Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

R ichard’s attention sat focused on the silver sheen of the candlestick set on the table just a few feet from him. A housemaid brought in a refresher of his coffee, but he did not immediately reach for it. The flame flickered above the candlestick, and he could see the moving illumination reflected in the metal.

He’d become peckish, wishing for a repast to fill himself before the evening’s dinner, and had the maids bring him a selection of cold meats and a variety of the fruits that were available during the Season.

It had been several minutes since he’d sat down, and Richard was suddenly aware that while he’d loaded up his plate, he’d yet to actually consume any of it. The Duke had sipped at his coffee regularly, but his mind had drifted off, taking with it, it seemed, his appetite.

The sound of the front door opening brought him out of his head, and Richard looked up from the table toward the door. Amelia’s voice sounded in the hall just beyond the room, and Richard tensed. This would not do. She’d been avoiding him all morning, and if they were to remain partners of their preexisting agreement, they needed to converse.

“Would you please ask my wife to join me at the table?” Richard asked the maid, standing against the wall.

She was quick to nod and hurried off to retrieve Amelia. The Duke had half a mind to believe that his wife would refuse his request, so it was with surprise that he met her eyes in the doorway to the dining room.

“Richard,” Amelia dipped before walking to the other end of the table and sitting down, “Good day.”

“Good day.” He returned, his throat tight for the words that remained lodged there. “Thank you for joining me.”

Amelia only nodded, and as the maid offered her a cup of tea, his wife smiled at her gently, retrieving the cup to sip at it quietly. Richard stiffened, adjusting in his seat as he looked toward the young maid.

“Thank you. That will be all for now. I would like a moment of privacy with the Duchess.”

The maid curtsied and left the room, leaving the two of them to sit awkwardly in silence until suddenly Amelia’s eyes lifted to his, and she broke the quiet, blurting out her words in a stream nearly too quick to process.

“Richard, I have run into your brother, Hugh. He was searching me out as I took to the shop with Charlotte. I must profess that I was not seeking him out, and I did look to leave the situation without engaging him in conversation.”

His stomach clenched, his hand balling into a fist on the table reflexively. “What?”

“I saw him at the hat shop. We walked down the row for a moment. He wishes to speak with you. He wishes to convey his apologies for leaving the estate with his mother those years ago and has professed that he did not understand the nature of the situation. I will not take Hugh’s words from him, but I did say that I would speak on his behalf to you, and so I have.”

Shock registered through Richard’s body, and he was physically knocked back against his chair as Amelia’s words tumbled out into the room. His mind spun, and it was with great effort that he sucked in a new breath of air and attempted to ensure his understanding of the situation.

“You spoke to Hugh.” He pulled his stare from his still-full plate up to Amelia’s distressed face. “You spoke with my brother even as I had expressly forbidden you from doing so.”

Amelia’s brows pinched together as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. When she again met Richard’s glare, Amelia pleaded with him.

“It was not my intention to go against your wishes. I was astonished to run into Hugh. I imagine that he inquired about my location with the staff or perhaps with Magnus, as it was set that I would be out with Charlotte.”

In truth, Richard cared very little about how Hugh had located Amelia. It was no great challenge to ask a lady’s maid where the mistress of the house might be or to call on the friends of the lady to determine where they had gone. The point of contention that hung so precariously perched over him like a blade suspended in the air was that Amelia did indeed speak to Hugh.

And they had apparently exchanged a number of words regarding Richard’s upbringing.

“How could you have done this? I wished for you to disengage with my brother should he ever present himself again, and instead, you allowed him to bend your ear toward truth that no doubt painted him in a sympathetic light. He abandoned me along with his mother.”

Rage warmed his blood to boiling, and Richard shoved back from the table. It sent his chair crashing to the floor, landing with a heavy thud, and he rushed for the door, intent on leaving the room—and perhaps all of Heartwick.

“Please, Richard. Hear what I have to say. I do not wish to anger you. I have only just learned of how awful your father’s treatment of you was, and?—”

He turned back toward Amelia, glaring as he pointed a stern finger at her. “You know nothing of my father or me.”

His wife’s eyes were glassy as she stood just in front of him, the tip of his finger brushing against her fichu, which she still wore draped over her shoulders from her morning out with Lady Charlotte.

Richard faltered. He had not invited Amelia into the dining room to engage in another screaming match.

There was a thicket of overgrown roses between them, gorgeous blossoms choked by vines too abundant with thorns. His purpose in requesting her had been to admit the truth to her—Richard was jealous of the affections paid to her by the Viscount. He had been entirely on edge the previous evening, his words the result of his nerves surrounding how Frederick might perceive him once his friend had seen him around her.

The woman possessed an uncanny ability to see through him, and he knew that Frederick would notice how he reacted. Lord Emerton knew Richard especially well also, but he could get carried away. Lord held him if his friend had decided there was something more between Richard and Amelia.

At once, the fury that wormed through his blood—a poison that had begun to damage another of the relationships in his life— subsided, replaced by an exhaustion that claimed him, body and soul. Richard slumped into himself, releasing a heavy breath.

“Amelia….you do not understand the situation. Hugh’s mother became a part of my life when my own had just passed. She was a quiet woman with me, but she was there when I was still sickly. My father had not cared for me at all when my health was poor, nor any time following, and it was to the Dowager Duchess that my care fell. I…I began to see her as a maternal figure. When she suddenly left after my father’s attention returned to me—my health improved, but his ire was ever more gruesome—I could not understand why she would choose to leave me behind with the man. Unless…”

His voice cracked, Richard’s throat seizing up. It took him squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to finish the sentence.

“Unless she had never cared for me.”

“Richard…”

Amelia’s lips remained gently parted when he looked down at her. Richard could see that dreadful pity creeping up through her expression, and he ground his molars. He was not a child any longer. He was not sick, nor was he fragile nor enfeebled. He did not need Amelia’s sympathy, or anyone else’s for that matter.

“Leave it be, Amelia. It is better to remain in the dark. I will not discuss it further.”

Her body pulled taut like the string of a pianoforte as he eyes widened. The silence stretched between them, and Richard was sure that he would be exiting from the dining room with plans to return to Blackford.

But then Amelia blinked, exhaling out the tension in a visible move to relax her posture. She met his eyes, holding out her hand toward him.

“I do not wish to leave it, Richard. Please. I would like to understand. Would you at last tell me of your father’s treatment?”

The Duke’s mouth fell open, and he stumbled backward onto his other foot. Amelia stood straight and unflinching before him, seeing the edges of darkness that clouded his mind and not running from it. Richard regarded her, cocking his head as she held his stare with an open expression.

After a moment, he took her hand, and they walked back to the table, sitting down in two chairs next to each other along the side.

“He…He was cruel, Amelia. I was his heir and not born for it, it had seemed. When I was struggling as a child, he did nothing to aid my recovery, going so far as to shove me aside as he pleased. My father had seemed so urgent in his need to remarry as well. I did not put together his motivations when I was a child, but I can look back and see now that he hoped to secure a more viable heir.”

Amelia said nothing, allowing Richard the space to collect the words he wished to use to convey this grim tale of his past. He had never spoken of these things to anyone before, and it was a trial to dig up the bones that he’d kept buried for so long.

“Hugh had been that heir, and his attention left me for a time. I was privy to what went on between my father and his new wife, though as she took care of young Hugh, less of her attention was placed on me. I had to believe at that time that she was simply doting on the child who required more consideration.

“I dwelt happily in a land of neglect for a time…until my health improved. I grew stronger, at last surpassing the stature and capability of my young brother. My father’s machinations returned their focus to me in kind. He demanded perfection, using whatever means he deemed necessary to ensure that outcome. I bear the scars of it still. But self-protection, it seems, is innate. I steeled myself to it all, becoming a fortress that his physical attacks would only mar the exterior of.”

Richard’s next word caught in his throat, the realization that he’d said so much finally reaching him after the minutes of unfettered confession.

“I should not have said this. There is nothing to be done of the past, and the present remains as it ever did.”

“Richard,” Amelia slid herself to the edge of her seat, taking his hands, “there is nothing to feel ashamed of. I am eternally grateful that you have told me the truth. Your father…”

“Amelia, don’t.” Richard shook his head.

A hand came to his cheek, forcing the Duke to gaze into the eyes of the astounding woman seated across from him.

“He was wrong, Richard. He should never have harmed you.” The glittering of her black-tea irises reflected the emotion that made her voice small, but she did not look away. “You have survived him. A feat you should be proud of.”

He was at a loss for words. Try as he might, nothing was coming down the train from his mind to his mouth. Richard was locked to his seat, unable to move, only exist under the intense stare of his wife.

His wife.

“He had chosen you, Amelia.” Richard’s voice barely broke through the still air. “My father had put you forth as a bride, and I hated you for it. I could not bring myself to care for anything that he might have touched.”

A single tear slid from her cheek, and Richard lifted his fingers to her skin to swipe it away. Cracking and tearing, the appearance of a massive fissure in the bastion he’d constructed around himself through years of abuse and sorrow forced Richard to, at last, say what had been haunting his mind.

“I cannot hate you, Amelia. I have tried.” Richard shook his head, holding her face cupped against his palm. “I have fought at every turn to look upon you and feel nothing, and I have failed each and every time. I cannot do anything but see your eyes and succumb to all that you are.”

Amelia trembled, her body heaving as she sucked in breaths in an effort to keep the tears restrained.

“In seeking to protect myself from others that might use me for their own gains as my father had done, I have become the very thing that I most detested. I have been cruel to you, just as the late Duke had been cruel to me. And for that, I will forever be remorseful.”

“Richard,” Amelia’s voice broke, another tear slipping free, “I do not hate you, either. I find, though I, too, have tried to think of you only as a nuisance, I cannot. You have been the first man that I’ve allowed so close to my heart, to all of me. In the five years of your absence, I have been with no other. I know what people have said of me, and in truth, I cannot blame them. I only wish that you would see me as I am, for who I am.”

The Duke dropped down onto his knee in front of Amelia, looking up at her from his position on the floor. He gathered her face in both his hands, caring nothing for the way others might view him lowered before her like this. In fact, caring nothing for any appraisal performed by the members of the ton for the first time in his existence.

“I see you, Amelia.” He held her stare unblinking. “I see you, and I tell you now in earnest. There is nothing on this great earth that has left me so transformed. You are a force of nature, and I am but a leaf tossed about in your winds. You have enraptured me so, dearest Amelia, and I shall never be the same again.”

Richard pulled her lips to his, giving himself over to the mesmerizing embrace that he’d come to adore. Amelia was indeed the sun to his earth, and he orbited her as a grateful celestial body enamored by her light.

Amelia melted against him as Richard pulled her into his arms. The grace of her body pressed to his lit up his soul, and he would think of nothing more divine than the feeling of her lips on his. She sighed against his mouth, her hands on either side of his face. As Amelia hovered her lips above his skin, flashes of ghostly touches igniting an ember of desire, she touched her forehead to his.

“Take me upstairs. Let me see you.”

A spark of apprehension touched him, but Richard shook it loose, scooping Amelia up into his arms and heading directly for the staircase. He carried her up, dressing her skin in kisses as he climbed each stair toward his room. Arriving, Richard shut them in together, securing the door before guiding Amelia back to his bed, their lips tangling.

There were no words for the enormity of the sentiments surging in his chest, and he wished to communicate them all through his touch, his worship of her. Amelia lay back against the covers, and Richard’s hands went to the fichu still tucked into the front of her overdress. He pulled it free, dropping it to the floor.

“Richard.” The plea was soft, gentle, and Richard smoothed his lips over Amelia’s neck.

The ferocity of before was not present, though a deep well of passion bloomed. Richard needed every inch of Amelia, every glowing sunbeam that traversed the stars toward him. The whole of the universe did not matter, save for this singular spec in time. If he were to perish, it would be done gladly for the moments stolen with Amelia.

Richard danced his caresses down Amelia’s body, finding the ties of her stockings at her knees and pulling them free. He retrieved the pin from the back of hair that kept it up and the bonnet she’d worn beneath her morning hat. They were all swept away with the demand to see his wife as she truly was—without frivolities or layers of muslin and lace.

Helping to remove the many pieces of her attire, Amelia lifted the smaller garments over her head while sliding others down her arms, leaving her in just her chemise. Richard proceeded through the motions of undressing simultaneously until he was left in nothing but his trousers, bare-chested and without shoes.

They had been so close before, but in their haste the previous times, neither Richard nor Amelia had ever been fully naked before the other. His heart hammered against his ribs as he studied the subtle curves beneath Amelia’s chemise. Her eyes roamed his face and chest, dropping to the flap of his trousers.

He grinned at her, moving onto his knees on the bed as he gathered the hem of her chemise in his hands and began to wind it up her body. It was a journey of patient exploration, and Richard allowed himself to savor each slip of flesh that was revealed. At her hips, Amelia took hold of the shift and hoisted it over her head.

“Amelia,” Richard whispered, in awe of her beauty.

Her skin flushed a delicate pink, and Richard covered her with his body, kissing her once more. Amelia’s slim fingers came to his waistband, and she helped him unbutton the fabric and discard his unmentionables.

They were bared to each other, nothing and no one—least of all Richard—standing between them now. The freedom of this private moment infiltrated his blood, and the Duke let all the pretense and propriety fall to the wayside. Even more, he allowed himself to feel the depths of himself behind the raw arousal for Amelia, which was as potent as ever.

He admired Amelia. He was in awe of her drive and fortitude in spite of everything that sought to keep her down, including himself up until that moment. Richard had so little in his life that he felt attached to, so few people who brought joy into his solitary existence. Amelia provided both in kind, her very being enough to begin patching the chasm of his fractured heart.

Gazing down her body, Richard moved between her legs, kneeling in front of Amelia on his bed. As his eyes returned to her face, he could see the nervousness resting there, and he offered a small smile.

“You are exquisite.” He pressed his lips to hers, relishing in her taste. “Magnificence made real. Please…allow me to serve your needs. Allow me to show you the pleasure you deserve.”

Waiting for her words, Richard hovered above Amelia. There was a well of passion contained within the lovely darkness of her eyes, one he would gladly fall into. Still, she didn’t speak, instead taking his face in her hands and directing him to her lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Richard gave himself over to the unyielding desire to take Amelia’s body to new heights.

Her lips partly eagerly as he swept his tongue across the seam there. Richard devoured her taste as they both threw themselves wholeheartedly into the caress. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her side, the velvety silk of her skin warming him with desire. She arched into his touch, silently asking for more of him, more that he was all too happy to give. He surged between them, his being crying out for hers.

Amelia was soft beneath his firm grip, the swell of her breasts pressing into his chest. Coasting his palm over her, Richard cupped a full curve in his hand, reaching with his thumb for the pebbled bud of her nipple. She hissed against his mouth, her breath fluttering over him as he worked her pert tip.

“Richard,” Amelia moaned, and he smiled against her skin before walking his kisses down the plane of her neck.

He held her in his hands, gripping solidly. Richard could not be moved from this space by anything, and he swelled in a desperate ache. Sinking lower, the Duke licked over the creamy skin of Amelia’s breast. Further and further down, he finally arrived at the bud he so sough, sucking it into his mouth.

Threading her fingers through his hair, Amelia arched up into him. Her legs shifted on either side of him as she reeled from the sensation. He continued, loving how she responded to him. Teasing her nipple with his teeth, Richard squeezed her other supple breast, then skated his hand down to her hip.

Her full curves were a gift to his grip, and Richard laved at her while he stole the opportunity to sneak his hand between them. Amelia’s thighs were slick with her need, and he groaned around her nipple in his teeth when he guided his fingers to her seam.

“My Amelia,” he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear, and then swept up across her center, making Amelia buck against his hand.

He needed more of her bewildering taste, more of Amelia’s painfully beautiful form welcoming under his tongue. Moving inside her with his fingers, Amelia whimpered quietly as he worked her core. The feeling of her warmth surging around his digits was a familiar joy, and he was still as entranced by it as before.

More. I wish to forget where she ends and I begin.

He danced his lips down her stomach, lower and lower, until his kisses decorated the inside of her thigh. She was heaven around him in sight and sound and smell and taste. Amelia’s fingers still wound through his locks, tugging at the roots.

“Richard, oh God…”

“Yes, sing for me, beautiful.” In slow circles and swipes, Richard progressed his lips closer to where his fingers speared Amelia’s center. At last, he arrived at the swollen, slick intimacy that only he had claimed, and he devoured her as his fingers slipped in and out, her taste flaring on his tongue like a sinful gift.

“Ugh!” She cried out, and he smiled against her wares, flicking the bundle at the tip of her entrance. She pulsed around his fingers, a climax certainly drawing closer as his ministrations set glorious fire to her nerves.

She was a finer wine than any he’d tasted in his life. Richard drank Amelia down until she was whining, furious fingers gripping his hair as she crescendo into a release for him. He could feel her walls gripping his forefinger and middle, her flavor exploding on his tongue all the more.

As it receded, if only a hair, Richard crawled back up her body, still working her core as he positioned himself to enter her. His shaft throbbed, thrumming with potent arousal, and the Duke took hold of himself as he began to thread the needle.

He slipped inside, Amelia’s body welcoming him into this perfect union. Reaching as far as he could, Richard rocked forward so that Amelia’s channel took all of him up to the hilt. His head nudged against her depths, and Amelia yelped gently, her arms flying around his neck.

“Do…not…” Amelia breathed hard between words. “Ever…stop.”

The flicker of worry he’d first felt vanished, and Richard pumped himself in and out of her with deliberate attention. Every movement was experienced to its fullest, the way she clenched around him, the warmth, the slick gliding, all perfection.

Sunlight swelled behind his ribs, and Richard took Amelia’s cheek in his hand as he pressed himself deeper. Her eyes flickered open, and there in the eye of the storm—their lives a turbulent battle of circumstance—they held onto each other’s stares. She was his life raft in the chaos of these depths, and Richard’s entire being called out for hers.

“Amelia.” It was all the words he could find, but it held with it the enormity of his affection for her.

She looked up at him, a delicate sheen coating her brow, and did not look away. The moment escalated until it was all that either of them knew, and Richard was struck by the lightning of realization. No one in this wide world now mattered to him more than Amelia. She had filled the cracks of his heart with her defiance and charm.

He…loved her.

Sensation rushed through every inch of Richard’s body, and in a monumental swell of pleasure, he tumbled over the edge. Amelia’s channel clamped down in rhythmic fluttering, her release drawing his own out until he had emptied the whole of his soul into her.

Stillness returned, his heart still thudding in his chest, and Richard took his place on his side behind Amelia, pulling her against his chest. Unconsciousness would soon claim them both, a sleep so profound for the passion they’d shared.

Still, something itched at the back of Richard’s mind, and it stole the elation that he never wished to leave behind. Amelia had begun to breathe in a steady rhythm, slumber taking her. Richard was only met with a force of panic. He had come to Heartwick to rein in his wife’s behavior, but he could not do that now.

Amelia did not deserve the iron hold of a husband without subtlety or tenderness. He was not the man that would serve his wife’s joy. He was too far down the tunnels of his own darkness. He would not bring her there with him.

I cannot cause the downfall of Amelia’s single joys in life. I will not take that from her .

Closing his eyes, Richard allowed himself to enjoy this last evening with Amelia. For tomorrow, he would gather his things and set out once more for Blackford.