19. Chapter 19

Chapter nineteen

James

"She's on to me." Gregory paced my room, filling the space with a nervous energy that was entirely unlike him. "She knows it was all a sham. I'll be dead before dawn."

"Again with the dramatics," I said, dipping my quill into the inkwell again. I had decided to write the duke another letter in hopes that there might have been more information he could give me, something that would convince Amelia to take a risk. I would not give up, not when I was so close to a solution.

So close to perhaps finally having the type of marriage I'd always hoped to have. Being jilted had left me fearful and hesitant of ever putting myself in that situation again.

Until I met Amelia.

No, until I paid attention to her. She'd been there all along, and I had been too infatuated with Sabrina to see her. I was no longer certain I could call what I'd felt for the duchess love. Perhaps I had been in love with the idea of marrying Sabrina, so much so that I'd been blind to her character.

I'd been blind to Amelia, too.

"I am not being dramatic," Gregory rebutted. "She glared at me the entire time we were in town this morning." He paused, his brows furrowing. "Well, nearly the entire time. There was that moment at the haberdasher's when I purchased her the ribbon…"

"You purchased her ribbon? Why? "

"It matched her eyes," he defended. "And I hoped she would stop glaring at me."

"Matched her eyes?" It was official. Gregory had gone mad.

"Do not give me that look." Gregory pointed at me. "I was desperate. It is your fault I was desperate."

I sat down my quill. "Fine, but did it work? To stop the glaring, I mean."

"It did." Gregory crossed the room and slumped onto my bed, lying on his back while his feet remained on the floor. He stared up at the ceiling, his expression twisted with contemplation. "You know, during our ride home, when she didn't appear as though she wanted to strangle me, the duchess was rather pleasant company. Her life hasn't been as easy as you might think. Her father sounds rather demanding. I think she deserves more sympathy than we have allotted her."

"Sympathy? Are you mad?"

Gregory held up his hands defensively. "I am not saying her actions are altogether pardonable. Merely that my ride today has given me better insight. That is all."

"You sound like Amelia." I muttered. "Sabrina can be a rather good actress, but pleasant is not a description I would use, nor do I have any intention of granting her sympathy."

Gregory shook his head. "I cannot blame you, I suppose, but I don't think she was acting. It was almost as if…as if she might have enjoyed spending time with me." He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Ridiculous, is it not? There could not possibly be any truth to that. She is here for you."

He wasn't wrong. Sabrina had come to Fallborn for me, but something in my gut insisted I once again put my observational skills to use. This time, I would focus them on Sabrina—or more specifically, her interaction with Gregory. The details of his outing with her were curious, if nothing else.

I sealed my letter and stood to go pull the bell to have a servant take it when a light tap sounded at my door. Instantly, I froze. I hadn't seen Sabrina all day, and she had stopped knocking on my door a week ago, but still my heart pounded.

Something slid beneath the door, and the patter of retreating footsteps followed.

Another note.

I crossed the room, already grinning when I stooped to pick up the paper with the jagged edge. I opened the door wide enough to peek into the corridor, but my secret deliverer had disappeared. Perhaps next time I would respond more quickly and catch them in the act.

I closed the door and took a seat on my bed, eagerly unfolding the note.

"What's that?"

My fingers stilled. I'd forgotten Gregory was in the room, and I wasn't certain I wished to read in front of him. An unwed lady sending notes to a bachelor was improper, and while I trusted Gregory would keep things to himself, part of me wished to keep Amelia's words about me a secret.

"It is nothing," I said, tucking the paper next to me.

"Not nothing. I saw the way you smiled when you picked it up." His eyes narrowed. "Are you exchanging love notes with Miss Scott?"

"No," I answered honestly. Then again, the note I'd written asking her to meet me in the gardens could have been taken as such with the way I'd ended it. The sentiment was, perhaps, too much to be expressed so soon, but I didn't regret it. My regard for Amelia deepened with each moment I spent with her, and I did not foresee that changing, no matter what her secret entailed.

"If not a love note, then what is it?" Gregory sat down beside me, and I instinctively moved the note to my other side. He chuckled. "I do not believe you. That is a love note. It could not have come from anyone but Miss Scott. Not with the way you've reacted to it."

A deep groan rumbled from my chest. Gregory would not let this go. "Fine. It was written by Amelia, but I am not convinced it is from her."

Gregory's brows knitted together. "That makes no sense."

I sighed. Why was everything so blasted complicated? "My guess is that it is a page from Amelia's diary. She wrote it, but someone has torn it from the book and slipped it beneath my door."

"But why would they do that? And how do you know it is not Miss Scott's way of telling you her feelings?" He paused. "Pardon me, I have assumed that the contents of the note do, in fact, express those sentiments. The way the two of you look at one another led me to be presumptuous. "

"What do you mean the way we look at one another? Does she look at me a certain way?"

Gregory scoffed. "Gads, man. Are you oblivious? I dare say she has always looked at you that way. Even I noticed in London. I just never expected anything to come of it given you were courting the duchess. Now that you are looking at her with the same enamored ridiculousness, though…"

"You mean to say she still looks at me that way?" I asked, ignoring his jab. I needed this reassurance.

"Yes, James," my friend responded flatly. "Do her diary pages not say as much?"

"I have only read one." I held up the new note. "I've no wish to read this one while you are here. But the first did lead me to believe Amelia holds a deep affection for me. Or did. It has been over a year. Her regard could have easily changed."

"It hasn't," said Gregory, standing. "And everyone in this house can see it save for the pair of you."

My stomach sank. "Everyone?" That would include Sabrina.

"Unless they are blind," said Gregory. "My mother is particularly ecstatic at the prospect of her house party—though why she continues to call it such, I cannot understand—being the catalyst for a love match. And—" His brows furrowed. "You appeared worried."

"If Sabrina realizes my affection for Amelia, she might lash out."

"Ah. Well, I've no advice to give you on that front, but marriage to you would save Miss Scott from most ridicule, would it not? A solution, perhaps."

"Perhaps." I couldn't be certain without knowing her blasted secret. If only she would confide in me. If the duke had more information, though, something that would undoubtedly convince Sabrina to hold her tongue, then it wouldn't matter.

"I will leave you to your love note then," said Gregory, backing away with an unrepentant smile.

I waited until he'd gone before unfolding the paper and holding it in front of me .

May 13, 1815

Love does not feel as I expected it would. It has come with an overwhelming heartache I'm not sure I can bear. How am I to watch Sabrina marry the man who has taken my heart? I find it unlikely that my suffering will end with their marriage, for I will be forced into their company so long as Sabrina holds me hostage. The thought of such a bleak future sickens me, and yet I can do nothing to prevent it. Being thus trapped has rekindled my anger to a degree. Why did my mother make such horrid mistakes? Why did she toss away fidelity for a fleeting pleasure?

We are all given agency by our creator's grace, so how is it that mine is continually stripped from me by the decisions of others? Am I to accept the terms of my future, or am I meant to fight, to risk everything for the barest of chances that my actions will not have a ripple effect onto Grace? I cannot, in good conscience, do to my sister as my mother has done to me. I will not steal her future as mine has been stolen due to the selfish actions of another.

"The secret…it does pertain to her mother," I mumbled to the empty room. But what did Amelia mean? Exchanging fidelity for a fleeting pleasure?

"Her mother was unfaithful to her father." The realization struck me. It was not an uncommon occurrence, though certainly more frowned upon for married women than men. Still, I did not see how that would ruin Amelia so greatly that she would allow Sabrina to run her life. Unless, of course, her mother's unfaithfulness had resulted in a child—

My eyes rounded. Amelia was illegitimate, or thought she might be at the very least.

I stood, the note in hand, and paced my room. It all made sense. If Sabrina knew about Amelia's mother's indiscretions, she could hold the information over her. Illegitimacy had ruined countless people. No one was insusceptible to such disgrace.

Disgrace.

The word soured my stomach. Amelia had stated that I would think differently of her if I knew the truth. That I would not wish to associate with her. It was true that many in the ton would not, should the information get out.

I was not one of them .

Whether it was purely my character to not allow such things to bother me or the result of my affections, I could not say. I had never faced a situation of this nature. Regardless, I knew one thing for certain—I would marry Miss Amelia Scott regardless of her parentage.

If she still cared for me. If she would welcome a courtship.

I wanted to believe she did. Our time together haunted my mind as the memory of drink haunted a drunkard. I wanted to be near her, to hold her close. I wanted to spend my evenings discussing novels and poetry with her.

I wanted to feel her lips pressed against mine.

But did she wish for the same? I would not force a woman into marriage, and while I had considered convenience in the past, my heart was once again determined to have something more. I could not let the idea go without knowing for certain what Amelia thought on the matter.

An irritated growl rumbled from my throat. "But if I cannot convince Sabrina into silence, knowing is meaningless. Amelia will not risk the information being exposed. It would threaten Miss Grace's reputation as well."

Did Amelia fear her sister was also illegitimate? Did Miss Grace even know of her mother's improprieties?

My mind buzzed with questions I had no way of getting answers to. Puzzling out one had only created a thousand more. Now that I knew, however, Amelia might consider discussing things with me, and that was a promising start.

Dinner was a torturous affair. Where once I would have enjoyed every opportunity to be in Amelia's company, I was instead plagued with the frustration of not being permitted a private conversation with her. I wanted her to know that thanks to the mysterious notes being slipped beneath my door, I had discovered her secret and she no longer needed to hide anything from me.

She no longer needed to worry that my regard for her would change.

If anything, I felt more protective, more determined to save her from the duchess.

I glanced across the table to where Sabrina engaged Gregory in conversation, and a familiar fire of anger lit in my chest. How could she threaten a person's future so callously and not feel a modicum of regret? She used people—me, Gregory, Amelia—to get what she wanted, no matter the cost. I couldn't stand it, and the fury in me threatened to explode.

A light touch to my arm pulled my attention, and my expression smoothed as I peered down into Amelia's concerned blue eyes.

"Are you well?" she whispered.

"No, I feel as though I might burst."

A touch of a smile graced her lips. "You have not eaten nearly enough for that."

She was not wrong. I had barely nibbled at my food. "I'm afraid my appetite is lost. I have much on my mind."

She nodded, her concern lingering. "You could put your mind toward a distraction. Choosing an animal, perhaps?"

I chuckled, and some of my agitation dissipated. Amelia, I was coming to discover, had that effect on me. She could lighten my mood so easily.

"I will agree to think on it if you will agree to discuss the topic with me again?"

Her eyes flicked to Sabrina, who was too focused on Gregory at present to notice the conversation happening across the table. For the first time that night, I considered Sabrina's smile. And Gregory's. They both appeared surprisingly genuine, which dropped my mind into a new pit of questions.

I would need to warn Gregory to be careful, but for now, I could make use of Sabrina's attention to him. I lowered my voice and kept my gaze straight ahead as I spoke. "If Gregory plays the distraction tomorrow morning, would you be free to visit the library?"

"I cannot continue having clandestine meetings with you," Amelia said so quietly I almost could not hear her. "It is too risky."

Risky, but not undesirable.

"I know, but this is important." I lifted a spoonful of soup to my mouth and fought a grimace. I did not care for pea soup.

"Sometimes it helps if you hold your breath."

I turned toward Amelia. "What do you mean?"

"The soup. You do not care for it. Holding your breath will help a little." She drew in a breath and held it as she lifted her spoon again. Had she noticed my grimace? More importantly, did she dislike peas as well?

Spoon empty, her shoulders moved slightly as she slowly exhaled. My lips twitched. "I will give it a try. I would not wish to offend Mrs. Davis with my obvious expressions of dislike."

"They were not obvious. At least, not tonight. I've known you do not like it since London."

I placed my silverware down and passed her a questioning look. "You've known since London?"

Her eyes rounded, and she shifted in her seat. "I…well, as I said, you are sometimes obvious. Sabrina instructed me to take note of such things on her behalf."

"Was that the only reason you watched me?"

Her gaze met mine briefly, and she swallowed. I was making her uncomfortable, but I couldn't help it. I wanted her to speak of her interest in me aloud. I wanted to know whether it had changed.

Now was not the best time to coax such truths from her, however, and I let the conversation drop, listening instead to the exchange happening between Gregory and Sabrina or offering my opinion on something Miss Grace said to Mrs. Davis.

Amelia remained quiet through the rest of the meal, her lack of sociability matched only by Mr. Apsley, who I caught staring at me with a steely expression more than once. As Amelia's guardian, I needed to have a conversation with him. I had also promised to relay any information I discovered. The man might have some ideas where the duchess was concerned and perhaps confirm my suspicions about Amelia's illegitimacy. Once I knew for certain what we were facing, I could more adequately plan how to maneuver the situation.

Yes, a conversation with Rowe Apsley was where I needed to begin.