Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

“ A marvelous event. Is it not, Your Grace?”

Swelling music filled the vast ballroom to the rafters, making it difficult to hear. Amelia struggled to pull her attention away from the warm wash of candlelight reflected off the shimmering fabrics of ladies’ gowns, all mirroring that subtle warmth with their yellows and golds and off-whites.

Notice of this event had been shockingly short, and Amelia was genuinely taken aback at how quickly Richard had gotten the two of them on the invitation list.

It was unheard of to be granted access with the event set to be held the very next day. Still, Amelia assumed that the hostess had been particularly amenable because she was an old family friend of the Duke, one, Lady Anne Culling-Smith, sister to the Duke of Wellington, who knew Richard’s family well.

A fact that she had only remembered when the notion of attending the ball was brought up and the information passed to Jane the previous evening.

“Lovely,” Amelia replied, bowing her head to the stately man in front of her.

His flowery words continued on as the entire space hummed with an ever-present buzz as conversations flowed. Amelia was scarcely listening to the Lord, her eyes roaming the room.

Women of marrying age vied for the attention of suitors. At the same time, business was conducted at the corners by men with plump glasses of sherry in hand. It was heartily similar to any drum or event she might attend during the Season, save for one glaring difference.

Richard insisted on introducing her to nearly every lord and lady in the home, and she had grown particularly tired of it.

“Of course, Your Grace. I don’t wish to keep you.” The Lord lowered his head toward her husband, and Amelia offered a polite, if distracted, smile as she curtsied.

As the man walked off, surely going to find another set of people to chat into a stupor, Amelia realized that she had not paid enough attention to catch the man’s name, and she chewed back on the desire to laugh.

The draining pageantry of introducing his wife to each person of station attending the ball was Richard’s sole focus, it seemed, and Amelia was near the end of her rope, seeking a way to break free from the needless conversations and escape into the solitude of a nearby terrace or hall.

Above the impossible pace of all these introductions, Amelia was more fatigued by one particular stressor that weighed on her like a gown of lead—that kiss.

Richard hadn’t so much as looked at her for longer than a few moments, and he was readily turning every conversation to business and the expectations of the ball. It was as if their torrid encounter was the farthest thing from his mind. The same could indeed not be said about Amelia.

During the brief interlude between the stream of lords and ladies, Amelia felt her cheeks heat as she stood near her husband. Every moment of silence between them was filled with the recollection of Richard’s vibrant embrace, the way his touch claimed her so utterly.

The Brussels lace of her frock gown was a smooth comfort beneath her fingertips as she toyed with the rippling fabric to distract herself. But the nerves crowding her stomach weren’t so quick to leave her be, and Amelia had a feeling that she might worry the flounces right off her dress were they not secured to the bottom of her evening gown.

She sipped at the small glass of champagne she’d been provided, the light, bubbly liquid cooling her overheated body some. Why has he said nothing? The man cannot possibly think that I believe him to have forgotten about what happened.

Ghosts of Richard’s touch haunted Amelia’s lips, and she stifled the desire to touch them. The urge made irritation flare within her, the mixture potent enough to put the drink to shame. Amelia was uncertain as to why, but the idea that Richard was staunchly pushing the experience to the side infuriated her more than she expected.

“You look flushed, Amelia. Do you require some fresh air?”

She faced her husband, the desire to snap back at him bubbling up from the depths. But she could not deny that stepping away was, in fact, all she had wanted for the past few hours.

“There is so much excitement in these fine rooms, Richard. Adjourning to the terrace would be most appreciated now that it seems we have spoken to each lord or lady in the whole of London.”

He fought back a grin, and ire rose in Amelia’s blood like a fever, threatening to force her from the room in a furious rush.

“I am quite certain there are more than these men and women of station in Town. Is interacting with the crowds such a draining experience for you?”

Her fingers clenched on the thin stem of her glass, and Amelia sucked in a deep breath through her nose as she put on a smile.

“Of course not, Richard. It is only just past eleven. There are still many hours ahead. I merely sought to reinvigorate myself, but I have little issue with remaining at your side. Indefinitely .”

The last word was bit out with venom, and Richard narrowed his eyes at her. His lips parted ever so slightly, a show that he was summoning the proper words to speak to her when he was interrupted before they could find life.

“Your Grace. I was hoping to find you here.”

They turned toward the gentleman who’d approached. As Amelia lowered herself respectfully, she noticed Richard’s expression fall, the shock and distress dragging his jovial countenance beneath the floorboards.

“Hugh?” Richard stepped backward once, regarding the man before him with his brows up to his hairline.

Silence stretched, seeing no end in sight as the two men held each other in a standoff. Amelia cleared her throat, stepping forward with her hand outstretched to greet the younger gentleman.

“I do not believe we’ve had the opportunity to meet. I am Amelia Knight, Duchess of Blackford.”

The tall man bowed his head, taking Amelia’s hand and placing a respectful kiss on the back of her gloved hand. As he straightened, she took in the striking appearance of this latest visitor, noting how similarly his face was constructed to Richard’s.

They both had the deepest black hair and athletic builds that suited them to be military men. However, where Richard’s eyes were that marvelous blue that lingered in her mind despite extravagant effort on her part to dismiss them, this young man’s eyes were a soft brown, resembling chocolate.

“A pleasure, Your Grace. I am Lord Hugh, Richard’s brother.”

“ Half brother,” Richard cut in.

Dim recollection mingled with surprise, and Amelia looked between the two of them as animosity swirled. Richard had never spoken much of his family on their fateful wedding day, and she had little opportunity to learn more about it when he was living in the countryside.

She was vaguely aware of the fact that his father had spoken to her own about the arrangement and that he had remarried after the passing of Richard’s mother. Such information was readily available from the regular “on dit” of the time, and years later, Richard had sent word of his father’s passing to Heartwick.

But that concluded the breadth of intelligence Amelia had regarding her husband’s family. Still, with what little she knew, it was abundantly clear that vitriol swelled between the brothers. She marveled at the concept of so disliking your own sibling, but she was an only child and could hardly relate.

“What are you doing here?” Richard asked, not bothering to contain the venom in his tone.

“I apologize for the sudden arrival, Brother. I wished only to speak with you regarding the Dowager Duchess. My mother is quite unwell, and I?—”

“I cannot see how that pertains to me. Our ‘families’ have been separated for some time now. She was duly taken care of after my father’s passing, provided for readily in the jointure in their marriage settlement. I’ve little desire to participate in any social arrangements that might be called by her.”

“Richard.” Hugh’s disappointment was evident, and he sighed before turning back toward Amelia. “My apologies, Your Grace. I had not intended on interrupting your fine evening.”

She grinned, waving off his guilt. Hugh was clearly another victim of her husband’s overdeveloped hubris, and the notion of employing Richard’s dislike for his brother against him brewed like strong tea left to steep for too long.

“It is quite all right, Lord Hugh. It is lovely to meet you in person. I do hope your traveling here was satisfactory.”

The younger man, likely to be in his early twenties, smiled pleasantly, nodding at her as he relaxed his shoulders a hair.

“It was, Your Grace. Thank you for asking. I will admit to quite enjoying a long ride in a post chaise. The time on the road allows one’s mind to percolate on the most interesting things.”

Amelia smiled, her amusement with Hugh genuine if exaggerated. “It does. You are quite right. I find that I settle a fair number of household concerns after a tour in the phaeton or a walk through the gardens.”

Flicking her attention to Richard briefly, Amelia’s cheek tugged up higher, her grin widening as she saw the evident displeasure poorly hidden behind her husband’s stern expression. Befriending Hugh had taken priority the moment the plan revealed itself, and Amelia set herself to enjoying the young lord’s company for the remainder of the evening. Richard’s scowl was her reward for her efforts. After the ball came to a close following a breakfast at the Lady’s table, Amelia was quite content to retire with the Duke to their estate, her work a wild success.

“You will not speak to Lord Hugh again. Am I understood, Amelia?”

Turning on her heel as Richard followed her into her bedroom, Amelia let her mouth fall open in apparent shock. He pressed inside, closing the door firmly behind him, and sauntered directly up to her, reducing the space between them to just a few inches.

“Richard, must I remind you of your own previous wishes?” Amelia leaned backward, unwilling to give up ground but affected by her husband’s proximity, nonetheless. “You have asked me to be the perfect display of a proper Duchess. How can I uphold that command while rebuffing my brother-in-law without grievance?”

His severe muscles working in his jaw, Richard regarded her. He scoffed—a faint movement of air from his lips—as he glared, his eyes narrowing. The annoyance he wore was as plain as newsprint. Still, the intensity of his gaze lit something within Amelia’s belly that churned her blood.

She wanted to blame the champagne or the fatigue that followed such a ball, but even without an evening of rest—fueled by an early retiring the previous day—Amelia knew that the hum within her blood could only be attributed to the bewitching tension between them.

“You are not one to yield, are you, Amelia?”

Doing whatever she could to steel herself, Amelia lifted her chin a hair higher, meeting her husband’s gaze and not backing down.

“No.”

Conflict played over Richard’s features, and he pressed forward, his hands finding her arms behind the elbows. The air was thick between them, a blanketing weight that couldn’t be cut by the sharpest of blades. His eyes were glowing and yet dark, and the burn of Richard’s firm grip forced Amelia to squeeze her thighs together.

“You drive me to madness, woman. Do you comprehend the otherworldly effect you have on me?”

But before Amelia could respond, lips crashed into hers, her husband claiming this feverish caress with everything he possessed.

Unable to think, Amelia returned the kiss in kind, losing herself to the commanding feel of her husband’s touch. He hauled her against his chest, locking her there as he explored the intimate taste of her lips, her tongue.

The world was a blazing inferno around them as Richard dragged his lips over Amelia’s chin down to her neck. A low moan rumbled from her, and the warmth in her cheeks swelled at the noise.

Dear God, what am I doing?

There was little opportunity to think further on it, however, because Richard used his firm control over her to walk Amelia backward. Her knees buckled as the edge of her bed pressed into them, and Richard followed her down to the softness, his lips dancing lower and lower until they reached the neckline of her gown.

The touch made her gasp, and Amelia’s eyes flew wide before squeezing shut once more. Everything Richard did was a novel magic that wound through her being like fireflies. Her breaths rushed from her chest, which only served to press her exposed skin closer to Richard’s lips.

“Richard…” Mumbling against the back of her hand, Amelia lost focus on the room around her, lost to the sensations.

Her hands went to the sides of his face instinctively, and Amelia’s back arched up off the mattress as Richard’s fingers found the edge of her cap sleeve and began to push it from her shoulder. The more rigid strap of her stays glided down as her husband saw fit to displace the fabric of her gown and chemise.

“Amelia,” he whispered against her flesh, kisses smoothing over the top of her breast, “you will heed my words. I have good cause to keep you away from Hugh, and for once, you’re going to listen to me without argument.”

Amelia’s mind was fuzzy at the edges, her thoughts like floating whisps of dandelion fluff in the wind. The deep need settled within her was intoxicating, a pulse picking up between her thighs as Richard’s caresses ignited her nerves.

“What shall you do if I don’t?”

The conviction behind her words wasn’t nearly as potent as she may have liked, and it fled entirely as Richard yanked on the delicate muslin of her full dress, exposing the overheated flesh of her breast. She yelped gently, but it bled into a sound she’d rarely—if ever—made as Richard found her nipple with his mouth.

“Richard!”

He clamped his palm over her mouth. “Now, now. You know what I am willing to do should you begin singing too loudly.”

Amelia wanted to chew on his fingers, forcing Richard to regret his choice to smother her mouth, but the desire fled away as he started up again. It was replaced by a desire—a wanton, feverish need—that consumed her sure as any flame might a bit of dry kindling.

His tongue swirled around her nipple, fragmenting her thoughts, and Amelia arched up into his mouth, her fingers tangling through Richard’s thick, black locks. She groaned as her husband’s delicious torture continued, her legs scissoring against each other as Richard perched over top of her on his knees.

All she could do was whimper against Richard’s palm as he held her captive with his unique form of persuasion. As she gripped his hair near his skull, Richard released her mouth, and Amelia gasped as the fresh air filled her lungs.

Had this been where it ended Amelia might have been able to move on with her night, taking to her solitary bed with the notion to finish things for herself.

But Richard was not done with her.

Snaking his hand down her body, he gripped her other breast in a rough squeeze, making Amelia whine as the pressure and pleasure mingled.

God, yes. What more will you give me?

She kept her thoughts to herself, but it was likely that her physical reaction was quite sufficient at delivering them to Richard without words. He toyed with her nipple, taking the hardened bud between his teeth. The pointed move sent tremors rolling through Amelia’s body, and she dug her nails into his scalp.

“You will heed my wishes, won’t you, Amelia?”

Richard gazed down at her, and she looked up at him with lust-drunk eyes as she smirked.

“Why shall I do such a thing when you cannot tell me your good cause or provide an answer to the consequences of disobedience?”

The tease was rough, and Amelia knew she was poking at her husband expertly when he narrowed his eyes on her, leaning back onto his knees. He took one of her legs, tossing it off to the side so that he could settle his weight between her thighs.

She fought against the tremble that was threatening to ripple across her spine. Amelia remained unwavering in the face of Richard’s dark stare; the blue of his eyes tinged a deep sapphire as his own arousal colored the irises.

“If you will not obey my commands, continuing to disregard a simple request from your husband…”

The sentence hung poised in the air like rain about to fall. Amelia’s pulse was furious against her ribcage. The flicker of it was felt even in her neck and…far lower as well. Richard’s size forced her legs wide to accommodate him, and she glanced at the way the fine fabric of his pantaloons was stretched around his muscular legs.

Even more, she could tell that he was genuinely aroused, and curiosity and nervousness coursed through her in equal parts. She’d never seen a man aroused like this. Why would she? It was a fascinating image, one that stirred something deep within her.

Amelia wished to know what her husband would reveal to her unclothed, memories of his bare chest filling her and making her clench in response. God, what might he truly look like beneath these flimsy layers of fabric that separated them?

The clue presented to her right now, that swelling ridge at his waist, was enough to cause Amelia’s body to heat all the more, slick coating her flesh beneath her chemise.

“I will be so inclined to leave my work unfinished.”

She couldn’t guess what Richard might mean, but then, he reached for her ankle, his fingers quickly freeing her foot from her sandal before tracing the intricate embroidery of the clocks decorating her stockings.

Amelia’s eyes rolled back as the almost-tickling sensations forced goosebumps to rise across her arms and legs. In no time at all, Richard had freed her of both her shoes and stockings, her bare legs surrounding Richard’s where he knelt on the bed.

It was so odd to be losing such simple yet powerful articles of clothing as Richard remained wholly buttoned up. He still wore his waistcoat, and the cool air against the bared skin of her breast elicited a shiver as her husband raked his eyes down her body.

“Damn, Amelia.” Her mouth dropped open at the curse. “You are magnificent.”

“I—”

But her words were cut off as Richard lowered toward her once more, his hand finding the fly-fringe at the hem of her gown only to push it away. The warmth of his skin melted into Amelia as he laid his hand against her calf a glided it up along the side of her leg.

He smoothed his palm across her flesh, dragging his touch higher and higher beneath the fabric of her skirts at a pace so agonizingly slow that Amelia thought she might lose her mind.

“You feel like silk,” Richard whispered in her ear, his lips trailing across the sensitive skin of her neck.

Amelia whimpered, clutching onto the lapels of Richard’s waistcoat. He reached the side of her hip and took a handful of her backside. She yelped quietly, imagining the sight of herself with her gown and chemise pushed up over her hips. It was torrid and licentious, a reality she’d never lived before.

“Oh, God, Richard. I…Oh…” The words tumbled from her as he wrapped her thigh with his hand, his fingertips reaching further between her legs.

He was breaths away from the core of her, and it ached for him, a powerful, relentless drive that made her hips rock all on their own.

“My, my, Amelia.” Richard nipped at the soft skin behind her ear. “You’re trembling. How does it feel to be touched like this?”

Finding an answer was like searching for an earring lost at a ball—fruitless and exhausting. All she could offer him was a strangled moan as she chewed on her lip.

“You will obey this command, Amelia.”

Richard’s fingers slipped lower, brushing across the sensitive skin of her center. Lightning licked through her nerves, and she jerked as he teased the desperate flesh that wept for him.

“Say it.”

She shook her head. Despite everything, Amelia was not one to give up on her commitments so readily, even if the gesture was accompanied by a sound so lustful that she was shocked at herself for releasing it.

“Amelia, you will not win this.” Richard’s tone was teasing and wicked. “And I will enjoy every moment of forcing those words from your sweet lips.”

Her eyes were pinched so tightly shut that stars bloomed behind her lids, and Amelia chewed on her lip as Richard’s feather-light touch traveled along her seam. She mewled, so very desperate for more, so much more.

“Naughty girl,” her husband whispered, and again, his touch drove her to the brink of madness.

When she worried that Richard would tease her like this forever, Amelia was suddenly taken aback—and deliciously grateful—as he slipped deeper between her folds, finding the heated flesh that cried out for him. His finger swirled around the aching bud at the tip, and Amelia cried out.

“Richard!”

His lips found her hastily, smothering her cries with his kisses. It drove her higher into the realms of sinful pleasure, and she gasped into his mouth as one of his digits pressed inside her.

“Say you will obey this command, Amelia.”

His hand moved back and forth, the intrusion within her nearly too much to stand. She couldn’t process what was happening, the feelings rushing through her body too alien and profound. Richard’s efforts were divine, sinking inside her while still tending to the bundle of nerves that sent zinging waves through her.

It was building, blazing brighter and hotter, and Amelia was so very close to soaring over that invisible edge into utter bliss.

“Say it, wife.”

Still, she didn’t say a word, too gone from the way Richard played her body like a tune he’d memorized for years. Another finger slipped inside her, and Amelia yelped. There was a tight burn that melted with each thrust of Richard’s hand, and Amelia arched up, grinding herself against her husband’s knuckles.

More. Please, God. I need more.

“Amelia,” Richard said, hushed against her mouth in a sing-song tone that had her whining. “I’m waiting.”

Tingling swelled, and Amelia worked herself more against his hand as he thrust hard and deep. She was right there. The release was so very close.

And then he stopped.

“No!” Amelia’s eyes flew open as she craned herself up, trying for more of those exquisite feelings.

Richard snickered, smirking down at her as he ghosted his touch over her slit.

“No? If you want more, Amelia, you know precisely what you need to do.”

She glared at him, her being a tangled mess of desperation and embarrassment. How had she let herself get so worked up by Richard like this, and still, Amelia was so damned thrilled that he’d come to her, touched her.

Amelia did not want to relent. She wanted to fight against her husband’s insistent demands until she was blue in the face. And yet…

The need for release was maddening. Richard still teased her, keeping her right on the edge, and a tear slipped from her eyes as her body reeled from the magnificent torture.

This one thing. I can give him this one thing if only he’ll continue.

“I will not seek out Hugh,” Amelia whined against Richard’s lips, feeling so utterly claimed as he held her against him, his hand sunk between her thighs as his tongue brushed against her own. “Now, please .”

“Please, what?” Richard drawled, his touches becoming quicker, more fierce.

Her hips bucked when he patted the swollen flesh, embers leaping through her veins.

“Please!” The cry echoed lightly off the walls of her bedroom, the sound of the fire flickering not enough to drown it out. “Let me release. I need more. Please .”

Her words were a mortifying beg, and there was nothing Amelia could do about it. There was little in the universe she wouldn’t give for the satisfaction of finally tumbling over the cliff she sat perched on.

“Sweet, sweet Amelia,” Richard nipped at her bottom lip, his fingers spreading her before sinking inside as far as he could reach, “let me see you fall apart.”

With that, his work started up again, and it was blinding in the sheer intensity of it all. He filled her up, reaching the depths of her before hooking onto a miraculous area within that made her see stars. Amelia seized up, everything exploding as the climax washed over her.

It dragged on until she was a useless puddle of herself. Only then did Richard pull back, looking down at her like the cat who’d had his cream—and caught a mouse to boot.

“That’s such a good girl.”