2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

March 29, 1815

His eyes remind me of crystalline pools. They glimmer whenever he laughs, as though they bask in sunlight. Perhaps it is good that I am nearly invisible to him, that his heart belongs to another, for if I were ever the recipient of his attention and peered too deeply into those eyes, I would surely drown and be forever lost.

Amelia

O ne might consider escaping a stuffy carriage a blessing, but knowing what awaited me over the next month during my stay at Fallborn made the idea of climbing back inside and beginning the three day journey home vastly appealing.

Standing next to me on the carriageway, Rowe adjusted his coat and swept strands of his auburn hair from his face. He stared up at the building with pinched brows, perhaps wondering whether the estate boasted a fully stocked library, and if so, how he might disappear into a quiet corner there after dinner without notice. My cousin was not the most social creature, more often than not found with his nose between the pages of a book. He was reserved and, to my great disappointment, the most underbearing of guardians .

A disappointment because he had readily agreed to come to Fallborn at the bequest of the Duchess of Rochester.

It was not his fault, though, that he remained unaware of the predicament that had haunted me since my debut into society two years previous. No one knew my secret.

No one, that is, but the duchess, and if I wished to keep it that way, I would embrace the obedience required of me.

"It is quite lovely," said Grace, my younger sister, as she admired the building from my other side. "Do you know anyone else who will be in attendance?"

My stomach clenched. "No. The duchess arranged for us to be invited. I have met our host, Mr. Davis, of course, but that was some time ago. He may not even remember me."

Grace shook her head, sending her dark brown curls bouncing against her face. In some ways, I envied my sister. Her hair was the exact same shade Father's had been, as were her caramel eyes. I, on the other hand, had been gifted locks of dead, yellow grass and eyes a cold blue that resembled a merciless sea.

"How could he possibly forget you?" asked Grace.

Easily, as I preferred not to be the center of attention. Even if I had wanted to make myself well known among the ton , I was nearly always in the shadow of Sabrina Perry—or the Duchess of Rochester, as she was now known.

"How fortunate that you are friends with the duchess," said Grace, ignoring my lack of response. "I never imagined I would begin my debut dining with someone like her."

Someone like her? That was not as fortunate as my sister believed. Sabrina was many things. Friendly was not one of them. At least not to me, a pawn she could control. I doubted she would treat Grace any differently.

I forced a smile. Rowe and Grace both believed Sabrina and I to be the best of friends, and I could not correct them on the matter. The assumption was fair given how much time I'd spent with the woman, both of us having shared our first Season.

Grace lifted on her toes but quickly settled flat on her feet again with a wince. Sometimes, her excitement got the better of her weak leg. "Look! Here she comes now. "

A carriage rumbled down the drive, its golden coat of arms glistening in the dimming sunlight. I caught myself holding my breath. Sabrina had requested my presence for a purpose, and those purposes were never pleasant. I'd grown accustomed to living without her constant orders these past months. Was I ready to plunge back into that pit of fear and uncertainty?

No, I was not plunging. One could not plunge when they were already well and truly lost to the darkness. I had been trapped in this pit for years, long enough to wonder if I would ever get out. Even if I found the courage to face the ramifications of my secret, I could not—would not—allow Grace to suffer for it, too. Once Grace had married and her reputation stood a better chance of surviving, things would be different; until then, I wouldn't risk the consequences.

Perhaps this house party would present an opportunity for her to fall in love. Perhaps, with diligent effort from me, she would find her match without needing to go to London.

The carriage pulled to a stop. The steps were let down, and a footman opened the door. Sabrina held his hand, descending with a regalness befitting her station. She wore a gown of deep lavender, apparently having put off her mourning colors right on schedule, and her dark hair was adorned with beads and flowers. She appeared ready for a ball.

Which was a ridiculous way to travel such a distance, and I wondered if she had come meaning to impress straight away. And who she wished to impress.

"Ah, my dear Amelia." Sabrina glided forward, her arms outstretched. My stomach twisted, and I donned a smile that required every bit of effort I possessed. We embraced, the first of many faux exchanges I would experience over the next four weeks, all a show to hide the true reason for our relationship.

Sabrina released me and shifted her attention to Rowe, dipping a curtsy. "Mr. Apsley, it is a pleasure to see you. I must thank you for being so willing to accompany Amelia and"—she turned toward Grace, and my stomach tightened—"Miss Grace."

"I was happy to oblige," said Rowe, all politeness.

What I wouldn't have given for him to be less obliging in this instance.

"Thank you for requesting my inclusion from Mr. Davis," said Grace. "I hope it was no inconvenience for him. "

Sabrina smiled, but her eyes wandered over my sister. Assessing. Snake-like.

A protective instinct swelled within me. I had safeguarded Grace for two years. All I needed to do was protect her a little longer, just until she made a match of her own. Then, Sabrina's hold on me would no longer matter.

"I am certain it was no trouble at all," said Sabrina with false kindness no one else seemed to recognize. "This will be wonderful practice for you. Shall we go inside?"

Everything within me protested. I could demand my family return to the carriage. I could refuse to stay. But then, Sabrina would ensure my secret was known throughout the whole of England within a fortnight. She would ruin me without remorse. Her power as the daughter of a wealthy landowner had been substantial, but now that she was a duchess?

I couldn't fathom the damage she could do, even with her widowed status.

Sabrina interlocked her arm with mine and tugged me forward. "I have missed you dearly. I do hope you plan to return to London soon?"

"Next Season," I said, willing my muscles not to rip my arm away from her out of repulsion. I had an act to perform. A four-week long act.

How utterly miserable.

"Next Season?" Sabrina reared back, and her dark eyes bore into me. "That will not do. I need you there. After the house party, we must go to London. You may travel with me if Mr. Apsley and your sister would prefer to remain in the country."

Her words were not a suggestion or a request. They were not the welcoming alternative offered by a friend. When Sabrina spoke to me, it was always with expectation of obedience, and I could do little more than nod in subdued acceptance.

Four-week act? No, I would not escape so soon. Not until Grace had married.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone had heard our exchange, pleading for an unlikely rebuttal from my guardian, but Rowe was focused on guiding my sister to the house, her hand wrapped around his arm as she leaned heavily on him for support. The carriage ride had not done her weak leg any favors .

The butler greeted us as we entered the house, and Sabrina released my arm as her attention shifted to him, orders spilling from her lips as if the estate belonged to her. I took in the decor in the foyer. It was draped in outdated color schemes and faded paintings, but there was a certain comfort about it all, as most well-worn things had a tendency to offer, even when they weren't familiar.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the open room, and I pulled my gaze away from a painting of the countryside to properly greet our host. A soft gasp escaped me when I realized that not only had Mr. Davis joined us but also Lord Emerson.

Lord Emerson. The man whose name filled pages of my diary.

My heart danced with the recognition of dormant feelings I'd hidden away. How quickly they returned, proof enough of how deeply-rooted they were.

The earl had strictly been the most handsome man of my acquaintance since the first time I met him. His sandy blond hair perfectly complemented his light blue eyes, matched by the darker shade of his navy waistcoat, fitted to properly display his broad shoulders. The sight of him made my heart flutter, a reaction I wished I'd managed to leave behind in London. Perhaps I would not have minded the increased pounding were he not so far beyond my reach, further than perhaps I even dared to dream. Especially with him scowling at me so fiercely.

Well, scowling at Sabrina and me. Regardless, I could not be terribly surprised by it.

"Mr. Davis." Sabrina dipped a quick curtsy and redirected her attention. "And James, how good it is to see you." Her lashes fluttered, and she extended her hand toward the man, her chin lifted with expectation.

The way my stomach swirled, it was a miracle I did not become sick. Sabrina could not possibly expect the man to put his lips on her hand after what she'd done to him. But then, Sabrina lived with a high sense of entitlement.

Lord Emerson's gaze dropped to her hand, and his jaw clenched. He made no move to so much as bow. A heavy tension filled the room, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Grace and Rowe exchange worried looks .

"Mr. Davis. Lord Emerson." I curtsied before reaching behind me to grab Grace and tug her forward. Someone needed to do something to break the silence. "Might I present to you my sister, Miss Grace Scott."

"A pleasure," said Mr. Davis, a genuine smile flitting across his lips.

Lord Emerson seemed to have not heard me, his glare at Sabrina holding steady.

Oh, dear. Distracting him with an introduction had not worked at all.

Mr. Davis cleared his throat. "Well, now that we're all here, might I suggest—"

"All?" Lord Emerson's gaze snapped to our host.

"Yes." Mr. Davis swallowed so loudly I heard the gulp. "I'm afraid no one else could make it."

"No one could make it or no one was invited?" spat Lord Emerson, his frustration mounting. "Never mind. Don't bother to answer because I am not able to make it either."

He stormed past us to the door and yanked it open with so much force, the butler had to stop it from hitting the interior wall. Sabrina placed one hand on her hip and fired a lethal glare at Mr. Davis. I wasn't sure what I'd expected in coming to Fallborn, but seeing Lord Emerson had not been it. Sabrina's lack of surprise, on the other hand, hinted at why we were here.

Had she and Mr. Davis orchestrated this? Something told me they had, which meant Sabrina, who now found herself husband-free, was once again on the hunt.

Mr. Davis swept his hand over his forehead, removing the sweat forming there. "I will speak with him. In the meantime, my housekeeper, Mrs. Henley, will show all of you to your rooms."

"That will do," said Sabrina. "And Mr. Davis?"

Mr. Davis stopped on his way to the door and turned to face her. The poor man looked utterly petrified.

Sabrina cocked a brow. "Do bring him back, for your own sake."

Interesting. Working together had not been the proper phrasing. That had sounded too much like a threat, and I was certainly familiar with how devastating Sabrina's threats could be. She knew something about Mr. Davis, something he did not wish revealed to the world, and she had used her knowledge to obtain what she wanted .

Mr. Davis nodded and then disappeared out the door. I knew him to be close friends with the earl, but I had my doubts that he would find success in his endeavor to convince the man to stay. Sabrina, in her quest for wealth and title, had left the earl broken.

I should know. I had been the one forced to deliver the blow.

Mrs. Henley was a gangly woman with gray hair and soft eyes. I liked her immediately, for her gentle smile warmed me from the inside out, something much needed after the cool exchange in the foyer. The housekeeper guided us upstairs toward the guest wing to the sound of Sabrina barking more orders than a ship's captain. By the time we reached our rooms, my head pounded, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and sleep.

With dinner soon to be served, that was not an option, however. I would not insult Mr. Davis or his mother by not being present. Today was looking to be quite trying already, and I had no desire to add to it.

A sharp gasp behind me pulled my attention away from where Mrs. Henley was showing Sabrina her room. Grace clung to Rowe's arm, her expression pinched with pain.

"It is bothering you terribly." I waited for them to reach me and slid Grace's free arm around my shoulder to support more of her weight. "We should have taken an extra day of travel to give you time to recover each night."

"I would not have wished to be late," said Grace. "Now that we are here, I will be fine in a few days."

I hoped she was right. While I didn't like the idea of Grace spending time with Sabrina, having my sister with me was a balm to my troubled heart. The two of us had always been close, and I wanted nothing more than for her to find happiness .

Very little happiness, I suspected, would be found at Fallborn in the coming weeks, but it would give Grace the opportunity to experience a house party—if we could truly call it such—before attending her first Season.

Assuming, that is, we stayed for the party. Given Lord Emerson's departure and his presence being the likely reason for the party in the first place, there was a chance I would be on my way to London by tomorrow. The prospect soured my stomach.

As we passed Sabrina to follow Mrs. Henley, Sabrina touched my arm. I released Grace and remained behind as she hobbled forward with Rowe. Once they had managed several yards, Sabrina leaned in close to whisper, "Come see me once you've been shown your room."

She gave me no time to answer, knowing that I would acquiesce, and slipped inside her room, closing the door. I blew out a quiet sigh and focused my attention on Grace's hitched steps. She needed rest.

"You will take this room, Miss Grace." The housekeeper gestured us through first, and Rowe and I escorted Grace to the bed.

She plopped down with a scowl, no doubt frustrated with feeling like an invalid. Grace had suffered from an infection in her youth that left her right leg weak and prone to pain. Father had asked many doctors to look at it over the years, but none of them could offer any advice beyond supplementing with laudanum when the pain was at its worst.

Grace shifted on the bed, wincing with each movement.

"Shall I call for a physician?" asked Rowe, his brows tight with concern as he stared down at my sister.

"No, I will be fine. Honestly, the two of you must stop worrying over me. I have dealt with this nearly my entire life. I am nothing if not accustomed to it."

"Accustomed does not make it hurt any less," I said.

"Perhaps not, but if I asked for a physician every time it hurt, I am afraid we would need one permanently employed in the house." She crossed her arms when Rowe seemed to consider the idea and added, "Which we don't need."

Her assurances did nothing to ease my worries, nor did they Rowe's, if his expression were any indication. We both knew Grace spent a great deal of time in discomfort, but it was easy to forget when she so rarely complained. She was determined not to let the injury hinder her life or happiness.

"I think I will rest here with a book until dinner." Grace paused. "Amelia, did you happen to bring—"

"Of course I brought a few books. I'm sure Rowe brought some as well." The three of us shared this commonality, a love for reading.

Grace's nose wrinkled. "Yes, but he's been reading about estate management. I cannot suffer that sort of torture. You are bound to have something more romantic than text on sheep herding."

I laughed, and although Rowe grunted, his lips twitched.

"I will bring you one," I said. "Rowe and I will leave you for a moment. Mrs. Henley is waiting."

The two of us left Grace to herself. Mrs. Henley showed Rowe to his room first, then me. I found my trunks situated near the end of the bed, Grace and my shared lady's maid, Anna, unpacking my wardrobe. I gave her a smile and stole the first book I saw from a trunk before rushing back into the corridor. Sabrina did not like to be kept waiting.

After leaving Emma with Grace, I walked to Sabrina's room with heavy steps. The harsh beat of my heart matched the tap of my knuckles against her door, and I entered to the muffled sound of her permission.

Sabrina sat at her vanity, tilting her head from side to side. Inspecting. Considering. As if ensuring her dress had not wrinkled or a single strand of hair had not fallen out of place. The woman was perfection in terms of what the ton considered fashionable, in both her attire and appearance. Unlike me, who was possessed of an overly curvy figure and a face full of freckles despite how careful I was to keep it protected from the sun.

Sabrina's gaze met mine in the mirror, and she turned to face me. "That will be all. You may finish unpacking later."

It took me a moment to realize she had addressed her lady's maid. Shame, really. I would not have minded returning later. Or never.

Once the maid had gone, shutting the door behind her, Sabrina pulled a piece of foolscap from her dress pocket and waved it before me. "I must prepare for dinner, so I will make this short. You will do as I ask while we are here at Fallborn. I hope I needn't remind you of the information I have graciously kept secret these past two years."

"No," I whispered. She did not need to remind me of the threat that accompanied her gracious secret-keeping either. Were it merely her word, perhaps I could have survived the rumors, but Sabrina held tangible evidence, and that was not so easily dismissed. I still had not determined how she had come to be in possession of it. Even I had been unaware of the information until just before Father became ill, when, from his sickbed, he divulged the news that would change my life forever.

And that change was not simply because of Sabrina.

The secret had altered the way I viewed the world, my family, and most especially myself. Where once I'd felt confident in my future, it now seemed bleak and uncertain. That uncertainty had bled further into my soul the moment Sabrina confessed she knew the one thing that could ruin me completely.

"I am glad you remember," said Sabrina, tucking the paper away again. "It would not do for me to remind you constantly."

As if she did not take pleasure in it.

Unfortunately, Sabrina's marriage to the Duke of Rochester had not freed me from her grasp. My only reprieve had come when Mama, Grace, and I fled London after Papa's death. We'd sought solitude at our country estate in Newbury and remained there the last eighteen months. Despite our mourning period having ended, I'd made the decision to wait another Season before returning to London, at the cost of prolonging Grace's debut.

Rowe had believed me in need of more time to grieve Papa's passing, and being the kind man that he was, had not pushed the matter. While there was an element of truth to his assumption, I hadn't wished to see Sabrina if I could avoid it. Na?ve as I was, I'd thought if I stayed away long enough, she would forget me.

How wrong I had been. Foolishly and painfully wrong.

"I will need your help if I am to marry Lord Emerson," Sabrina continued. "He harbors some resentment, it would seem, but a man who has fallen once can surely be persuaded to fall again."

Some resentment? I bit down on my tongue so hard it hurt, tempering my irritation before I spoke. "Why the earl? You have the title and wealth of a duchess. If you do not love him, why pursue Lord Emerson a second time?"

Indeed, why remarry at all?

"I wouldn't expect someone of your background to understand. A title alone will not provide the comforts I am accustomed to. "

I ignored her stab at my pride. Sabrina did not care that I'd been raised as a gentleman's daughter. It also did not escape my notice that she had not mentioned the wealth. Everyone knew the duke to have been a man of great income. Why, then, would Sabrina not have all she desired? Certainly, she had been raised in great comfort and expected that for her future. Her father had instilled such expectations in her, often pressuring her toward perfection and pursuits that would further the family's social standing. Still, I could find no sense in Sabrina's motives. Marrying an earl would be beneath her at this point and do nothing to further her climb up the social ladder.

But I knew better than to ask those questions. Sabrina collected secrets but would never divulge her own. To do so would be to express vulnerability, and a woman like the duchess was fortress and stone.