Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“ I will never allow Selina to mix her concoctions ever again,” Amelia groaned to herself, leaning away from the chamber pot, which now contained the contents of her stomach.

As soon as she’d stirred awake, Amelia felt the roiling of her guts, and she was forced to dash to the thing to empty her stomach. Her head throbbed, the likes of which she’d never known, and she could scarcely remember what had happened during the final hours of her evening with her friends.

Jane and another servant brought it a fresh pot of tea, but she nearly retched once more when they presented her with toast and jam.

“No, not yet. I will try for a meal later on. Thank you, Jane.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I will deliver word that you are under the weather today to all that call on you.”

Amelia nodded but quickly stopped the gesture as it made the terrible pound in her temples start up all the harder.

“Yes, perfect, Jane. I need to rest.”

Soon enough, she was left alone in her room as she continued to work toward recovery. Amelia had been overcome with the drink a small handful of times, the likes of which she could count on one hand even over five years. This felt tremendously worse than those previous situations.

Shakily standing from her position on the floor, Amelia dragged herself to the bed. At first, she tried pulling the thick covers across her trembling legs, but the heat was too much, causing her stomach to revolt once more, and Amelia flung them off again. She lie there in just her chemise, tempted to remove it too and sleep away the day in bed like a naked infant. But the act of removing the garment seemed too great a task.

Knock, knock, knock.

Amelia had requested a cool cloth, as for when affected by a fever, and so she called out to Jane to bring it in.

“Apologies, Amelia,” Richard spoke too loudly, “it is not Jane. Though I did retrieve your cloth.”

Jerking with surprise—which was an immediate regret—Amelia forced herself to sit up against the pillows behind her, eyeing Richard with her brows at her hairline.

“Richard,” she struggled to swallow, attempting to wet her overly dry mouth, “what are you…Thank you.”

She reached out, taking the offered cloth and pressing it to her forehead. The room hung in silence for a moment before Richard walked to the foot of her bed and sat down.

“Are you quite well?”

Offering a half-hearted smile, Amelia bobbed her head in a minute nod. “I shall be fine. I…I apologize for last evening. I surely must have been possessed to do such things.”

He chuckled lightly, but the wrinkles between Richard’s brows remained, and after busying himself with staring at the embroidery on her duvet cover, her husband’s eyes found hers, full of concern.

“Shall I call for a physician?”

Amelia’s mouth fell open slightly, and she couldn’t stop the heat from her cheeks. She grinned slightly, remorse still clinging to her, and she shook her head enough to get her point across without forcing herself to retch again.

“No. I am sure I will recover readily.”

Richard nodded, his lips rolled into a tight smile. Still, that worry between his brows was there. Amelia’s chest pinched, every inch of her skin humming with fire. It was quite the thing to see her husband so worked up over her. Worry on her behalf was the last thing she thought Richard might struggle with, and here they were.

It was nearly enough to make her laugh if it didn’t also make tears spring to the corners of her eyes.

Come now, Amelia. You cannot fall apart around him…not again.

“Truly, I will recover. I only wish that I would not have carried on so. I cannot recall what happened during my evening. It is mortifying to think that I became so deep in my cups.”

“I dare say, Your Grace, you had completely fallen within them and had intended to sleep there had I not moved you.”

Amelia gasped out a strangled laugh that was part for humor and part for embarrassment. She shook her head, covering her face with her hands before glaring back at her husband, who had the gall to chuckle easily.

“It is not funny. My head feels as if a new street were being constructed within it, and my stomach churns like the worst of seasickness I’ve ever gotten.”

Richard smirked, raising his brows as he folded his arms across his chest. He leaned back against the poster of her bed, and she couldn’t keep herself from eyeing the strain of the fabric around his biceps.

“Perhaps you should have then kept better track of your refreshments.”

Eyeing him playfully, Amelia nudged at Richard with her foot, nearly causing him to tumble to the floor.

“I blame that most ardently on Selina’s drink-making. She is not one for it often, of course, and it was clearly an unwise decision to allow her to recreate a drink she had tried just last week.”

Richard chuckled, and Amelia was quick to follow with her own. Something was different about their interaction this time around, a feeling of relaxed teasing present that she had never felt with any but her closest friends. It was a delightful sort of odd, to feel comfortable enough to joke with Richard and expect no retaliation that was not like in kind.

“I will admit that it was quite a dreadful sight to behold. You were asleep in the hallway in a matter of moments once you’d finally climbed the stairs.” Richard bumped her foot with his knee in return. “And you truly do not recall what had led you to such a place?”

Regret clung to her, having not been the kind to allow herself to imbibe that much of the drink. “No, alas, I do not. I can recall starting Selina's second drink attempt, a foul thing that I forced myself to choke down, and I only recall that it tasted stronger than the previous. Lord Isaac had gone to supervise her, but the woman can be a stubborn thing.”

“Quite the evening, it seems, Amelia. Perhaps Selina was attempting to get you foxed enough to start up another scandal for the sheets?”

Amelia gasped, shaking her head vehemently. “Never! She is a kind friend and the Dowager Duchess of Soulden. She would sully her own reputation should word also spread of her forcing someone into befuddlement. Though, it is not so difficult as to consider that she might have gotten carried away with her pour.”

Richard grinned. “So then perhaps the Dowager Duchess should be steered most assuredly away from the estate’s bottles of liquor and the kitchens.”

Smiling tightly, a twinge of guilt affecting the expression, Amelia wrinkled her nose with a nod. “That is likely quite wise.”

The comfortable she’d felt began to stretch thin, Richard’s presence in the room something unfamiliar and nerve-wracking. He appeared to pick up on it as well, swallowing hard as he sat up straighter. The man was in her bedroom, seated on her actual bed, and Amelia herself was hardly dressed for visitors.

Still, Richard wasn’t exactly a “guest,” now was he. The man was her husband, and if they’d entertained a more traditional marriage arrangement, it was very likely that the two of them would have already consummated their vows and shared a bed chamber.

Even more, if Richard were a friend—Lady Charlotte, for example—his presence in the room would be of little concern. There was no scandal associated with two women enjoying each other’s private company, but the same could not be said for interactions of the opposite sex. Amelia found herself angered at the state of the world, her frustration gnawing at her guts along with the remaining alcohol.

She still knew so little about the man who she called her husband, and Richard could say the same of her. How were people meant to discover each other like this? Why was it that a married couple might only learn of each other’s intricacies after they had been wed?

The lower classes did not always have that problem, but they more than had enough of their own to make up for it.

“You look lost in your thoughts. What is it that bothers you so much?” Richard’s voice was steady and low, and she flicked her eyes up to his, seeing honest curiosity in his expression.

“We are a community here in England that relies so heavily on propriety and appropriateness. While I’ve never been the kind to go against those notions overmuch, I cannot help but wonder why it is we are so locked up behind the bars of it.”

Richard cocked a brow, tilting his head at her as he leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

With a tight grin, Amelia mirrored Richard’s posture, leaning forward so that she rested her elbows on the bent knees of her lap.

“Were you not my husband, speaking with me in my chambers like this would be disastrously scandalous. Truth or not, my reputation would be sundered without repair. Each time I am to enjoy myself with my friends, whether or not there is drink or validity to any of the claims made about what we do, I am met with yet another mention in the scandal sheets or eyes on me during the next drum. I only wish to live my life with happiness, not caring for the opinions of those around me.”

Surprise took Richard first, but after a moment, he absorbed more of what Amelia had said. His mind churned the ideas and words together, digesting them before immediately responding with his own thoughts. She watched his eyes narrow as his stare fell to the bed again. Amelia was subtly amused with how Richard ruminated on what she’d said.

“I…” he began, sucking in a deep breath then meeting her eyes. “I believe I understand. Bending yourself into the form expected of you can be tiring, even more when that effort does not appear to be recognized or appreciated.”

Amelia sat up straighter, her eyes flaring as she felt the weight on her shoulders shift. She looked upon Richard with a bit of awe as he genuinely appeared to understand what she was insinuating. She’d never been understood like that by anyone but her closest friends.

“Precisely. I do not wish to be miserable for the whole of my life when happiness is possible.” Amelia let out a sigh that bled into a mournful half-laugh. “I have spent the majority of my time alive doing everything I could to please my father…to be a good daughter. It has left Amelia with very little that brings Amelia joy at the end of the day. I will admit to being desperate to keep ahold of what gladness I can.”

Richard was quiet, and after a time, his gaze fell back to the empty space between them. Amelia was quick to follow, tracking the stitchwork lines threaded through the covers of her bed. She’d rarely been that honest with anyone, and it was indeed a surprise to be so with her husband.

He wasn’t the man she expected to find after all these years, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. In any case, it was good to know that he could comprehend the fundamentals of how she felt and why she was so adamant about her life not changing drastically.

Amelia was not a cruel person. She did not drink to excess on most occasions, and she did not seek comfort out of the bonds of her marriage. It was a simple and often lonely existence that she claimed ownership of. The drums and events were her friends filled that absent space between her ribs, even if only for a time.

Could Richard understand that?

“Well,” his voice broke the silence in a whisper, “I should leave you to your rest. I do hope you are feeling better for good, Amelia.”

Her chest pinched, and she struggled to swallow or breathe or find the words to respond. A change was present in the air between them, and it filled her with trepidation and hope.

“Thank you, Richard. I am sure I will be good as new come this evening.”

He nodded. “Then I shall hope to see you at dinner. Good day, Amelia.”

With a thin voice that she struggled to keep from wavering, she replied, “Good day, Richard.”

He silently stood up from the bed and crossed the room to the door. As he left, Richard took one final look over his shoulder at her, and Amelia did her best to offer him a smile. When the door was fully closed, she let out a shaky breath, unsure if she would sob if given the opportunity.

Please…let him understand.