Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

W armth tickled over her cheek, and Amelia stirred in the bed. Reaching out an arm across the surface, she was surprised to not only find the space unoccupied but of a different color than the previous evening. Dim memories surfaced, but she had thought she had dreamed it.

“My bed. I…I am in my bed.”

A stitch pressed into her chest, but Amelia shrugged it off. She could not allow herself to become so affected by a simple matter. Richard likely wished for her to enjoy a whole rest, and the Duke was always one to rise early. Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head, a lightness finding her spirit again.

Amelia was sure that their evening together had meant something, a change would be coming for their relationship. Richard had been charmingly tender with her while still igniting such passion that she thought she might burst into flames.

With a smile and a sigh, Amelia stood up from the bed, noting that she was dressed in naught but her house robe, and walked to the wash basin. She splashed the cool water over her face, and only a moment or two later, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Jane entered to help her dress for the day, though Amelia’s mind was hardly present for it. Her thoughts continued to fall back toward Richard. The memory of their conversation in the dining room overwhelmed her. Her husband had been so forthcoming, and Amelia felt in awe of how he’d trusted her with the information.

“There is breakfast, Your Grace. I believe the Duke is already in attendance.”

Amelia smiled. “Thank you, Jane. I shall join him forthwith.”

When she completed her dressing, Amelia followed her lady’s maid down to the breakfast room, her heart lighter than it had been in a terrible amount of time. Richard’s words—but even more his actions—had showcased the change in him. They were in agreement she was sure of it, and better still, Amelia knew that her husband returned her affections.

She’d fallen in love with the Duke along the way, this strange journey of theirs toward happiness, and she was so very ready to begin their life anew together.

When she entered the breakfast room, Richard sat at the far end of the table. There had been several fruits and cakes brought in that now donned the large spread, as well as eggs and a bit cold meats. The time was a bit earlier than their customary breakfast, but Amelia’s stomach rumbled with excitement over the delicious smells.

In truth, she had worked up quite the appetite last evening, and she was looking forward to indulging a bit so that she could satiate her hunger.

“Good morning,” she spoke with a smile.

Richard did not look up from his plate, seeming distracted as his fingers fiddled with the edges of his napkin.

“Would you care for tea or coffee this morning, Your Grace?”

Amelia turned over her shoulder as she sat down at the other end of the table. The housemaid smiled sweetly, and Amelia returned the expression quickly, gladness consuming her.

“Tea, thank you.” She took her napkin from beside her plate and draped it over her lap. “Plenty of sugar, too, please.”

The maid dipped in a little curtsey and was off to fetch the tea in a flash. Amelia returned her attention to Richard, who was still idly tracing his gaze over the embroidery on his napkin. After several more moments of silence, Amelia cleared her throat and spoke up.

“Richard? Are you well?”

His eyes flicked up, and Richard appeared to pull himself from the firm grip of his thoughts. As he looked across the table at her, Richard’s expression was quite empty. She could not see a mirror for her own happiness there, nor could she see his usual scowl when he woke in a sour mood. It was particularly odd.

“Yes.” He adjusted in his seat, his stare moving to her plate and then back up. “I will be…”

The words trailed off, and Amelia raised her brows at him, waiting for Richard to continue. He shook himself slightly, and then the tension in his jaw pulled, his muscles flexing.

“I will be leaving Heartwick and returning to Blackford. I shall make my way there in three days’ time.”

Amelia’s stomach dropped into her feet. Had she heard him correctly? Blinking, Amelia shook her head, leaning over the table toward Richard.

“Pardon?” Amelia spoke through a lump in her throat. “I do not believe I have heard you correctly.”

Richard didn’t move, not even a blink of his eyes. “I will be returning to Blackford in three days’ time.”

Hearing the words a second time did nothing to improve how they sat within her mind. Amelia was struck hard enough by them that she sat back in her chair. The cushion pressed against her spine, holding her upright for she would have careened to the floor were it not for the seat.

She could not breathe; the air she still held was trapped in her lungs, making her chest burn. The world skidded to a halt as she tried to find something in Richard’s expression that gave away the jest. It simply must be. He could not be speaking sincerely, could he?

“You are teasing me, are you not?” Amelia’s brow furrowed as she tried to paint a smile over her face. “I had thought that after last evening?—”

“I do not jest with you, Amelia. It…I will be returning home.”

Blood rushed to her face, heat, and pressure making her swirl though she remained in place. Amelia worried she might be sick, and she crumbled into herself as much as her stays would allow.

“I…”

There were no words, however. Amelia leaned forward onto the table, trying to catch her breath through her nose. He had said “home.” Richard had said the word “home” when speaking of Blackford, acknowledging Heartwick was the very opposite in doing so. This was not his home. She was not.

“I will remove myself from the remaining breakfasts. You should not look to see me interfering with your daily tasks and the accounts have already been checked, which, of course, was the reason for my arrival.”

Before she could protest or even do so much as to look Richard in the eyes again, she heard the sound of the chair moving across the floor. The feet squeaked against the wood, and several steps clicked loudly as her husband left the table.

Amelia could not watch him leave. She could not do anything more than sit cemented to her seat, listening to the sound of his footsteps become quieter and quieter.

“He said…I…”

The tears started then, and they took over the whole of her. Amelia’s chest ached because of how the sobs racked through her, and she could not find her breath. Her head felt light and airy as she struggled against the horrid weeping that consumed her entire body. Amelia did not wish to wail like a babe. She fought to remain as quiet as possible.

Richard had taken every inch of her in his grasp. He’d pulled her from a life of her own design, and she’d allowed herself to fall into his clutches like an incipient child. She felt as though she were a butterfly—captured by a cruel boy who pinned her down and tore the wings from her body.

It had been the gravest of errors to trust in a man who’d already so coldly rejected her on their wedding night. She had allowed herself to hope for a future that offered her both freedom and pleasure. It was laughable. Sitting alone in the dining room, the manor’s mistress and Duchess of Blackford, Amelia was nothing more than a na?ve fool.