could not help but flush.
“I accept him,” Amelia said. “I accept the Duke of Blackthorn, scars and all, and I can only hope that I get to know him for the rest of my life. I can only hope that each new day brings something new to learn.”
Graham repressed a shudder with how intensely his wife gazed at him across the dance floor.
Despite a silent ballroom around them, filled with onlookers and gossipers, he did not feel as though they were in company.
They could be the only ones left alive, and Graham would be most happy.
His breath labored, he walked towards his wife.
Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles, as if he was about to ask to court her or woo her.
His eyes bore into hers, straightening, as he saw his wife in a new light.
Amelia gazed back, a small smile on her face.
He was aware that more rumors were being discussed around them, fortune hunter and murderer, among other things, and yet there was his wife, a dam against the rising tide of the ton, her hand outstretched towards his.
And Graham, could not fathom what he had ever done to deserve such unwavering support.
***
Lord Percival was wrestled from the ballroom by Graham’s staff when he eventually gave the order. One by one, the guests filed out of Blackthorn after the spectacle of him having ranted about the night that haunted Graham.
Once they were alone in the ballroom, with even Felicity and Daphne having retreated, Graham collapsed against one of the columns. His eyes closed, his head tipped back against the stone pillar.
“I do not wish to discuss it,” he murmured to Amelia. She had been hopeful that he might but expecting that he would not. “And I know that may seem terribly unfair, for you are likely thinking the worst—”
“I am thinking nothing of the sort.”
“I do wish to speak to you about—about the duel. Five years have passed yet it is raw in my mind. Some days it feels as though it was only a month ago, a year ago, even. And other days it feels as though an eternity has passed.”
“Graham,” Amelia murmured, “what is it you need right now?”
He blinked, and Amelia, despite the fact that he was a duke with a world at his fingertips, wondered if he had ever been asked that before. He would have been used to giving orders, or angrily muttering things to be done. Perhaps, due to his title, friends had simply acted in good favor.
He let out a sad, soft laugh. “My sister asked me a very similar question the morning I came home with my friend’s blood on my hands,” he murmured.
“She did not ask anything else. She did not even ask if I was well, for she likely knew I was not. She did not ask what happened. What can I do that you need right now, brother? was all she said.”
“And how did you respond?”
Graham fixed Amelia a look, and it was one of exhaustion.
“I told her that I needed to rest for a very long time, and that I needed to forget what had transpired. Daphne covered for me that day, told my mother I was ill, and then news began to spread of the duel. My mother fixed the pieces together, and tried to ask me about it. I told her nothing, hoping she would know her son was of good character.”
“And now?” Amelia pressed, still sensing he was not ready to discuss the whole story. “What is it you need?”
He warred with himself; she could see it. She expected for him to say solitude, or for him to tell her to leave him be, but instead, he only pushed off the column and said, “I need to dance with you while nobody else watches. I need to know that you meant every word you said tonight.”
And for Amelia, those two wishes were not hard to grant.