Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

“ T hank you, yes. Please set them over there.”

Amelia directed the man holding the massive greenery to the newly cleaned-out conservatory. It had sat primarily dormant for some time, the space a sunny area where a few chairs and loungers had been placed for guests to take some air during the estate’s drums. That would not be the case any longer.

The lofty arched ceiling of the room stretched up higher than the other space on the ground floor, and the massive windows let in so much bright sunshine that it seemed to glow, light bouncing off the pale yellow colored walls.

Just today, Amelia had several sets of small tables and chairs delivered to the home, and the staff was helping her to arrange them into clustered seating areas scattered throughout the room. Exotic plants would surround them, filling the room with heavenly aromas and brightly contrasting greens that stood out from the rest of the estate.

“These look lovely,” Jane said quietly, admiring the foliage.

“The development of the room is highly necessary, Jane. A conservatory should be a proud extension of the estate’s exemplary care and maintenance of the gardens.”

Nodding, Amelia smiled at her maid and then surveyed the room as it was coming together.

That is what Richard shall hear at least.

Amelia knew that she was spending a fair amount to redress the room and triple the number of exotics and other such plants. Her husband would not be overjoyed to hear of it. She was certain.

Such a close-fisted man with a tight grip on his purse strings is certain to find my spending too lavish. But I, of course, have every reason to be doing as such. Richard will see soon enough how fruitless an endeavor managing me truly is .

Amelia stood back with her small smile still in place, the truth of its origins tucked away for only her, and watched the horticulturists lay out the new greenery that would take up a good majority of the enhanced conservatory.

The modifications and improvements within doors had so beautifully advanced the estate, and any Duke or Duchess could not afford to let such a lovely space go to waste. A conservatory, of course, must be a prized locale within Heartwick. As a “proper lady” Amelia knew that she had no choice but to improve the estate as such.

She chuckled to herself, feeling the inklings of her plot coming together like the halves of a seam.

“I have not seen you so lively since your husband has arrived. Though,” Jane patted her arm, “I remember how much you love them.”

“I do.” There was no lie needed there. Amelia did enjoy the plants so very much.

Furthermore, the growing variety would undoubtedly provide the best in dressing table options that could be carried through Heartwick with ease. And above the joy of riling her husband so, Amelia was forced to admit to herself that the conservatory indeed looked lovely with the numerous explosions of color scattered about the space now.

“I had nearly forgotten these past few days, but yes. I adore the plants to no end. They will look magnificent in the estate.”

Jane smiled back, bowing and dismissing herself to assist with readying some tea for a repast later on in the evening.

Taking in the space again, Amelia noted her choices.

There were peonies and birds of paradise offering touches of orange and pink. Hydrangeas offered purples, and the breathtaking tiger lilies were a patterned array of yellow and orange and brown. Still, the piece that Amelia loved most of all—aside, of course, from the massive green leaves that created parasol-like canopies all around the room—was the dahlias.

She had been told by the botanists that these exquisite flowers had been the long work of both French and German experiments, and the whole of England was becoming obsessed with the delightful colors and varieties. Amelia could see why, and she truly jumped at the chance to bring some of them into her own home.

“They are increasingly being deemed the most fashionable flower in the country, Your Grace. You have made a superb selection.”

Amelia smiled broadly as the man, a Mr. Peabody, directed the servants along with his few assistants through the room, having them place the pots and collections in just the suitable locations to suit the needs of each plant. The conditions for growing were explained thoroughly to the estate’s gardeners, and Amelia was quite sure that this would quickly become a new favorite room of the home.

“I thank you, Mr. Peabody. I adore them. I am sure that the Duke will be exceedingly pleased with your fine work.”

He ducked his head, a sweet bow from the older gentleman that only made her the slightest bit concerned that he would not be able to straighten again.

“It is my pleasure, Your Grace.”

The room began to empty of those working to place the plants and new furnishings, and Amelia was left in the room alone to gaze upon the evidence of her grand scheme. If she were being quite honest with herself, however, Amelia would have had to admit that the exotics were a gift to herself as well.

She adored the way nature consistently exceeded expectations and carried on in the face of progress and development. Growing things had always been a fascination of Amelia’s, and she walked over to the new array of dahlia basking in the sun, running her fingertips gently across the tiny petals.

When the care for them had been delivered to the staff, Amelia had been sure to listen in as well. It would be no surprise to the servants of the house that Amelia intended to tend to the plants herself. She’d once had to argue the fact, but much of the household had seen how stalwart she could be when she set her mind to something.

Richard will soon see it as well.

The sound of the front door closing firmly and the scuttling about of the household staff brought Amelia’s attention away from the gorgeous blooms. Her husband was home, and when he asked for her whereabouts and discovered her here, Amelia knew that a semblance of a warm countenance would quickly leave him.

“Amelia,” his voice called out, “what on earth are you doing in the conservatory? And why have I spotted a slew of gardeners leaving the estate?”

The sharp clack of Richard’s boots hitting the floor echoed through the halls until Amelia, at last, saw him enter the conservatory through the slight door on the wall that the glass structure shared with the house. His confused expression fled his features in a lightning strike. Amelia watched as his brows rose so high on his forehead that they nearly touched his hairline.

“What on…”

But the words trailed off, and Amelia just grinned, preening like a cat who’d stopped a determined mouse from entering the kitchen stores.

“Something simply had to be done about it, husband. A grand estate such as ours requires a grand conserv?—”

He pushed past her, sinking farther into the room as his eyes roamed this way and that. Richard tracked every single plant and leaf and bud that had been stuffed into the space, his lips slightly parted as he did.

Still, her husband was utterly silent. Amelia had been certain that he would be cross, that the Duke would let loose a tirade of cut downs in his attempt to scold and belittle her. But he said nothing.

In fact, he looked… serene .

“Richard, are you,” Amelia swallowed, an odd tightness lingering in her chest as she watched her husband brush his fingers against the blooms as she had done, “are you quite all right?”

“I have not seen this place as such since I was a boy.” His voice was quiet, awe filling it in a manner that Amelia was wholly unfamiliar with. “It is so…lovely.”

She abruptly stopped in her approach to him. Richard appeared to appreciate the work that she had done in the space, and any words that she had been prepared to offer in her defense no longer seemed needed. It left her ultimately at a loss for what she should say.

Richard’s promenade through the room led him back toward her, and as they met stares, she noticed the gentle lift to the corner of his mouth, making a dimple stand out there.

“My mother was desperately fond of green things. This room had always been her favorite, bedecked with exotic varieties of whatever she might seize for herself. I have spent many hours in this room admiring the scenery. When she passed…I had thought it would never be so again.”

Amelia’s throat closed, further pushed into the recesses of silence thanks to Richard’s confession. He spoke so little about his family, the woman who had raised him with abundantly apparent care prior to her passing.

The profound serenity on Richard’s face faltered, and his eyes flicked down to the floor. An extended intake of air claimed him, and Amelia found herself trading her weight between her feet. This was hardly the Richard she was accustomed to seeing, and it affected her immensely to see her husband without the shielding of irritation.

“My father did not care for the plants, nor did he let the staff tend to them. It was only a month following my mother’s death that they too died, left brown and crumbling in his empty space.”

An invisible crack formed within her ribcage, and Amelia’s hand went to her mouth. She was forced to swallow roughly as her eyes began to burn.

“Richard, I…” He met her stare, the hurt and haunted memories plain on his face. “I am so sorry.”

She attempted to smile, to offer the man some type of comfort in this moment of unexpected vulnerability. It was a poor imitation of a true grin. Still, something told Amelia that it was her honesty that Richard would appreciate more than empty platitudes.

“I am glad that I might bring some life back into the space. In fact,” she crossed the room, drawing Richard’s attention to the dahlias that had been placed near a larger pot of sizable leaves so that they might receive only dappled sunlight, “these have been brought in especially for Heartwick. Dahlias. They are to be the most fashionable flower in all of the country. I am quite sure they will catch everyone’s eyes.”

As she looked back at him, Richard studied the plants, that nearly imperceptible smile still worn about his mouth. A moment later, he looked up at her, his head cocking to the side in a consideration that made the hairs on Amelia’s arms stand on end.

“You had no notion of my mother’s love of botany.”

She shook her head. “No, I did not. It is a fortuitous accident. I will admit that I also have an adoration for horticulture and the like.”

Richard stepped closer, still regarding her, with a darkened look in his blue eyes.

“You did not know this about the late Duchess, so it is reasonable to assume that you did not do this to impress or entertain me.”

Her stomach clenched as the realization of what her husband was circling around hit her. Richard had been momentarily distracted by the splendor, but his sensibilities were returning, and he had ferreted out the actual reason behind this unpredictably benevolent act.

Amelia moved to step around Richard, seeking to pass by and find her way to the door so that she would not be trapped in this increasingly cramped space with him. He stepped into her path, however, keeping Amelia boxed in between his larger frame and the dense leaves at her back.

“Why did you do this, Amelia?”

Her mouth was desert dry, parched as if she’d never had so much as a sip of water in her life. But she would remain steadfast. She would deliver the exact response that had been running through her mind as she awaited Richard’s return.

“Such a grand estate requires?—”

“Do not try that excuse again, dear wife. I am not of the mind to believe that you suddenly wish most ardently to adhere to my commands. Perhaps,” he took another step forward, reaching for her chin as she attempted to keep it held aloft defiantly, “you merely sought to frustrate me, hmm?”

She didn’t dare respond, not yet. Amelia knew her tongue too well, and it was liable to unleash a tirade should she not bite the thing into submission.

“I will admit, Amelia, that I do not care if you choose to spend money so flippantly. You’ve made it quite clear that there is little I can do about it. There are funds enough and then some for you to entertain yourself with your ridiculous expenditures so long as it does not result in the ruination of the hard-won Blackford reputation.”

The smirk Richard wore cut to the heart of her, and Amelia could no longer assuage her irritation with patience.

“And a fine fudge that might be, husband. You have expressed yourself that you take terrific offense to the way I might choose to spend the funds. Aiding the community around me as so provoked your ire. Yet you tell me know that you have no care toward what I do with the estate’s finances?”

He gripped her chin, his fingers becoming increasingly demanding. As she met his lidded stare with fervor, Amelia’s pulse jumped beneath the skin of her neck. Richard’s proximity stimulated her blood, and the Duchess fought against the hungering need that steadily rose within her.

As Richard closed the inches between them, his chest brushing lightly against hers, he dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Are you seeking out my wrath so that you might experience my punishment once more, Amelia? Did your previous tending leave you with an appetite for indulgence?”

Her jaw dropped open, Amelia’s eyes flaring wide as if a coach were roaring down the road toward her, and she was caught in astonishment, frozen in place, and sure to be the victim of a collision.

“Your Grace,” she forced out, her own voice barely loud enough to cross the air between them, “I am doing no such thing. I have acted as the mistress of this house only, wishing to perform my duties to the utmost so that you might be finally at ease.”

Richard smirked at her, sliding her against him in a slither of movement that made her skin ripple over with gooseflesh. He still held her chin, with his other hand now flattened against the small of her back. Flames licked through her veins, an uncontrollable action that responded to the unstoppable force that was her husband.

“Such handsome words to form such an apparent bouncer.” He chuckled low beneath his breath, dropping his mouth toward Amelia’s ear. “I will remain grateful for the return of greenery to this restored room, darling. But I will require recompense for your impulsive attempt to get beneath my skin once more.”

Her pulse screamed in her ears, the swell of heat rising through her potent enough to set flame to her gown. Amelia had well been caught in her plot to annoy Richard once more. Still, if it were solely her disappointment and embarrassment assaulting her at present, she would not be so affected.

It was the soft brush of Richard’s lips against her skin, the way he gently nipped at the sensitive flesh beneath her ear, that warmed her like an inferno. It was the blossoming of desire within her that choked out any vexation or disappointment that had left her so jug-bitten.

She had wanted to push this all from her mind. Amelia had sought out a way to drag Richard into battle with her, one that she had mistakenly believed she would win.

To find herself now pressed against the sole object of her arousal—thoughts of his candid expression of sorrow for the loss of his mother and her prized space clouding up her brain—was a betrayal of her plan.

And Amelia could not find it within herself to care in the slightest.

“Delicious Amelia,” Richard hummed in her ear, “should you wish to draw out action from me, all you need do is ask.”

The unseen walls around her that kept Amelia back crumbled to dust, and she gasped a featherlight whimper before turning to face her husband with her eyes sealed shut. They were as one as they pursued the kiss that followed, and propriety be damned, she would have him right here and now as hers.

But a moment later, Richard was pulling himself back from her, leaving Amelia breathless and raging at the loss of contact.

“Say it, Amelia. Say the words that I have been at my wit’s end to hear.” He brushed his lips across hers, making Amelia whine. “Ask me for what you want.”

Trepidation nearly choked her, but Amelia was too far gone to the frenzy in her blood to stop now.

“Take me, Richard. Let me have all of you. Here. Now.” She looked down, sucking in a feverish breath that did little to calm her. “ Please .”

Richard grinned—seductive and wicked.

“I do so love when you beg me for things.”