13. Chapter 13

Chapter thirteen

Amelia

N ightmares often plagued me. I would find myself in the center of a crowded ballroom, the music having gone silent as everyone stared at me. Whispers would echo in my ears, words like disgraced, ruined, and illegitimate. My heart would pound, and sweat would dampen my brow.

To be under such scrutiny, to have England's most wealthy and influential judge me for crimes not my own, was the worst sort of dream, and yet, it paled in comparison to the very real panic I felt now. The kind that had propelled my heart to slam against my chest and for my lungs to cease, robbing me of breath.

I threw off the bedcovers and slid over the mattress. Despite the dim light outside the window, my feet padded quietly against the cool wooden floor to the bell pull. I needed to dress quickly and rush down to Grace's room.

Or mine, technically, as she had spent the night in the guest room I'd previously occupied. That was the entire problem. I trusted my sister, but even she could not be permitted to read my diary—an incriminating record I had, rather foolishly, hidden beneath my pillow.

A pillow Grace had rested her head on all afternoon and night.

I groaned, slipping out of my dressing gown. How could I have been so absent-minded? Why had I not thought to grab the diary while tending to Grace? She might have questioned me about it, but at least the book would have been in my possession, safe from any prying eyes. I couldn't stand the thought of Grace reading its contents .

I drew in a breath. Perhaps Grace had been in too much pain to notice something beneath her pillow. Perhaps I would find it was still tucked away. If not…well, then I would have to prepare myself to explain everything to her. She would undoubtedly have questions about me, about our mother, and most likely about herself.

At least for the latter I could provide some solace.

Once my lady's maid had helped me dress, I shuffled out of Grace's bedchamber and two door's down to my own. I didn't bother to knock, hoping that I could slip inside before Grace had even awoken to retrieve the diary.

I found, instead, another nightmare.

Sabrina sat on the edge of my sister's bed, a forced smile plastered to her face as she offered her deepest condolences for Grace's injury. My stomach sank to my feet. Having Sabrina so near my diary was utterly terrifying. She knew my secret, but she would not take kindly to my descriptions of her.

Nor would she appreciate the feelings I had disclosed about Lord Emerson.

I had long suspected she knew of my affections for the earl, but she had found them amusing then, yet another thing she could use to torment me. Things were different now. She did not hold Lord Emerson in her palm, which meant she might see anyone as a threat, including Grace.

Including me, despite how ridiculous the idea was.

I cleared my throat, and both Grace and Sabrina looked at me. I donned my own faux smile as I crossed the room to them. "Good morning."

"Yes, such a lovely morning," said Sabrina. "I thought I might check on Grace and then see if I could not convince Mrs. Davis to continue our picnic." She faced my sister again. "Of course, Grace will need to remain here. A shame, but we will do our best to have a wonderful time without you. Perhaps Mr. Apsley will wish to remain as well, given his injury. He can keep you company. Or your sister, even. She does worry after you."

My jaw clenched. If neither Grace or I attended this picnic, that would leave Sabrina the sole female recipient of Lord Emerson's attention. Not that he would offer it willingly, but he was far too much the gentleman to ignore her completely .

"I am certain my guardian will prefer to keep an eye on me," Grace responded with a hint of indignation. "As for Amelia, I think she would prefer to attend the picnic."

Sabrina swatted the air with her gloved hand. "Goodness no, she will be a mess of concern the entire time. She is much better off here with you."

My sister's eyes narrowed. "I intend to read all day. There will be nothing for her to fret over, but perhaps we ought to ask Amelia what she wishes to do."

There was an edge to Grace's tone I had never heard before. Something more than mere irritation.

"Amelia?" Sabrina shifted to face me and lifted a brow. "What would you like to do? Stay here?"

"Or go to the picnic," Grace added, her scowl deepening.

"I…" I knew what Sabrina expected me to say. Expected me to do. But I could not leave Lord Emerson to face her alone. An ally would not abandon her friend, would she? "I believe I will go to the picnic if you are sure you have no need of me, Grace?"

A triumphant grin pulled at my sister's lips. "None."

Sabrina's icy glare could have impaled me, so full of fury I reconsidered my answer. Lord Emerson was my friend, yes, but was helping him worth the risk? Poking Sabrina's ire could have lasting consequences.

My gaze wandered to Grace. Everything I had done on Sabrina's behalf had been to protect my sister. If she knew how my decision could threaten her future, she would not be grinning. No, she would likely look at me the way the rest of the ton would once my secret was revealed.

Like the way the crowd in my imagined ballroom did.

I placed two fingers against my temple. "On second thought, I feel as though I may be developing a megrim. Perhaps staying out of the sun is for the best."

Sabrina's glower melted like cubes of sugar in hot tea, gone in a moment with no trace it had ever existed. "Very wise, Amelia." She stood and cheerfully glided to the door, her soft pink skirts swishing with each step. "I shall see you both later tonight."

Sabrina pulled the door closed behind her, but I could imagine her satisfied smirk. It twisted my insides, but so long as the duchess was happy, my sister and I were safe. Lord Emerson would just have to fend her off on his own today.

"Why did you do that?"

I turned toward Grace and found her glaring at me. "What do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean. Why did you give in to that…that…woman!" Grace threw her hands in the air to demonstrate her aggravation. My sister was no simpleton. She knew I had feigned the notion of a megrim to appease Sabrina, but how could I explain my reasoning?

I couldn't. Not without revealing the truth, and while I trusted my sister would keep my confidence, I didn't relish how it would undoubtedly change things between us. How could she see me in the same light when I couldn't even see myself the same way I once had? No, I would not risk damaging our relationship.

I sat down on the edge of Grace's bed— my bed.

The reminder sent a chill through me. I'd nearly forgotten the reason I'd come in the first place. I had to retrieve the diary, but it would require strategy with Grace already in a fowl mood.

"Sometimes," I began quietly, "it is easier to give Sabrina what she wants than to fight her. And besides, I have my doubts Mrs. Davis will even agree to attempting the picnic again so soon. Not with two of her guests currently abed with injuries. She is far too good a hostess for that. Sabrina's quest is likely in vain."

"That isn't the point. Do you always give in to the duchess?" Grace scoffed, shaking her head. "Do not answer that. I know you do. I have seen it enough times since we came to Fallborn. To think I had once believed the two of you friends."

For so long, I had wanted someone to know the truth about my and Sabrina's relationship, but now that Grace approached the precipice, fear vibrated through me, deep and haunting like a melody of melancholy. Grace had always been fiercely loyal to me, just as I was to her. That loyalty might encourage her to do something rash.

"We are friends," I said, barely keeping my expression from pinching in distaste. "Sabrina is…complex. I suppose I understand her in ways others might not."

That wasn't a lie. Not entirely, at least .

Sabrina had always kept me close—nearby in the event she needed me to do her bidding—but such proximity came at a price to her. I had learned things about the woman most did not know, such as the nature of her relationship with her father. The man was tyrannical in his expectations, a businessman who's sole concern was elevating both his wealth and position in society. Sabrina had been a key to accomplishing that, and he had made it clear that she was more bargaining chip than daughter in his eyes.

Despite what she had done to me, and continued to do, my heart squeezed with sympathy. I had grown up in a home with parents who both loved each other and doted on their children. Grace and I had never known a day where we were not cared for and loved. That was something, I suspected, Sabrina had never experienced, and while that did not justify her treatment of people, it did make my burdens easier to bear.

If only slightly.

I shook myself of the thoughts, focusing again on my sister. "Tell me, how are you feeling this morning?"

"Do not change the subject." Grace folded her arms, pinning me with a look. She would not let this go, and I refused to tell her anything more.

"We are at an impasse then," I said. "I will say no more on the subject. Your opinion of the duchess has changed so drastically. Days ago you were eager to dine with her. What is it you have seen to cause such a shift in your impression of her?"

"I told you. I've been watching how she treats you, and it's worse now that I…" She pinched her lips closed.

"Now that you what?"

"Never mind. You are avoiding my questions. I cannot understand why you would be friends with her. She is conniving at best. At worst—"

"Grace." I grabbed her arm, my voice pleading. "Let it go. Please. You do not understand."

Grace pulled away. "I might if you talked to me. I thought we told each other everything."

A pang of guilt stabbed at my chest. I had wanted to tell her everything the moment our father divulged our family's greatest secret, but Papa had encouraged me to keep the information to myself. There were few people alive who knew the truth—Mama and me.

And now Sabrina.

I took my sister's hand, and while she didn't look at me, she didn't pull away again either. "I promise that someday I will explain it all to you, but now is not the right time. Can you trust me to keep my promise? Trust that this is for the best?"

Grace sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "I do trust you, Amelia." She met my gaze, her dark eyes conveying how earnest the statement was. "I will always trust and love you. No matter what."

I tried to smile, though the expression likely fell short. I wanted to believe that nothing would ever change between us, but doubt had a way of poking at our vulnerabilities, no matter how small they were, until they grew into inescapable foreboding. The day Grace learned the truth would be the day I lost my closest friend.

"Thank you," I said. "Now, you haven't answered my question. How are you feeling today?"

Grace's lips tugged to one side, as though she were debating how honest to be with me. "I am well. Well enough to attend a picnic, even."

I laughed, releasing her hand to lean forward and place a kiss on her forehead. "You know I would never buy such blatant falsities. You cannot lie to me. I know you too well."

"Sisters," Grace mumbled. "Fine, my leg aches, though it is much less severe than yesterday."

"Good. You will be back on your feet in no time." I paused, tapping my fingers against her bed covers. "Grace, I had been reading a book and placed it under my pillow for easy access at night. Do you mind if I grab it to take to your room?"

Grace turned, and my heart sped as she lifted the pillow. The diary was unmarked, and that might seem suspicious to her. But when she removed the pillow, there was nothing beneath, making my heart race for an entirely different reason.

"It's gone," I said, my brows furrowing. "You have not seen it?"

"You are certain you left it here?" asked Grace.

"Yes." The word came out breathy as I tried, in vain, to hide my panic. If Grace had not found my diary then who had?

"Perhaps our maid saw it when she helped me change," offered Grace. "I am certain it could not have gone far. The only people who have been near the bed are you, the maid, the doctor, and…" Her voice trailed off .

"Sabrina," I whispered.

No. No, she could not have…could she?

My stomach roiled, and I swallowed several times to keep from casting up whatever remained from dinner the night before.

"She was here when I awakened," said Grace. "Sitting on my bed. Was it a large book? She was not holding anything when she left."

"No, it is quite small. She could have taken it back to her room before you woke, I suppose. But perhaps you are right, and one of the maids has simply moved it." I didn't believe my own words but stood and began searching the room anyway. Fortune did not favor me enough for that diary to have ended up at the writing desk or tucked away in my trunks with my other books.

The longer I searched, the more frantic I felt. At the very least, that diary provided Sabrina with another form of proof. At worst, it held all of my secrets; not just the one surrounding my parentage.

"Amelia, what is going on? You look terrified."

I forced a laugh. "Do I? Of course I am not terrified. It is only a book."

With the power to ruin me. Why had I been so foolish as to leave it under my pillow? Surely there was a loose floorboard or empty drawer that would have served as a better hiding place. The fireplace would have been the best location.

Fool. Fool. Fool. It was little wonder Sabrina believed me pheasant-brained.

Grace did not appear convinced by my declaration, her dark brows drawn close in concern. I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat and blinked to lessen the sting in my eyes. "I am simply distraught about finishing the story. I will speak with our maid, and all will be well."

Though everything inside me insisted that was the furthest thing from the truth.