Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

T he following evening, Richard informed Amelia that they would be joining his friend, Frederick, for dinner. She recalled meeting the man on the day of that awful steward interview, but she had little more to go on regarding their host.

He appeared to be a fine enough gentleman and a long-time friend of Richard’s. What’s more, Frederick had invited Amelia’s friends to join them, which endeared him greatly to her. It was a kind gesture that he might allow her to feel more at ease and less like an outsider.

Perhaps Richard told his friend to invite them. Wouldn’t that be a change?

As the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the lavish estate, Amelia glanced out the window to admire the lovely building. Frederick was the Marquess of Emerton and had been companions with Richard since their time at university. These ties seemed to be the longest in Richard’s life, and Amelia silently wondered if their host was more of a brother to her husband than his own kin.

Amelia heard the tiger descend from his post to help them out of the carriage, but before she could shift closer to the exit, Richard stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Yes?” she enquired, her brows up.

“Frederick is my dearest friend. I understand that you have not spent as much time with him and that the last encounter with him was accompanied by rather regrettable circumstances. As such, I ask that you…You are to disregard whatever you may have heard about him. He is the Marquess of Emerton, and we are to be on our best behavior.”

Amelia clenched her jaw to keep it from dropping open. Were the two of them really back here again? After their conversation yesterday, Amelia was under the assumption that she had reached a level of agreement with Richard. But the man that she had seen there in her room was nowhere present at the moment, and she stole her arm away to open the carriage door.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

It was the only response she could muster, and so she stepped down from their ride with the assistance of the young tiger who stood at the ready. Amelia waited pointedly at the side for Richard to exit and lead the way toward the entrance to Frederick’s home, staring daggers into the back of his head as they went.

Upon entering the estate, Amelia was a bit taken aback by the number of guests in attendance. She had momentarily thought that the event was to be a smaller affair, but the rooms were bustling with activity and a handful of people were coming in and out of the dining area she assumed was near the back.

The dinner party was more akin to her drums, and the tension of the evening clung to Amelia all the harder. Thankfully, it was not quite as rowdy or populated as some of her more raucous parties, which she hosted only occasionally, and she could breathe a sigh of relief that the most talkative of the ton was not in attendance.

“Welcome, Your Grace. Right this way, please.” Frederick’s butler gestured forward, escorting Amelia and Richard toward the large dining room to take their seats.

Following along, Amelia ran her gaze across the pristine white marble that covered the floor and the airy decoration of the walls and ceiling. The Marquess had a lovely home, in truth, and she was slightly annoyed with herself for thinking so when she remained irritated with Richard.

They were shown to their seats for dinner and presented with refreshments while they awaited the first of the courses. Not everyone had arrived yet, it seemed as well, and as Amelia turned to smile and offer a gentle wave to Charlotte, the Viscount St. Vincent strolled in through the door.

Amelia’s stomach soured. This was the gentleman whose own actions had landed her in the scandal sheets, which, of course, had been the cause for Richard’s return. Was that perhaps why he’d been so on edge in the carriage? Was he aware of the Viscount’s invitation and worried that Amelia might embarrass herself?

I never… Her eyes burned. How little he thinks of me…

Directed to the seat just near her, the Viscount cordially greeted Amelia and then Richard, who sat on her other side.

“Good evening, Your Grace. It is lovely to see you again.”

Amelia smiled back at the Viscount, ducking her head politely. “Lord St. Vincent, what a surprise. It is quite lovely to see you again after your time at my last event.”

Politeness was often an act of rebellion created from a tapestry of beautiful words. Amelia used the ploy now to both act as directed by her husband and draw his attention to the unnecessary talk they had in the carriage.

“Oh my, you do tease me. I am aware that my exit was most unenviable. But I thank you for being so kind as to not speak on it.”

In truth, the Viscount had made a bit of a fool of himself. He’d drunk well and heartily, proving for several to see that he was indeed the rake that many believed him to be. Amelia contained herself, offering a simple smile and head shake. Lord St. Vincent was utterly charming even as foxed as he was, and she could, unfortunately, understand why the ton might link the two of them together.

Jeremy Burton, Viscount St. Vincent, was a man of great reputation and none of it painted him as a demure or orderly gentleman. Everyone in London knew that the man planted his seed wherever he so chose, and a new conquest was a weekly affair for him, according to many.

She had rebuffed his advances at least two times now.

“Good to see you, Lord St. Vincent,” Richard cut in, his tone clipped. “I do hope my wife’s events have been a keen source of gracious entertainment for you.”

Amelia chewed down a laugh, drowning it with a sip of her wine. The only thing she could imagine as gracious with the Viscount was in intake of punch and brandy—and perhaps a “dance partner” or two.

“They have been. Thank you, Your Grace, for saying so.” Lord St. Vincent adjusted in his chair, and Amelia could see the air of unease about him being reminded that he sat so close to her returned husband. “The mistress of your estate is quite capable when it comes to hosting memorable drums.”

“I’ve heard.” Richard’s jaw was taut, the muscles there straining as Amelia cast a glance in his direction.

Thankfully, the attendants came in with the first remove of steaming entrees and several roast joints after that, and the dinner progressed elaborately as they all dined on the excellent food Frederick supplied. There was little conversation from the Viscount during the meal. Still, Amelia maintained a courteous attitude, respectfully carrying on dialogues with her friends or any who spoke up to her as they occurred naturally around the dinner table.

When the second course had been served, a heaping dose of fish and fowl with several pies and vegetables in tow, it was briskly cleared away for dessert. Amelia had taken care to avoid overstuffing herself, not looking to muddle her stamina by forcing fatigue on herself from overindulgence.

As she dipped her napkin in the provided bowl of rose water to refresh herself, the Viscount shifted toward her in his chair as Richard was caught up in conversation with Frederick, who sat near him at the head of the table.

“Have you enjoyed the mean, Your Grace?” the Viscount asked.

“I have. It was a fine meal, and I shall think back to it when I am next to host a dinner party.”

Amelia smiled, happy to play her role for the evening like this if it meant simply enjoying the opportunity to converse with her friends and acquaintances from around Town.

“I am sure to be impressed with it when I join you there.” Lord St. Vincent responded, overtly inviting himself to her next event. “I only hope that you will also see fit as to grace all in attendance with your immaculate fashion choices.”

Heat gathered in Amelia’s cheeks. She wasn’t unaccustomed to hearing compliments directed at her, but she recalled how lavishly the Viscount had paid them to her at her previous drum—and how she had needed to hurry herself away from the man before he made another move on her.

“Lord St. Vincent,” Amelia turned abruptly as Richard spoke from her other side, “it does appear that you’ve managed to get a bit of wine on your shirt. I would hate to see such fine fabric stained. Perhaps you should see to a servant who might be able to aid you.”

The Viscount glanced down, noting the small stain on his cravat. His expression dropped, and while it was not an outright lie, all of us in conversation were aware of how Richard exaggerated the need to find assistance. Her husband didn’t back down, however, glaring at the Viscount until the man at last got up from the table.

“Please do excuse me, Lord Emerton. I am in need of one of your attendants it would seem. Would you allow me to take care of myself before returning?”

Frederick nodded with a relaxed smile. “Of course, Lord St. Vincent.”

With that, the seat next to Amelia was left vacant. She clenched her jaw, not wishing to say something to her husband while dessert was still being served, but her mind churned. Was Richard green over the Viscount’s attention on her? The notion was nearly silly, but he appeared so infuriated by the man that she couldn’t help but think so.

Once the last bit of fruit and cheese had been eaten, Frederick offered his drawing room to the ladies in attendance to use for conversation. At the same time, Richard and the other men there were invited to join Lord Emerton for drinks and snuff at the table.

Amelia was all too ready to leave the dining room and join her friends in the drawing room. She was all the more glad that Isaac and Magnus offered to accompany Charlotte, Selina, Ethel, and herself. Sipping at her wine with Charlotte near the warm fireplace, Amelia let out a resigned sigh before Isaac came to her other side and offered a kind hand on her shoulder.

“Are the Viscount and Richard enemies?” Selina asked. “I have not seen such animosity between the Viscount and many others. Unless they are the family of a lady whom he has taken to bed.”

“I do not believe so, though it appears my husband would like to make one out of the Viscount. Should he continue at this rate, I shall hear barking irons come dawn.”

Tension crackled along her spine, and it took everything in Amelia to keep herself from gulping down the rest of her drink.

“It is why you must be sure to encourage your husband’s return, Amelia.” Isaac stepped in front of her, lowering his stare into her face. “He is not suitable for your lifestyle here, and you deserve so much more than the Duke’s chastising.”

Amelia’s shoulders relaxed marginally at Isaac’s words. He was a dear friend, and though he did not fully understand the situation at hand, it was a comfort to know that he cared.

“Thank you, Isaac.” Amelia set down her glass on the thin ledge atop the fireplace. “I believe I just need some fresh air. I am going to take in a less crowded space for a few minutes.”

“I am happy to go with you.” Isaac smiled, offering her his arm.

She smiled, taking it gladly. The two of them addressed their friends, promising to return shortly, and then the Earl escorted Amelia out of the drawing room and down the hall. There was far less conversation here, and the quiet eased Amelia’s mood even further.

“Thank you, Isaac. It is much better away from the chaos of the party. The cooler air is especially pleasant at present.”

“Of course, Amelia. I am at your service as always.” He smiled gently, carefully walking with her arm tucked under his. “I only wish to see you happy.”

She grinned, stopping and turning toward him. “As true a friend as ever.”

Isaac regarded her, his eyes roaming her face, and for a moment, Amelia was unsure if the Earl was quite all right.

“Amelia, I have come seeking you. May I have a word with you in private.”

Startled, she faced her husband, who’d come from the dining room, and narrowed her eyes. She had half a mind to decline his request, but Amelia knew better than to cause such a stir at his friend’s dinner party. And she had promised to be on her best behavior.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Amelia addressed Isaac. “If you’re excuse me, Lord Ellingham. I must have a word with my husband.”

He nodded, but as Amelia moved to slip her arm free of his hold, Isaac tensed. The look on his face was strained, and she could just make out the underpinnings of rage bubbling beneath the surface. Laying her hand on his arm, Amelia lowered her voice to whisper at Isaac.

“It is all right. I am more than capable of handling myself alone with him. You needn’t worry.”

Still, Isaac remained frozen, but after Amelia cleared her throat, he seemed to shake himself from his mind and released her arm. His countenance held his confused guilt, and Isaac bowed to Amelia as she joined Richard at the other side of the hall.

“After you.” Richard gestured to the empty library behind him, and Amelia followed the Duke into the private space so that they might speak candidly. With one last look over her shoulder, Amelia watched Isaac bow his head and then return to the drawing room with the others.

The sound of the door shutting behind her was too loud in the silent library, and Amelia was acutely aware of the pulse in her neck. Richard still had yet to speak, and when the moments dragged on, she turned to face him, raising her brows to encourage him to speak.

Silence.

Amelia scoffed. “Have you brought me into the library to peruse the books then? Or is there something that you would like to discuss?”

Richard glared, his jaw clenching. “There is no reason to be cross with me, Amelia. I had wished to ensure that you were not roaming the hallways with Lord Ellingham. There are people to speak to in the dining room with Frederick. I wished to join him again once your friend had found himself back in the drawing room.”

Rolling her eyes hard enough that she might have seen the inside of her skull, Amelia let out a rough laugh, mirthless and irritated.

“You must seek to control every aspect of who I speak to, is that it? And would you like to explain why you sent the Viscount away when we were merely talking to one another at the dinner table?”

“I had only directed the Viscount to the stain on his?—”

“Do not pretend that that was your true motivation,” Amelia cut in, stepping up toward Richard with her chin held high. “I was doing as you asked. I was ‘behaving’ at the utmost of my ability to be cordial and respectful. Your actions at the table have sabotaged any effort I made to present myself in the best possible light.”

“I was doing no such thing.” Richard pressed forward in a similar manner, and the tightness of the well-stocked library weighed down on Amelia. “I did not appreciate the attention that the Viscount was paying to you. Everyone knows of his reputation, and I simply sought to protect you from him.”

Confusion and frustration rushed to the surface. She spun away from her husband, pacing toward the rows of shelves installed in the far wall. The room smelled distinctly like a place filled to the brim with antique texts and aging paper. Leather and the somewhat vanilla-like scent of the books attempted to comfort Amelia, but it was no use.

“Protection. Of course.” She spoke to the tomes, unwilling to turn around. “We were at a meal, sitting down with a room full of people. I was in no danger. Is there a more honest answer you wish to give me?”

The wood floor creaked behind her as Richard likely adjusted his position. “Such as?”

“That you are envious of the attention the Viscount paid toward me, perhaps?”

At that, Amelia did turn around, and she found her husband as shocked as ever when she did. His mouth hung open slightly, and he physically reeled backward.

“You cannot be serious. I am not jealous of the Viscount. What on earth would I be envious of? Hmm? You are my wife, and I was the one who had put forth the agreement that it would remain on paper only.”

A spear penetrated Amelia’s heart, invisible though it may have been. She stepped back, her spine colliding with those of the books behind her. Richard had not mentioned their original agreement in some time. And even after the dining room, Amelia had held onto a secret hope that this evening’s tension had all been a misunderstanding.

She did not feel that way now.

It was clear that her husband…that the Duke did not view her as anything more than a facet of his duty. She was not on the same footing as him, and he did not feel so inclined as to improve the standing of their relationship.

Amelia had been wrong about him—so very wrong.

“I see.” Her voice was low and quiet, for Amelia could not manage anything else. “I do believe it is quite impossible for me to deliver a reason for any perceived jealousy. It is clear that you do indeed have no call to be envious of the Viscount or anyone else for that matter. I was mistaken. It is most assuredly a fault on my behalf, being a foolish woman as I am.”

Clearing her throat as gently as she could, Amelia fought against the burning in her eyes, refusing to blink for fear that it would cause the tears to finally slip free. Offering a slow curtsey, Amelia did not look at the man across the room from her.

“If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace.”

Without another word and without allowing her eyes to find his, Amelia straightened and fled from the room as fast as she could.